Today, I cooked my mother breakfast and took her some flowers, just because. I took some more flowers to my brother-in-law, for his birthday, because nobody ever gives men flowers and they should. I had a lovely chat with the ladies in the flower shop.
I worked the mare in the snow and she was so good and sweet and funny that I ran out of words for enchanting. I am trying not to use my voice, because all the great horsemen are silent. It’s one of the things I notice. ‘Good girl,’ does not really mean much to a horse. But in the end, the words burst out, because my heart was overflowing. ‘Well done,’ I cried, as she did a perfect free-school. She waggled her donkey ears at me, happy in her world. Perhaps she does understand a little bit of English after all.
Stanley continued his Great Mouse Hunt and scared the crap out of a cowardly buzzard.
Then I did work and work and work and work and work.
And all the time I was thinking: must have something interesting for the Dear Readers. The blog has been very paltry lately. Surely there must be something meaty and chewy and entirely fascinating.
The brain sent out messengers to all parts of the kingdom and they came back empty.
I have nothing for you. Just a very, very ordinary day.
And you know the awful thing is that my secret pride is that I think deep thoughts. How the hollow laughter of the hubris angels ring around the barren land.
Well, just one, from the Instagram. I think I rather overdid it with the filter. Even the red duchess is not that red:
This is dozing after some most excellent work. (It’s always important to give them a really good rest so that they have thinking time, and all the lessons can sink in to the clever thoroughbred mind.) Notice the interested face of Autumn the Filly in the background, very, very slightly smug because nobody is asking her to do transitions in the snow.