Ardis Journal

Flying, that is what it feels like to ride a horse.  On our farm growing up I had Blackie.  She was the most beautiful horse.  It felt as though we were the closest of friends.  She could not speak my language, but her eyes communicated so many things to me. 

She would listen to me hour after hour as we would ride through the lush springtime in Tennessee.  Her coat was black silk.  I loved to talk to her as I brushed her beautiful coat.  She was not large, but not small.  She was just right for me.

I guess, in the end, she was too small.  Our large stallion mated with her.  When she gave birth, the foal was too large.  They both died.  It was the saddest day of my life at the age of thirteen.  It was only a few more years until my parents both died, and then THAT was the saddest day of my life.

I fear that the dismal gray weather is having an effect on my spirits.  I'm going to go ride Patches, Blake's mare.  She's rather old, but I wish to ride her more for connection than for speed.  She's a dear old lady.  I think Blake said that she's about fifteen.  She still can gallop, just not for very long periods of time.  I love to brush her, and talk to her like I used to with Blackie. 

It's fascinating to me how these noble creatures can communicate so effectively with their eyes.  Patches smiles brightly when I greet her.  Probably half of that smile is for me, and the other part for the apples and carrots I bring to her. 

Blackie saved my life.  I fell down and broke my leg.  Blackie was in a pasture close to where I had fallen.  She jumped over the pasture fence and found my parents in the garden.  Papa said that Blackie kept nuzzling them until she had their attention.  Then she led the way to me.  The doctor said that if I had been outside much longer I would have died from the shock, and the weather.  It had been very cold on that day.

Well this has been a rather sad entry.  I think I'll go for a walk outside.  Some how that always seems to cheer me, even when it's been so rainy!

Ardis Journal

Blake, is strong, patient, caring, and funny.  I'm falling in love with him more each day.  This is not right.  I'm still a married woman as far as I know.  I get frustrated with myself because it's far too easy to compare Blake to Tom.  Tom comes up short.

I've known Tom for most if not all of my life.  He was my friend from the time we were small.  He was actually more like an older brother.  He had no siblings until he was almost an adult.  I never had any siblings.  That seemed to bond us.  Our parents were very close friends as well.  They traveled from Scotland to Tennessee together.

Tom only ever wanted to play three ways.  One was to climb trees.  I enjoyed that the most.  It seemed magical as though we were in fairyland.  (Tom didn't like to consider that there were fairies).  One was to pretend we were horses and gallop about.  The last was to play army and I disliked that game, so much! I never liked to even pretend to hurt any other person.

So I would get bored eventually and go create my own play.  I liked to make fairies out of sticks, leaves, and other things I could find in the forest.  I made about twenty fairies.  I named each one of them.  Then I built them fairy houses.  My favorite fairy was Lunley.  She was the Chief Fairy.  She bossed all of the male fairies around.  I guess I got kind of tired of Tom's bossiness and that was why I created the women leaders.

When it became apparent that both of my parents were dying, our roles changed.  Tom became even more protective. He didn't ask me, he told me that he was going to marry me.  Mama had told me about the birds and the bees.  It was still a strange shock to me after Tom and I were married.  I wanted to feel passion towards Tom but all that I ever felt was a dull fondness.. 

I feel passion for, with, and about Blake.  I crave the gentle touch of his hand on my cheek.  I know that we would have a very different relationship from the one that Tom and I shared.  I only wish that was possible.

Sigh...I must get some rest.  I have lots to do tomorrow.  I just want to lie here in this bed and imagine what life would be like married to Blake Calkin.  Maybe sometime?  No, I can't think this way.  Tom...I do care about him.  The last thing that I want is for him to suffer harm.

Shakespeare said how I feel ever so well, "To sleep, perchance to dream."  Maybe as I dream I can escape the guilty feelings that I have towards Blake.  I will never act on those feelings as long as I don't know if Tom is alive.  Yet dreaming about them, somehow that is innocent, right?