A Very Nearly Tea

At the first snow, my son looked out longingly, desiring to build a snowman. But he was sick. And mean old mom wouldn't let him go outside. Then mom was sick. Then the baby was sick. Somehow, however, the snow persisted. And a day finally came when all were well, a fine snow lay on the ground and we had time.

I let Bear go outside to play in the snow while I laid L. E. Fant down for her nap. Bear wasn't so sure.

You're really going to build a snowman with me?

Yes, really.

Really and truly?

Wild horses couldn't drag me away.

He giggled and went outside, suited up for the winter weather. I finished a feeding, changed a diaper and tucked a little one into bed. Got on my shoes and was looking for my scarf when Bear suddenly reappeared, reddened with cold or excitement. His eyes were wide and he had a queer expression on his face.

What are you doing back so fast? Did you get cold?

No. The wild horse came.

I looked at him with mock surprise. His little imagination can involve me in the most interesting of games.

Really? Where is he now?

Just outside. Maybe by the car. He came up to me and it scared me. I ran behind the shed until he was gone.

There was something about the way he looked out my window, expectantly, as if he really thought he might see something there. Something in his voice that sounded too real for make believe. I looked out hesitantly, almost expecting to see something. But there was nothing. Just a gentle snow on a winter day.

I went out the back door, but he wouldn't follow. His eyes were bright, both with excitement and with fear. I mused about how real a child's imagination can seem as I walked backwards, trying to coax him out.

Then I heard something. I wasn't quite sure what it was. It sounded like a person's sigh, but was too loud. To large a noise. I turned around and not ten feet from me was a large painted stallion, tossing his head in the crisp winter air. He snorted, stamped his feet, turned and galloped across the field with his mane and tail flowing behind him.

My son shrieked.

It's the wild horse!

I looked at him and at the horse, bewildered. The horse was now running at a full gallop, leaping over bushes, turning and tossing that magnificent head. He looked like a wild thing, free and exuberant. I went back inside and we watched him for the better part of the morning as he craftily evaded his owner who alternately attempted to lure him in with bribes of carrots and attempted to herd him with shouts and waves.

But the horse would not be captured. And our snowman would not be made.

Because wild horses really can get in the way of some things.