Horses and Cobbler

Tonight I went to help do yard work at one Mike Palmer's home. His wife, Faith, busied herself creating Dutch oven chicken, cheese potatoes, beans, and peach cobbler. My friend, Cathy, and I engaged in stacking pallets, but were soon made obsolete by the three men in the work group. They were strong, and I couldn't even carry a pallet by myself, so I understand. We instead made ourselves useful by helping in the kitchen.
Shortly after I grated a half block of cheese, their daughter Charly taught us how to ride horses. (I ought to be doing homework right now.) I had never ridden a horse before, and I felt pretty ridiculous trying to steer the thing and kicking it-only to have it move 10 feet and stop again. When I got the thing to trot, I experienced turbulence something like that of a baby bouncer seat, and then I nearly got my head kicked by another horse named Cinnamon, when I rode to close to her.
We ate.
The boys went off to ride, some of them, and Mike and James (?) shot hoops in the back yard, while the women stood by a campfire encircled by The One Ring and discussed books we had read and what's good. Nothing quite like that good old library feeling. When the boys came back, they joined us by the fire, and we slurped down peaches and cream, patted our tummies, and said good night.