Today, I am grateful that I have excellent gumboots.
I’m especially grateful that my excellent gumboots do not have a hole in them.
I’m grateful that I’ve got a hat that keeps off the weather.
I’m grateful that when my friend and my landlord ring me up to tell me that the horses are out, they sound amused, rather than cross. (Landlords do not always want thoroughbreds galloping about over their nice, neat grass.)
I’m grateful that I only had to halter the red mare, and the other two followed happily on their own, as if they were off to a party. I looked at the red mare as we walked home. She had that look on her face that means she can handle anything. I adore that look. It means we are in it together and we’ll set everything to rights and we are a supertop old lady team.
I’m grateful that when I decided that, tough as these horses are, rugs were called for, the herd gathered themselves in a nice circle and stood like saints whilst I wrangled with the straps. Everything was flapping about like mad, because of the gales, but you would have thought that each mare had a devoted handler at her head. One of the things I’ve always loved about the horsemanship I practise is that you can put the rugs on in a thunderstorm without having to tie anyone up. The Standing Still Olympics come into their own.
And I’m grateful that I could stump home, windswept and damp, to find a warm house with the roof still on. I’m appreciating every inch of that as I type this. I’m just hoping that the power lines don’t come down. But I’ve got blankets and candles and two dear lurchers to keep me warm.