morning mist floating

morning mist floating

downstream above the current,

two horses grazing

The day after Labor Day, everyone has gone back to work or school and Hruska's Campground on the Upper Iowa River is deserted. When I step out of our tent in the early morning, mist blankets the meadow in layers like wool roving and floats in clusters downstream, hovering just above the water like a second river. I am surprised to see three horses casually walking through the park, unfettered by fences. When they see me, they trot to the far end of the grassy area. The two white mares drop their heads to graze, but the bay keeps his head up, watchful. We watch each other until a yellow school bus rattles down the gravel road and pulls into the the driveway of the brick house across the way, red lights flashing. The horses lift their heads and canter away from the noise and lights, then break into a gallop, vanishing into the mist.

summertime parade

summertime parade 

of horse power, hoofs to wheels,

farmers proudly waving

The rain held off for the summer solstice parade. Fairfield is a farming community, and this parade proudly displays the horse power that has driven agriculture in the Midwest, from horses used for pulling plows to steam-powered and then gasoline-powered tractors. As time goes on, the tractors get bigger and fancier; the latest models have air-conditioned cabs. The parade, which began at the town square, proceeds along Broadway to the public high school, farmers proudly sitting astride their tractors while folks enjoy a ride in a horse-drawn carriage. 

woman with red hat

woman with red hat

and a lone untethered horse

on a steep stone street

Late afternoon in a small pueblo near the Temple of the Sun in the Sacred Valley. The narrow stone-paved street, bisected by a rain gutter, is bordered by adobe brick houses built on rough stone foundations. The woman walking away from me up the hill is wearing the traditional costume of this region of the Andes: a saucer shaped red felt hat that perches on top of her braided hair, a red striped k'eperina tied around her shoulders and a full black wool skirt edged with red. The horse watches her approach and slowly pass by. Suddenly, she turns and looks back, but keeps walking, still looking back over her shoulder, until she moves out of sight.

beyond the thorn tree

beyond the thorn tree

and barbed fence, three black horses

watch geese winging north

Solid grey cloud cover but no rain or snow. The Canada Geese come and go in small flocks of eight or ten or twelve. They fly in pairs, shifting from straight dotted lines to apexes to ragged clusters. At dusk they land on a convenient pond for the night, then fly on the next day. The geese fly silently, but even so, the horses look up as they pass overhead, winging north. Then the horses return to cropping dry grass in their enclosure.