11/10/11┬áThis morning the grass was frosted over and cowboy camp’s spine shivered.

Finehorn stood with frost in her mane, and I had coffee (which is something i do now on the road) and hitchhiked to town – an insane day of car hopping, back to potter valley 60 miles west to retrieve saddle pads, clumsily left in S’s trailer attic. 1,060 more words