Last night, all was joy. My offer for the lost mare was accepted. I immediately fired off thrilled emails to the barefoot trimmer and the back person and the nutritionist, putting them on full alert. I just kept my fingers crossed for the vet.
Then, this morning, the acceptance was rescinded. It was, in the end, too low. It was all I could afford, and what I thought was about right for a project horse who will need so much time and care and rehabilitation.
I am peculiarly sad. The sensible part of me says what am I doing getting a mare who has clearly had a hard time with one of her old owners, and who has been sold on at least three times. I wanted to get a nice family horse, so the World Traveller and the Nieces could ride, and The Younger Brother, when he comes to stay. The sensible thing is to get something from a known yard, with a known history.
The not sensible part is in deep mourning. She was a sweetheart, and I think she would have loved it here, with the quiet and the view of the mountain and sweet Red to jolly her along. I just hope that she finds someone who will give her the time and care she so needs. I think I have to trust to the universe, although I often find that quite difficult. Terrible Black Beauty scenarios present themselves. But the current owner is a good kind person, and would not let her go to a charlatan.
Ah, well. My plans crash and tumble about my ears. If anyone knows of a gentle Thoroughbred mare in the Aberdeenshire area who would like a good home, let me know. We have a very thrilling plan to put Myfanwy into a herd project in the rolling Deeside woods for a few weeks, to deal with her weight, and Red needs a new friend. And I must take my mind off the dear mare with the sad eyes.
Up at Red’s View they are getting the harvest in. I love the colours:
What amazes me about those photographs is how different the colours in each one are, as I faced in different directions, and the clouds and light shifted over my head.
The View itself:
The glorious girl:
The other glorious girl: