The neighbor's horses got out again this week.
I'm sure you all know what that means.
It means hours of work cut from your day, lost to the wind as you try and rein them all into order out of the kindness of your own heart. You could have been out grocery shopping, stopping by the bank, paying the bills. Instead, you're doing what needs to be done.
And you wouldn't have it any other day.
The funny thing is it happened while they were moving the cattle. Something about how it's time for the cows to give birth; I'm a horse girl, not a cowgirl, even if sometimes they end up being one and the same. So not only did we have to deal with the horses being on the loose, but the cows were thinking that freedom seemed mighty fine at the same time.
But for all my complaints, you know that I loved it. Under my exhaustion and mild frustration, I loved it. I loved helping my neighbors and I loved having a chance to spend time with their horses.
How often do your horses manage to escape their pastures? Do you have an especially sneaky mare who manages to slip under the bottom fence rung when it should not even be close to being physically possible? How about a stallion who's a little too interested in the girl next door?
For now, I'm going to go sit back and relax and think of the times someone helped me get my own horses back. I'm incredibly grateful, even years later. I can remember every time it's happened, leaning out the window of a truck with a treat in hand, calling to them. I may have even written a post or two about the times it's happened.
How about you?
Photo by Laura LaRose on Flickr.