It seems that Mother Nature does not like to be predictable because it started late Thursday morning and we were hammered with snow. Normally I would leave work early to avoid the worst but it was my last day before my 'use it or lose it' vacation and I had a ton of work to do. I ended up working a bit later then planned.
|not fun. Winter can piss right off|
Upon heading entering the barn I was greeted with grumpy horses and stalls that looked like I hadn't picked them out in a week (honestly I had done them in the morning).
Irish: Thank heavens you're home. This is an OUTRAGE. I've been in my stall all afternoon. I am a TB, I need my FREEDOM.
Me: Actually you are half QH. Plus all he did was shut the door- you were already hiding in your stall.
Carmen: And I'm starving. I can see the hay but there's NONE in my stall. Call the SPCA.
d'Arcy: you need to let the horses out so I can help you bring them in.
Me: I'm pretty sure that you had hay. You ate it all.
Irish: Don't you dare deny me my heritage. I identify as all TB thank you very much. Plus you are missing the point- the male servant took my choice away. It's fine if I decide to stay in. It's totally not cool for him to make the decision for me.
Carmen: Not one stalk of hay was given to me. You can see for yourself.
d'Arcy: that's my job after all.
Irish: Carmen! Stay on topic- it's about us being prisoners, not you turning yourself into a hippo.
Carmen: HOW DARE YOU! I am Rubenesque not some scrawny thing.
Me: Okay okay you two. Knock it off. Carmen, I will get you more hay. Irish you are in until morning.
I brought Carmen out into the aisle and parked a wheelbarrow of hay in front of her while I cleaned her stall.
d'Arcy: yes, put her out. You can't bring them in without me. It's a rule.
Carmen: this is more like it. *nom nom nom* You should put this in my stall not that horrible hay net contraption.
Irish: Morning? Morning? Good lord woman have you lost your mind? I want to go OUTSIDE. This is UNACCEPTABLE.
Me: Not gonna happen sunshine. It's still snowing and blowing out there.
|my woods after the storm|
Guinness: Look I found this stick. Isn't it awesome? Doesn't it just make you want to throw it again and again and again?
Irish: No, she's lallygagging in the stall and playing with that dog.
|someone loves the snow anyway|
Carmen: Wait, bring that hay buffet in here! I liked it.
I bring Irish out and park him by the wheelbarrow. He immediately knocks hay out of it and onto the floor where he picks through it like a food critic who found a hair in his creme brûlée.
d'Arcy: ok, leave the grey one in but bring out the brown one. I'm ready to help you.
Irish: don't you have anything better? I'm really not sure of the quality of hay this year. It's lacking the fresh green flavour that I love.
Me: Well there's nothing I can do about that- the grass will come in on it's own schedule.
Irish: Excuses. You're not trying that's what I think. I want to go back in my stall.
Me: Not yet I'm not done yet.
Irish: It really is awful the way you keep taking away my freedom of choice. I'm going to lodge a formal complaint.
Guinness: Stick stick stick. THROW THE STICK. Pleeeaaassse.
Me: Who with?
Irish: I haven't figured that out yet. But when I do you'll be in big trouble missy.
|at least I got to snowshoe today.|
Me: There, all clean. Okay Irish you can go back in your stall.
Irish: good thing- I was just going to get feisty.
Me: heaven forbid.
I got their dinner ready and they both seemed much happier. I then headed into the house to make dinner for Ed. It was his birthday and our rule is that you don't need to cook on your birthday. I had picked up some samosas and pakoras on the way home (best time to go to the grocery store is during a storm) and made a red curry.
This morning I strapped on my snowshoes to take Guinness for a walk (d'Arcy can't handle the snow anymore).
|Guinness showing off how much faster he is in the snow|
|The woods were like a cathedral. I am always so grateful|
for this small patch of forest that I own.