Lost on a trail in Maine

John, Callie, and I started today with an 8 a.m. road trip to Dover Saddlery's annual tent sale--oooeee! Too much good stuff and not enough money. We controlled ourselves, and were back home by noon. Then we had to go try our new stuff on Harley.
The sun was shining and the wind blowing, just enough to keep things chilly (I hauled my fleece breeches back out), and the woods beckoned. Harley hopped around, snorting at all sorts of "spooky" things. John rode him out, telling me to meet him at Cheney Woods Rd. where we'd swap riders and I'd ride home. After 45 minutes of waiting, during which I hauled a log out to make a little jump, read the Chronicle, and walked around with dog, I decided to scratch a message in the dirt for John (J. went to N P). I drove back to North Point--no sign of him there, drove back up the road and peered down the turnoff. There he was, waving his arms at me and laughing. He'd taken a wrong turn and wound up a few miles away (as the crow flies).
I hopped aboard Harley for the ride home, complete with a couple of nice trots, a little jump, & a canter. We took a side trail that added an extra loop before heading back out to the road. That's when things got gnarly for Harley. He spooked at blowing leaves, 2 cars passing eachother, and the dogs running behind the barn. He was definitely have a Thoroughbred moment, or two, or three. All I can do is laugh at him when he's like that and know that he's feeling good. Not such a brave boy today, but more like a prankster.