I sat down yesterday to do a Blog entry, and really had not much to talk about. This month I've got 3 horses to start under saddle, and a baby greenie lesson horse to keep in tune, all the while taking care of the barn, mucking stalls, teaching, and making sure the grass doesn't grow above my knees. Somewhere in between all of that, I try to find time to ride my stallion, Ozzy. I am so very thankful he's the kind of horse that's the same whether you've ridden him yesterday, or two weeks ago. Well, for the most part anyway.
But, none of that is noteworthy, it's just another day around the farm. So I thought about writing a little something about how this business truly was a labor of love. I even had my opening sentence written: "Remembering why we do what we do on any given day, sometimes gets lost in the hustle and bustle of our daily lives". But, I got side tracked on something else and never got back to it. Then, I opened the door to go feed this morning, and thought to myself, yup, definitely a labor of love, perfect topic.
The headline across my weather forecast today read: "Soaking Weekend Ahead, Flooding Possible". You see that red blob? We're somewhere in there. What the forecast should have said was, don't leave the house without a wet-suit, flippers and a snorkel. Or, better yet, make sure you pack a life-jacket and an inflatable raft. With up to 4" of rain in the forecast, any sane, normal human being, would have stayed inside - snuggled in bed, or under a blanket on the couch watching a movie with a cup of hot coco. But, no, not me. Just before making myself lunch, I wandered out to check on everybody during a point of time where the rain had changed from pouring, to normal. Of course, my horses being the absolutely spoiled rotten animals that they are, were all standing in their stalls with the little bit of fluff they had left standing up on end, shivering. They're inside, dry, it's 55 degrees outside, and they want their blankets. Of course, with a new pony in the barn, this meant going to all my different storage areas, trying to come up with pony sized clothing. It's May, for crying out loud. 
I took the luxury of going back inside, eating lunch, seeing my husband off to work, and drying my damp self off. It didn't take long before I can hear Ozzy's distinctive call. He wants his lunch. So, I bundle myself back up, and donning my knee high rubber boots, trudge back out to get them their hay. The book title, A River Runs Through It, certainly came to mind as I crossed our now raging drainage ditch. The rain had now turned from pouring to deluge. By the time I had finished giving everyone their hay, I understood what the weatherman meant about a soaking rain. Every layer I had on was soaked. 
But, as I headed for the house, he called to me again. The prince was still not happy. He wanted his lunch. I think he must be part Hobbit. Maybe I should re-name him Pippin. He eats 4, sometimes 5, meals a day. Now, you have to know two things about Ozzy. He's 66% Saddlebred, thus he has a metabolism like the energizer bunny. And, second, he doesn't really like hay. So, for him, 'lunch' is 3 qts Alfalfa cubes, 3qts beet pulp, rice bran and some grain - soaked. Forget the debate about whether or not you should soak your cubes or beet pulp. He won't eat the beat pulp dry, and if his cubes are hard, he spits them out on the floor.
So in I came, to soak his cubes, and find some more dry clothes. There will be at least 3 more trips out in the down pour, to the barn, before the day is over. I must take the prince his lunch, and the rest of them will need their dinner, and their late night check (yes, they get "tucked in" at night). It is days like today, when sometimes you might ask yourself, why? It's love - for the horses, for the sport, and for the kids that you teach and watch grow as people.
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