Monday, June 29, 2009

Mulberry Fields

bBelow Mulberry Fields, available

Poised to fly after his hounds, alert to hound voices, he paused asking if the Field was far behind. They were hungry, I replied. For a moment he looked crestfallen but the hounds were running and I swear I heard: Food? Let them eat common .... We’ll dine with the gods! Or some such thing, I’m sure what he said was as flowery in its own way. He galloped off, following the cry.

Now our hounds ran an amazing fox, racing along the dark wooded shoreline. Crossing broad corn-stubble fields where cannonballs once flew, the fox took flight before the hounds. Slipping through culverts and ditches slowed the hounds some but never did they lose the line. Past Jubilee’s stark grapevines we rode, over muddy creeks and steep little ravines. A run over two hours that took us into territory not covered in years.

Fall cubbing

Sunset on Fall Fields, available

....exclamations of Whoa Dammit and similar endearments as the Huntsman’s horse crashed out from the corn up onto the roadway, its sides heaving. It is not easy to gallop pell-mell through a stand of ripened corn. The Huntsman was barely hanging on, covered in chaff, corn stalks sticking out from under his legs. Dammit, (this isn’t a common horse name near you?) evidently didn’t like cows. We both burst out laughing....