Fifteen miles outside of Tbilisi, but over an hour of driving away, tossed around on rock and dirt of steep cutting hill roads. A small stable clearing. Nature is the only noise, pure wild bliss. Bread, cheese, and fresh strawberries waiting for us, my dream.
We’re speaking in broken English, broken Georgian. I am learning to ride in the yellow, red, purple, white wildflowers on green rolling hills. The lion dog running alongside, panting, disappearing into the forest, emerging from the stream, rolling in the grass, and the foal close to its mother up ahead. Hot sun and fresh air, on the back of a horse for the first time in my adult life in this postcard scene, pausing to breathe, reminding myself that I am really here. I could not have planned this, but here I am with a new friend; a lesson in the Georgian art of trust and letting go.
Back at the barn, baby pigs. An entire supra, strawberry meringue cake, wine. No timeline, no rush to leave. The lion dog wags his tail. Time is open ended.
When: May 2021