Evening at the barn.  Dark at 5pm.  By the time I get Angel tacked up, I’m the only human there.

It is so quiet.  The only sounds are barn sounds: horses munching on hay, the occasional rattle of a bucket, and the soft swoosh swoosh swoosh of my nylon jacket as we trot around the arena.  Angel’s hooves don’t even make a sound in the deep sand.  We are companionable, old friends gently moving back into a comfortable routine.

After riding, I de-tack and give Angel a good grooming, put him in his stall, put his blanket on and give him his treats.  I bid all the horses goodbye, with my usual, “Good night, boys and girls.”  I make sure all the doors are shut and all the lights are off.

The parking lot has a spectacular view of the Bay Area lights, from San Francisco to the South Bay.  It is beautiful and quiet, except for those birds that seem to cry out only after dark.  I don’t know what kind of birds they are, but I love to hear them.  Time to go home.

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