My through-the-glass menagerie

I call all of them “my horses.” They’re the horses I see through our windows. They are in the care of my neighbors, their owners, and I have never been any closer to them than I am from my own home. I have never owned a horse, and have no desire ever to own a horse; nevertheless, I enjoy looking out on my neighbors’ horses. They bring beauty to my landscape and they cheer and encourage my spirit, just the thought that I live among people who value the beauty of having horses grazing on their land. I’m not at all sure what else they do with their horses, but I do notice them going out with horse trailers from time to time, presumably to go riding in the mountains. Some people ride their horses on the local roads, too.

Summer at last is waking with a 67° yawn. The temperature is right at the edge of my comfort zone for being outdoors without bundling in layers. I unfold more fully at about 85°, but the sunshine and the near-70° day are a great start. The grass is green, and the hills are bronze in the afternoon light, brown turning to green. For some reason people here enjoy forsythia bushes with their yellow flowers — I’ve never been awfully partial to them. But the yellow is nice with the rest of the landscape, just a little urban.

I decided to take pictures of my horses, but I was not able to capture images of all the horses I see from my windows. Some of my horses are across the street, and my vintage 2006, 5.0 megapixel, 34mm-102mm camera somehow does not see what I see, especially when the horses depart their front pasture for the back. When I consider the option of joining Costco in order to buy a more adept camera, I decide that I should aspire to be more like Cartier-Bresson, and be brilliant within my camera’s limitations. But he had a Leica….

Horses make me think of grace. They have been in relationship with man for work, for war, and for recreation. Probably few people who have horses think of the offstage relationships their horses have with their neighbors, who, observing someone else’s horses from their windows and their own property, never knowing anything at all about the lives of those who care for the horses, simply enjoy their beauty.

God did not have to make anything beautiful. The fact that anything is enjoyed for its beauty, whether a horse or a galaxy, is a completely gratuitous blessing that glorifies its creator. That’s what grace is: completely gratuitous and purposely glorious.


1 Comment

Filed under People, Places, & Things, Photo Galleries

One response to “My through-the-glass menagerie

  1. mo

    This post brought me right to your window loooking out at “your” horses. A beautiful scene I must say. You write so beuatifully, I so enjoy reading your stories.


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