MORNING MIST
The mud fell from his boot as he hoisted himself into the saddle, the rope in his hand hitting the side of his leg. This was his favorite time of day, early. He loved the quiet stillness of morning as he rode through the pasture. He’d noticed a break in the fence earlier, and needed to make sure everything was okay.
The morning mist glinted like diamonds on the grass as the sun, barely over the horizon, kissed the grass and the time of gentle awakening of all God’s creatures began, with a kick of his spur.
COW PASTURE CHRONICLES 
Hi Sheila,
I like your story. It is the kind of story I like to begin a Monday morning with. It speaks of peace and nature and a person being at home in that peace. Very nice.
Ciao,
Patricia
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Patricia,
Thank you so much for your kind words. I’m glad you enjoyed my story. I hope you’ll stop by again.
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