Hey, lady, if you want all three of us in the picture, you're gonna have to give us a a little sugar.
They saw no reason to cooperate with me today since I had forgotten to bring them a treat. Even with promises of future gifts, they remained aloof.
But back to my story.
Every morning, a car arrives and parks along the old barn where the horses are sheltered. An older woman in a red hooded sweatshirt with knee high rubber boots enters the barn and soon carries a blue tarp out into the field and drops the contents of hay into three separate piles. A gray tiger striped cat with white paws, trots behind her, tail held straight up, picking its way along the fence line. Occasionally he stops to inspect something, then races along to catch up.
The woman and the gray cat return to the barn and shortly later, three chestnut horses emerge.
The woman and the cat do this every morning. Every day.
And when dusk comes, the horses have gathered by the barn.
Waiting to be bedded down, I imagine.
Grain placed in their feeding troughs.
This morning, upon release, the horses run through the field, kicking and nipping at each other in play, apparently delighted in their release. They race the length of the field, one after the other, single file. Back and forth, dirt flying from their hooves, sometimes slipping in the late winter mud, only to regain their balance and continue their pursuit of an imaginary race.
I suppose they feel that the winter chill has left the air today, with promises of 60 degree weather. They soon settle down and begin the task of feeding.
Something about the promise of 60 degree weather after a harsh, cold winter where snow is still piled five feet high in my driveway, makes me want to run and gallop and kick up my heels.
The promise of spring just around the corner.
Yippee Ki-Yay!
Have a beautiful day,
missing the mom gene
