making peace with the mush

We are stuck in another wave of drizzly, warm for the season days. The muckiness of the ground bothers me on some deep level, probably because we have clay soil and it's slippery. I was aware yesterday that I was feeling frustrated with the unstable footing, and even more keenly aware that there is not one thing I can do about it. Except reframe my discomfort and figure out a new perspective.

I decided to focus on being cheerful and to walk slowly. I stopped wincing at the mush and tried to feel my feet sinking in, finding solid ground, and to experience it differently.

When I pushed the wheelbarrow full of hay out to the front field, I heard a loud and persistent bird call that I knew wasn't a song bird. It was the red-tail hawk, sitting on a low tree branch watching me, calling out over and over. This is the third sighting in a week or so. Each time I listen and although I'm not exactly sure what the bird is telling me, I continue to listen. Some things just sink in without having to know the words.

Back in the barn, the Big Bay had his own message. He begged me to allow him to be with Salina and the donkeys instead of the pony and Cody. Keil's front legs were muddy up to the knees, following a morning of rough play with the very pushy pony. I made the Bay promise he would not chase donkeys or Salina, as I didn't want anyone sliding down. He agreed.

So I opened the stall door and said "walk on." He sauntered down the barn aisle, completely content, checking out each stall, each empty feed tub, and then joined Salina and the donkeys by the round bale. It was covered, but I took the big blue tarp off and let them stand in a circle munching while I put the pony and Cody out in the back field with their own hay.

Then I led the Bay into the front field, went back for Salina, and of course Rafer followed. I stood by the gate and waited for Redford, reluctant to give up the round bale, but one, two, three, four, there he came skittering through the barn to find his herd.

Keil Bay kept his promise. All day long he walked quietly and gently around Salina and the donkeys. He carefully touched his nose to Redford's rump and even when Redford gave him a sharp kick, Keil simply stood still and watched Redford to see what might come next.

Three different times the donkeys ventured alone down the big hill. Salina looked up, not concerned but wanting to keep her eye on them. When they went all the way down, she couldn't. So Keil Bay walked very carefully down and in a big circle, gently herded them back up to Salina. It was so touching.

Late in the afternoon the neighbors across the lane wheeled out a big wagon of trash. White plastic flashed and rustled. Keil Bay went into high alert and trotted to the crest of the hill, ahead of Salina and the donkeys, to keep an eye on things. Cody and the pony trotted up from the back field to alert over the fence, rear guards. We've got your six, buddy. Even when separated, the herd members communicate and do their parts.

It was especially nice to see Salina relaxed and allowing the geldings to keep watch for her. She needed a break.

Today is another gray foggy day, although I can see through the windows evidence of clearing. Tomorrow I'm told it will be in the 70s, but windy. The gusting wind is not my favorite either, but perhaps the fact that it helps dry things out will make it more appealing.