on another note

it really does feel like august. the grass is all crisp and honey colored and smells like the vacation my family took when i was thirteen, to this little cabin on a river in wenatchee. i brought my bike, and there was a field and it smelled so good, like dry grass. grass hoppers were everywhere and would fly out from underneath my tires as i rode through the field. there were horses down the rode and i had just gotten the notion that i should marry i cowboy, so i rode my bike down the road to watch the horses. i had never been on a horse before, but in the second and third grade i collected plastic horses and my father built me a miniature horse stable with a trough and hay. when i did finally sit on a horse, at summer camp a year later, i found it terrifying. i am afraid of heights and horses are tall. but still, i was in love with the horseback riding instructor: a tall, lean cowboy from oklahoma, whose camp name was swiffer (like the cleaning products and dusters). he made me swoon. he wore the same tight jeans, white tee shirt, and cowboy hat everyday. i still have a soft spot cowboys, but horses scare the shit out of me. funny that i should meet jordan, from the wyoming badlands (the state with the license plate with a bucking horse and cowboy!), and find in him a lovable man. one who is also a bit uncomfortable with horses and owns nothing comparable to a cowboy hat or a pair of wrangler jeans, or, as a matter of fact, any jeans at all. anyway, i know it's august when the smell of dried grass gets me thinking about wenatchee, and horses, and swiffer, and jordan's calloused hands that could easily resemble a cowboy's calloused hands.