winter

Today was one of those very cold, quiet mornings that seemed almost holy. The horses walked slowly up the hill and I realized their steps were tentative because the ground was frozen hard beneath their hooves, especially odd, I imagine, after these weeks of mucky earth that gave way up to their fetlocks in some places.

I fed breakfast and removed blankets amid soft snorts and the quiet crunch of feed, and then went out to open the back field, throw hay, and check water tubs.



Evidence of winter. The sheet in the back field's trough was solid and broke into a perfect puzzle.

The trough in the paddock had already been broken early this morning, and the puzzle pieces were still intact, pieces of green pressed beneath like specimens under glass.



I sat out and watched for a bit as the horses methodically stopped by the trough, drank, and then found the hay piles. Mid-morning in winter and all is just fine in this little corner of the world.