With the rainy season in full swing the stables at Grandalia Bend Farms on the corner of Weston Road and Rigsby Lane are perilous.
As a two footed human I slip and slide in the clay-ey ruts and puddles, which reach my ankles and spill over into my short wellies…I must remember to wear my knee highs next time!
Most of the time the horses will meet me at the gate to save me gliding through the well trodden parts of their fields but today I had to wade out to them.
Then we had to navigate the ruts and puddles to the hosing bay where I soaked them, lathered them and rinsed…and took them back to their quagmire.
Cash wouldn’t venture over to me and I understood why. The entryway to his paddock was deep in muddy water. I kept close to the fence line and sloshed and slithered my way to the concrete slab that was his high ground.
After throwing on his harness, together we skidded through the slick-ness to the gate and lolly-lagged over to the shower stall.
He looked as if he’d applied a full body mud-mask.
Getting his face clean was an exercise in patience rewarded with carrots. He kept nuzzling my neck dripping dirty water all over me.
Finally he was done, except for the very edges of his ears.
Horses do not like to get their heads wet and I don’t want to push it in such a small space. I usually climb onto a step stool and raise myself up to their eye-level so I can wash their faces with a wet glove.
No lolly-lagging on the return trip…he had an agenda now..we trotted off to his floating paddock where I unharnessed him at the gate, and let him wade over to the grass where he stood looking clean and happy.
For a moment!
I secured his gate and waited…then it happened.
He’s a very happy horse!
Rolling Cash!
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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