[This post was scheduled for last Monday, but lack of internet in town has caused a few delays.]
When I woke up on Saturday morning I could see horses from my bedroom window. My horses!
Bless their little cotton socks, they walked onto the Majestic truck at 7am on Friday as if they do it every day of their lives (for those readers who don’t own horses, this is the equine equivalent of your car flying through its WOF on the first pass). Kerry, the driver, exuding the calm competent energy that is the signature of an experienced horseman, buckled them in (so to speak) and off they went. I believe I may have heard the faint strains of ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ as the truck moved away. That would have been Summer. Bonnie is more your Public Enemy sort of pony.
By 10am we were all at the farmlet. Yours truly having raced Kerry up State Highway One — while of course adhering to the speed limit at all times. As the horses settled into their paddock of grassy goodness and munched on a few flakes of hay I tried for photos, getting, as usual, mainly this:
All in all, despite equine non-compliance with management’s photocall requests, a most delightfully successful day.