To Every Thing There Is A Season
Ramblings: Fallow is fine if one’s harvest season has been busy. When I was in college, I loved to visit my grandmother. I’d lounge about. I’d read books. We’d play cards. I’d forget about papers, finals, the fact that I didn’t have a boyfriend, or whatever was troubling my sophomoric self. When my life got quieter, the same visits and the same activities drove me insane with boredom. When life is restful, my ideal vacation is to be dropped in the heart of a major city and not sleep for three days. Therefore, spending the winter letting a horse be a horse, catching up on riding books, and working out at the gym is wonderful. Unless that’s what you did all summer.
Of course when I say I want to be busy, I mean the happy, challenging busy of driving home tiredly peering through the fistful of blue ribbons fluttering from the truck’s sun visor, or catching a red eye flight to interview the returning Olympic team, or blearily trying to remember all the marvelous answers to the problems of the universe you and your friends came up with at 3 am last night. Joyful, satisfying, with just enough physical discomfort to make you appreciate a hot shower and a good dinner at the end of the day.
Not the bad busy that means an impromptu visit to the boss’s office, random grazing in a hospital cafeteria, or rising flood waters. No one wants those.
What is your ideal vacation, with or without horses?