The barn where I keep my horse is not fancy. Like really not fancy. To a fault. And I love it for that. The lady who runs it is a no nonsense, knows her stuff, take no crap kinda lady and I can respect that.

She’s the sort of person I surround myself with these days. She went to William Woods which is like an Ivy for equestrian study. She pulls no punches. She is a learned professional and a noted voice in her industry. Which is why the state of her barn is hysterical.

As I do my patterns I’m often avoiding feral pigs that dart through trying to get away from the 8lb chihuahua mix that rules the land when he’s there. Occasionally a baby lamb will get away from one of its handlers (a child there for lessons) and wander in. Or the new ‘puppy’ great danes that are almost as big as ponies will lope in confused and then get scared of the horses and make chaos. Not to mention during the rainy season (like now) the barn and arena stays in a state of flooded swampland.

I guess if I was the sort, some, if not all, of this would bother me. But I’m not the sort. I think it’s hysterical, a circle of life kind of madness. And really if you can’t do your pattern while avoiding feral pigs, pony puppies and an 8lb greaser then are you really a winner at all?

Sometimes other barns will hold local competitions and we’ll attend them. These barns have AC, viewing rooms and toilets you can flush. But in my opinion, they lack soul. They’re nice for sure. You won’t lose a galosh down in the muck. Or have chickens roosting on the back of your horse. Or have a mama pig tear down the middle of the barn trying to avoid capture as you try to walk out.

I guess what I’m saying is it wouldn’t be as much fun.

Published by miasotowrites

Wannabe Writer Tired Mother Aspiring Slacker

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