There are flakes of alfalfa in the pockets of my jeans.
My horse friends Rusty and Grace mosey over to me to visit when the dog and I walk past the horse pasture each morning.
The light has been beautiful, often filtering through a light fog that seems to build as the air warms with the sunrise.
The horses nuzzle against my pockets. They know where the treats are hidden.
The mornings are good.
