Indian Summer

It's the first week in November.  I'm hanging laundry on the line, and the kids are outside in their shirtsleeves. 

Hello, Indian Summer.  

This has been a mild Fall here in Wisconsin, and I can't imagine that we'll see many more days that reach the 70s until next June so we are making the most of this week.  And Little Rancher is enjoying some sunny pasture-time with Misty. 

Beyond the chores

The Little Rancher has made it through her first winter.

Breaking ice, hauling buckets, pitching hay, shoveling manure, brushing, picking, none of it seemed to slow her down.  But now that Misty is on pasture and has access to an artesian spring, chores have taken on a new meaning.

Setting her alarm for 6:10am, the Little Rancher continues to go out.  One day I asked, "Are you still feeding hay in the morning?"  She replied, "Only if she needs it.  There's not much to do anymore, but I still go out just to talk to her."

Most mornings Misty comes running when the Little Rancher calls out.  It seems even horses appreciate a daily routine, and you never know when a pan full of grain might be waiting.  But one day she wasn't quite ready to wake up and stayed in the back pasture.  The Little Rancher wandered back and had a seat.  Sharing the warm Spring sun is the reward for those long, dark Winter mornings. 

The thrill hasn't worn off...

We're a solid three months into the whole inevitable horse situation, and I'm happy to say that the thrill hasn't worn off.  Hank, devoted as ever, continues to research proper training and handling techniques.  The Rancher is learning to use her voice and be more assertive. For Christmas, she received a lunging rope and whip.  Misty is spoiled and generally not in a mood to obey, but slowly the pair of them are learning to converse, just enough to where it feels like progress is being made.

The Inevitable

I knew it from the beginning.  I did.  I knew it by the steady stream of horse books coming home from the library.  I knew it by looking around my daughter's bedroom.  I knew it when I scanned the empty back pastures and the generous hay supply in the barn.  I knew it as my husband's stoic resolve crumbled month by month.  Heck, I even knew it while my son's eyes welled up into an allergic sneezing fit whenever he got within ten feet of a horse.  This day was destined to arrive at the Homestead.

We have a horse.  Her name is Misty.