It’s 6am mornings, dawn barely breaking,  40 degrees and wind howling, bucking bales while they whinny for their breakfast.

It’s pulling a wagon through three inches of mud and slop, slipping and sliding while your hair swirls around your face.

It’s worrying until 11pm, then finally caving and heading out into the freezing drizzle to blanket.

It’s picking hay out of your pockets and horse treats out of washing machine and dirt out of…well, everywhere.

It’s having them raise a hoof to you and yelling, “Oh, I’ll GIVE you a reason to raise a hoof at me if you don’t put that down this minute!” Read more…