la reine est arrivee
Just when Jami, Christie, and I had set the alarm and were preparing to take a nap on the hay in the barn loft for a couple of hours, Grace not being supposed to arrive until threeish, a cell call came from the driver, who was just coming into Tivoli. I hadn't really believed she was coming all day, and even when the trailer pulled up in the driveway I was not completely convinced that the right horse was inside until I saw her.
Lynda had obviously spent a great deal of time grooming her to perfection. I can scarcely recall the last time her mane looked so nice.
After the first few minutes of both horses driving her around the pasture a bit, Gypsy started being friendly although Thor kept up with the chasing and biting. As of six this morning, his constant barging between the mares to drive them apart had ceased to succeed in keeping them apart for any appreciable length of time and Grace was relaxing nicely into her new home and walking up occasionally to say hi to me. By eight, when I left, the mares were grazing together and Thor was off in the distance.
I hereby officially declare the hay loft a truly kickass space. The smell is divine, the fresh air is lovely, there was one mosquito, the atmosphere would be unbeatable for a revived ghost story night, and the hay makes a fine mattress. Why I could barely sleep there at all last night I don't know.
Lynda had obviously spent a great deal of time grooming her to perfection. I can scarcely recall the last time her mane looked so nice.
After the first few minutes of both horses driving her around the pasture a bit, Gypsy started being friendly although Thor kept up with the chasing and biting. As of six this morning, his constant barging between the mares to drive them apart had ceased to succeed in keeping them apart for any appreciable length of time and Grace was relaxing nicely into her new home and walking up occasionally to say hi to me. By eight, when I left, the mares were grazing together and Thor was off in the distance.
I hereby officially declare the hay loft a truly kickass space. The smell is divine, the fresh air is lovely, there was one mosquito, the atmosphere would be unbeatable for a revived ghost story night, and the hay makes a fine mattress. Why I could barely sleep there at all last night I don't know.