Time Goes By

First “hunt,” age 5, riding a mini borrowed from the Dozier clan for Belle Meade’s annual beagle hunt.Time...where does it go? How could I have accumulated so many memories in such a short time? It seems like only yesterday that I was hunting with pure abandon, escaping from the realities of life, and enjoying nothing but the thrill of running wildly through the woods, listening to the cry of the hounds, feeling the cold air rushing past my ears, and at the end of the day relishing the after effects of the adrenalin rush. I had been hunting for about fifteen years or so.

Then, over the past few years (has it been six already?) there was a gradual change in life and attitude. Time passed, and with it some of the reckless abandon was replaced by a more conservative respect for staying in the saddle and on top of the horse. This was brought on by the responsibility I incurred when I decided that bringing my granddaughter, Alayna, into the hunt would be a good idea.

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