The Mourning Doves were in the trees all around us, their mournful songs echoed throughout this little valley.
The spring had not been visited by any equines recently. There was no sign of them anywhere, no tracks, no manure. The small paths they had walked last August were completely covered with grasses.
Even while being surrounded by the vibrant, bountiful, beauty of this landscape, the emptiness and quiet was overwhelming and sobering... we left the high desert with heavy hearts..
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