Crossing the Cedar

A weathered cedar stake lay flat across the gap between two flagstones, bridging the dark soil beneath. I drew rein a few paces back to give the horse time to size it up. The wood was sun-bleached gray and split with dry grain, sturdy enough not to give way under weight. We eased forward one deliberate step at a time, hooves making a dry clatter against the timber before planting clean on the far stone. The trail between the garden beds is narrow, but good footing makes all the difference.