Barns and horses...

A break in the storm took us out on the trails today, and the rain held off until the last hundred feet before we reached the truck. And then it let loose. Still, I took a chance and got a little wet, to snap a few pictures of this beautiful Gothic barn, built of cinder blocks, with fresh paint and a metal roof.

And as we drove into town for breakfast at our favorite little diner, I thought about barns and rain, and being a horse owner. Some of my happiest times were spent in a barn, taking care of my Thoroughbred gelding, who would stand in the barn aisle and nod off to the sound of rain drumming on the roof.

A barn is a cozy place to be on a rainy day. I never minded cleaning stalls or moving bales of hay, sweeping the aisle or filling water buckets. On sunny days, I'd be itching to saddle up and go for a ride on the trails, or head up the road to the ring where I had my lessons.

But on rainy days, I'd linger. Read all the messages on the chalkboard, about who was going out of town, and which horses needed someone to exercise them. Straighten up the tack room. And on my week to feed, stuff hay into hay nets for each stall, and measure out grain and supplements for each horse. I'd check that the hanging blankets had dried overnight, and lay them out ready for the next day. Once the horses were in their stalls at the end of the day, I'd clean my stall, listening to the horses munch their hay, lick the last few grains of oats out of their feeders, and drink deeply from their water buckets.

I'd breathe deep, and inhale the wonderful, special aroma of horses.