Maybe

Well, the girls are doing pretty good. We've had some pretty warm weather this week so most of the snow is gone but that means that mud is here. It's too early for spring mud season but we've got a little sneak-peek at it this week. Cleo doesn't seem to mind it much, she likes to run in it and roll around in it. She's also smart enough to know her limits in it and won't do too much thats real foolish in it. Grace is still leary of being outside. I've been waiting for the ice to melt in the round pen so I could turn her out in there but that must not get nearly as much sun and heat as the paddocks. I'd rather let Grace out in the round pen first (both to start some learning and to get all of her energy out) before introducing her to board fence and hot wire. Well we'll have to see where the New England weather takes us. Last I saw, we're on the hook for another 6-10" on Monday. I'm really hoping we get a bit of cold first so the top layer of mud can freeze back over - otherwise plowing the snow could be interesting.

Ran across the following poem that I thought was worth sharing.

Maybe ...

Maybe it's the hat. The way he tips it with one hand while he extends the other to shake a woman's hand, knowing that's how his daddy would have done it.

Maybe it's the clothes. The way he wears the crisp shirts and starched Wranglers and the boots with the spurs that never come off, jingling with each step he takes.

Maybe it's the horse. The way he sits in the saddle and looks as comfortable as most men do on their sofas, moving as only a man who has experienced true freedom can.

Maybe it's the way he talks. The way he chooses the fewest words to make the greatest impact, knowing the fancy phrases but not needing the recognition that comes from using them.

Maybe it's in his face. The way he can say so much without ever opening his mouth; his sun-tanned skin, the piercing eyes, the boyish grin that holds the hurt inside.

Maybe it's his financial prowess. The way he doesn't spend money on himself, opting instead to pick up the beer tab with the boys or to bring flowers to a lady.

Maybe it's the way he dances. The way he silently communicates his next move, holding a woman close and leaving no question as to who is in the lead.

Maybe it's his attitude. The way he loves unconditionally and trusts completely, able to visit with a stranger as openly and freely as a lifelong friend.

Maybe it's his ethics. The way he is always the last to leave the barn, staying after the last horse is put away to spend extra time playing with his dog who put in as many hours that day as he did.

Maybe it's the total package. The way one minute with him takes you back in time, making you wish you had lived, for even one day, 100 years ago.

Laurie Denny - American Cowboy Magazine - Winter 2008 p. 22

Grace really enjoys being next to Cleo. So much so that she doesn't want to go back into her stall after being in the next stall over. She sure can be stubborn, I'll give her that. I gave her her first salt block today. At first she wasn't sure what to do with it - she spent a bunch of time trying to bite it but eventually figured out that she's supposed to lick it. Based on how much water she drank in a short time, I'm guessing she's got it figured out pretty well. Had to get Cleo a new block too, she goes through them about once a week.

Got to watch the AQHA Worlds from OKC on TV tonight - they showed cutting and reining. The athleticism and intelligence of the horses is amazing to me. A lot of training time and wet saddle pads there - and some good breeding doesn't hurt either.

Well, that's about all for now. Not much happening up here in New England in the winter without an indoor arena.