Horse Hill
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
-Wendell Berry
Tucked away in the heart of Marin County, California, is one of my favorite places to photograph—Horse Hill Preserve in Mill Valley. It’s a quiet, open stretch of land where privately owned horses roam freely across the rolling green hills, sharing the trails with hikers who move peacefully through their world.
Marin has its fair share of open spaces, but there’s something about Horse Hill that feels different. Maybe it’s the way the light hits the hills in late afternoon, how the horses seem to appear right when you least expect them—grazing quietly, or trotting along the ridge. I marvel at how their movements together across the landscape have imprinted it with their rhythm, their memory—like a whispered story written in the language of hooves and hard ground. The view from the top is breathtaking, with Mill Valley below, and our beloved Mt. Tamalpias above. In spring wildflowers dot the slopes, birds of all sorts abound, and everything feels calm, connected, and alive.
I’ve been drawn to horses since I was a kid—they’ve always held a kind of quiet magic for me. But until I visited Horse Hill, I’d never truly witnessed the beauty of a herd moving as one, interacting in their natural hierarchy. It’s incredible to watch—how they protect each other, how they communicate without words, how they simply exist together. Every time I return, camera in hand, I feel that same pull—a connection that runs deeper than words. This place, this herd, has become part of my creative pulse. It grounds me. It reminds me of what it means to be present, to belong, and to create from a place of truth and love.