barn lessons

we were all over the place today, mucking one stall, fiddling with another horse. seemed to be doing everything and nothing at once. it was not confusion, so much as spontenaiety, which i don't mind. but i never really could get my feet under me.

and walking back from the paddock, nicole said,

there's buck.

and i was surprised to seem him in a turn out beside her barn. i grinned from ear to ear and waved. he pricked his ears forward and lifted his head.

i forget i should not be so enthusiastic about what is not mine.

but then i think, if he's being ignored, not so much neglected as ignored, is it wrong to lavish my affections on him? should i hide that or be ashamed of that?

besides, i think everyone knows anyway.

though i tried to keep it hush, hush. i guess making a bee line for his paddock is something of a hint. lingering there as long as possible, perhaps another.

what can i say, i'm discreet.

but wandering back in, apart from my get it done mentality, i stood there beside the big guy, who was shrieking for his stablemate who had been turned out with my girl's new favorite horse.

his earpiercing cries are more heartwrenching than irritating, so i kept walking over to him, standing beside him, (the top of my head comes to his withers), and stroking his graceful shoulders, feeling his whole body cry out.

there's something beautiful, magnificent about the way a horse throws his whole being into whatever it is he happens to be doing.

even spooking.

i tried to just stand there (and no, i didn't spook him, but i moved my hand once, and he stepped back from me, because i had been across the aisle in another stall when he cried out). his calls did not have his intended effect. drawing, instead this predatory looking two legged, who would take up arms beside him and stroke him.

but he calmed. when i'd walk away he'd cry out. and so i abandoned my appointed task and tried to do nothing but send him strength. to encourage him in his uncertainty.

and my girl, when finally in his stall said,

if you do his buckets, i'll do the stall.

and i jumped at the offer. proving even i grow weary of manual labor.

sure the waterbuckets are heavy and dirty, especially his. he loses more grain out of his mouth than down his throat, i'm convinced by the clouded muck which invariably rests at the bottom of his bucket.

so i clean and fill his buckets and she abandons the stall.

we discuss the original deal, and finally i say,

if you don't keep your word, what is it worth?

she tries to get around my question.

if you don't keep your word, what is it worth?

again, she evades.

if you don't keep your word, what is it worth?

nothing.

and perhaps, this was the reason we were there today. the stuff of brushes and horsehair and mucking stalls is scenery at this point. we are there because we said we would, because our word means something.