Lovely little walk today to a very secluded welsh cove to get a bit of peace. Okay, there were a couple of tents set up on the only bit of flat grass and the scent of a campfire wafted hither and thither on the breeze, but I minded my own. I sat on the pebbles to gaze out to sea, upwind. There’s a lot of worse things happening in the world at the moment, to worry about a little bit of illegal camping. I threw a few little pebbles at a big round ball shaped pebble in the near distance, until I hit it a few times and was proud of my aim. Four ponies plodded over the winding headland path, over the mound of pebbles well over to my right and onto the wet sand. I wonder who was today’s occupants of well worn saddles. The ponies probably do this several times a week or maybe once a day, as they seem to know where they were expected to go. In the distance, I could see the lead rider encouraging a little canter along the waters edge. The second pony just wanted to trot, as the third not realising the hesitation nearly plowed it’s nose into the arse of the second. I smirked inside, finding it gently amusing. I wondered about this little group of eight animals, each doing their part of a semi-planned, semi-predictable and probably not so enjoyable dream. Out on the edge, the cold wind, old saddles and I was much happier and glad of the pebbles under my bum. It were my feet that walked the long lane to bring me to this point. I had the freedom to come and go at my own pace or to stay still and take in the scene, the view, a little bit of peaceful ponders.
Over Soil 