Another irony is that Spring arrives when we are least physically fit. (I’m sure there’s a study someplace that notes horsepeople peak in terms of fitness just before Halloween, and go downhill after that.) We hit the bottom of the fitness cycle just about the time that our horses are threatening to founder on lush, green grass. Which means, of course, that instead of meeting us at the gate as they did in February, our horses are now grazing at the far end of the field. We have to walk way out there, pry their heads off the grass, then lead them to the gate.

But it isn’t the extra walking that bothers us. The problem is, of course, that we’re not quite as secure in the saddle in April as we were in October. That wouldn’t be such a big deal, if our horses weren’t also onion-powered, snorting at imaginary things on the ground and scaring us half to death. Fortunately, the pleasure we get from riding outweighs the inertia of being fitness-challenged, and we move beyond our apprehensions.

And come mid-summer, our pasture onions will have died out, and we’ll be at the Farmers’ Market, buying onions from the lady who bought the bulbs and the manure. Go figure.