I’ve mentioned more than once to Mark that I should probably sell the horses before winter sets in, not because I want to, but because we don’t really know how long we will be living here, and finding them a wonderful home is very serious business to me. The house has had some close calls regarding selling, and we are now listing the entire 50 acres, sort of giving up the back up plan of selling the house on only 12 acres. At any time, with little notice, we might just have to pack up and vacate. Anyway, I’d hate to put off attending to the inevitable problem of finding a home for my beloved horses until my options are limited. That would kill me ten times over, so, I’ve priced them at 1/3 what they are worth, hoping a serious horse lover will surface without me having to pass them on to just anyone, and this will help me live with the heartbreak. When Mark told me a friend from work was interested and would be stopping by this weekend to take a look I decided I should go spend some time with them. Partially to clean them up (They are remarkably dirty from the fall rain and mud ) and partially because I will miss them dreadfully and I just wanted to spend this beautiful day with them.
I gave them both a bath, loving them with soap and water and touch, and they nuzzled me and licked my palm looking for a treat and I felt my heart shrivel up like the Grinch’s in the movie when “His heart grew three sizes that day” . . . only in reverse.
I thought I’d like get some additional pictures of them, actually, pictures of me with them, and I even had a camera in the pocket of my sweatshirt because I went down to the barn right after yoga. I was still dressed in my workout clothes and I’d taken pictures at the studio that day for the newsletter, but no one was around to take a shot, so I tried holding the camera out and taking a few pictures myself, just as my kids do for their my-space all the time. Man-o-man, that isn’t as easy as it looks. I must have taken 15 shots, and totally missed my face (or the animal’s) every time – you’d see a great shot of my ear and the horse’s nostril, or the top of my head (gee, my hair is getting gray in spots). But I managed to snag a few half frame pictures. Mind you, this was after I spent two hours giving them a bath. . . and after a sweaty yoga class . . . and . . . well, if I was smart, I’d put on some make-up and a cute outfit and go back down and reshoot this to pretend I’m far more attractive on an average day than I am. But I figure the donkey and/or horse is going to steal the show in a shot like this anyway, so why not go au natural. Can’t hide the fact that I’m 50 and have my share of laugh-lines to prove it, or the fact taht I’m inclined to get down and dirty about any chance I get. So here I am, dirty, tired, but happy with with my boyfriends . . . they are not animals to me, but symbols of a lifestyle, a dream and the kind of joy a girl really can count on to remind her that the best things in life are simple (and often covered in fur). What they have given me can’t be described with words.
(And if you wonder why all my pictures are so huge – it’s because I can’t figure out how to change the pixels on this new Mac mark set up for me, so the only way I can post a picture is to take it as it comes. . . and believe me, I wish I had options. I ‘d look better (and less wrinkly) if the dang picture was smaller. It’s like putting a magnifying glass and a harsh light on your face and sticking it right into the face of someone talking to you. Boy, the ego beating that comes with being techno-illiterate.)