Early May morning. It´s quiet, all you hear is birds singing. You walk through the stable yard, gravel snarls under your feet. The sun hasn´t risen yet, but the skyline is already pale pink.
Approaching the stable you hear a friendly neigh. Your horse has recognized your steps and knows what is to come.
A heavy stable door squeaks when you open it. You sense the familiar scents of the stable: hay, manure, leather - and horses. You think that nothing smells as good as a horse.
You go to greet your horse, give him a little morning hay. But still he must remain in the stall. You head to the tack room first. Your friend is waiting with a basket of a thermos flask full of hot coffee and stuffed breakfast rolls. You drink coffee together, you enjoy the silence of the stable. On the walls saddles and bridles shine cleaned, bits washed and shiny, and you realize that coffee doesn´t taste so good anywhere else.
Once you have finished your little breakfast, you take the saddles on your arms, bridles to the other hand, and go back to the horses. They are waiting for you vigilantly, ears chortling, eager but calm.
You brush the horse's sides and back quickly and brush the face a little just for being close. The saddle feels light to get up on the horse’s back. Bridle slips like itself on the head. When the bits snap into place, you hear that familiar sound as metal chinks on the teeth. The horse chews a few times and the bits settle in comfortably. You are ready.
The hooves clop on the stable floor as you two lead the horses out. Now you get in the saddle and a wonderful, peaceful trek through the dewy meadows and spring-awakening forest begins.
"Moments like this," you think, "I want to cherise in my treasure box of memories."
Worth your memories,