On Saturday evening Jiggs and I returned from our evening walk. Usually, I would go upstairs to start cooking dinner.
That night I decided to take a look at the beach. Just as I opened the gate, I saw four horses. Not that unusual. There are lots of horses and mules traversing the sands of Melaque.
But the riders were unusual. Instead of the usual adults, these were four young boys.
And they knew what they were doing. Their mounts were wheeling and rearing. And then I saw why. The boys were showing off for some young girls. A universal of the beach.
Two rode east; two rode west.
If you know me well enough, you will immediately know what I tried to do. I tried to shoot a photograph without the rider noticing. He did.
Instead of a glare, he looked at me. Smiled. And called all of his companions over for a photograph.
The result is at the top of the post. I should have taken my time. Instead, I snapped it off -- expecting that the boys would be on their way.
Instead, they sat there and told me their names and the names of their horses. The breed and age of each horse.
Then they asked questions about Jiggs and me.
At one point, my NOB mentality kicked in. "I wonder if they expect a fee for posing?" That happened to me several ties in Brazil. But these boys were simply interested in showing how proud they were of their horses.
(As I write this, I realize they were expecting one thing that I could and should have done: to see the photographs I took. Another lesson to remember.)
And then they were on their way. The boy who spoke the most reared his horse several times for me. My digital camera simply would not cooperate. But his smile says everything.
As they were leaving, I realized I knew these boys. They were my 4-H classmates who had that mystical relationship with large animals.
For a moment, I was transported back to 1950s Oak Grove. And watched part of my past ride away down the beach.