Via Verde

I remember distinctly hearing the sound of the wind in my ears. The memory becomes the here and now as I look down and realize I am standing on a brown sandy surface and I'm wearing my black ariat riding boots. Lifting my head I see an oval ring to my left. It's a riding arena. It's empty, but familiar. Its soft sand has felt the connection of my bottom from many falls, unfortunately so has the white wooden fence surrounding the arena. It's so hot, like a July day in Southern California. That's why it's familiar, this is Via Verde Equestrian Center!  Now a plethora of details begin to spring up around me. A huge oak with strings of lights embedded in its bark they have been there so long. So faintly I hear the laughter of ten year olds chasing each other around barbeques seated in among the wooden tables surrounding this venerable elder. The sandy surface I am standing on is the main walkway through the property. There are 3 riding arenas all with the same pristine sandy surface. Odd how weeds never seemed to grow around the arenas. Is it because they were so well used, or is it just the wistfulness of memory that makes it pristine? Along one side of the main arena soft grass leads up a slope and shade trees surround the arena. I hold out my hand under one of the trees, I feel drops of what I swear is moisture sprinkling down from the leaves. I cannot explain it and turn away. 

All three arenas are empty now, the light is glaring and even the trees seem .. sad. Ahead of me where my trainers mobile home and pool used to be are empty dragged spaces. Gone, all gone. Far to my right the pipe corrals that once held beloved barn ponies are now dismantled, lying in the sand waiting for someone to come and haul them away. Concerned I turn around. The clubhouse still stands, but there is no sound from the soda machine, as it too, has been taken away. Everything is quiet except for the sound of the wind as it ripples over the sand. Everyone has left ..

I woke up blinking in the bright sunshine of morning. What an unbelievable dream!
"Wow, that was pretty scary. I didn't even have those boots when I rode there!" I told myself and leaped out of bed to snatch a riding shirt from the pile on my desk.

It was easy to forget that dream for the moment as I arrived at Via Verde and threw my arms around my favorite pony.  He was just as happy to see me as he wolfed down his breakfast and I groomed him in his stall. Just barely big enough to be a horse, he had an odd zigzag white stripe down his face, but I didn't care that he looked "unfinished" or that none of us could ever really identify what breed he was. I saddled him and we walked together around the property. The rich California sunshine had us in a good mood that Saturday. He snatched a leaf from a tree and played with it as we waited our turn to jump the course set by the trainer. Today was a challenge. I had never jumped a four foot oxer which was as big as I was at that time. Green and white poles flashed underneath the horses belly as I carefully controlled the jump. I remember the thrill, the pounding heart, it was like flying! I snuck a look around. The big half round jumps were still there, the gates, the fake red and white brick wall. The other arenas with their simple warm up poles were filled with other students and teachers. The sadness and fear of the dream faded away.

One Year Later

I led my pony down the main walkway of Via Verde for the very last time. The heat of the June sun beat down on us and at the trailer he hesitated, but I put a hand on his halter.

"You've done this before boy, you'll be good, won't you? Come on now..."

His hesitation vanished and his hooves thumped on the ramp and into the straw filled deck of the trailer.

"Good boy."

I unclipped his lead and slid out with one more pat on his rump. He was the last school pony to go to a new home. He had been sold for a generous amount.

I handed over the lead to the new owners, as faceless as the tears on my cheeks and began my trudge back up to the barn and then all at once lifted my head.

The sound of the truck faded into the distance as it rumbled away up the back road. I realized all at once, the arenas were empty. No jumps remained. Just the sandy riding surface. One or two whickers floated to me from the permanent barns where just one or two private horses awaited their transport but the wind was predominant. I turned around slowly. My trainers mobile home had been moved up the hill yesterday so it would not interfere with the new owners rebuilding efforts. Its areas were scraped clear from the bulldozer preparations. The rusty old pipe corrals were laying down in the sand waiting for the construction company to take them away. I lowered my head as I realized that the soda machine in front of the club house was gone. The whole property seemed to sigh a last goodbye.

Had God been telling me that nothing lasts forever? I would like to think it was a warning. Perhaps that brief warning allowed me to prepare mentally for the loss of a place that proved so prominent in my memory. It was the setting for many accomplishments, a rich and vibrant inspiration and lasting legacy to my soul.