Hey, you know me by now — snippets of more or less thoughtful blither in the comments, and the occasional pointless diary. Here’s another one for ya, this time about spring and ponypix:
It seems a bit odd to be burbling on about spring fever, after a winter so lacking in wintriness. Ever since the shocker snowstorm of October, we’ve been devoid of the white stuff here in coastal Massachusetts north of Boston. We finally had some pathetic few inches of the stuff last week, but even that got mostly rained away on the tail end of the storm. Shriveled scraps of dirty whiteness linger here and there in sheltered spots, but with temperatures climbing toward 60 in the next day or two, they’re not long for this world.
And speaking of temperatures — what’s left to say? Unseasonably warm to barely chilly, a spot of real cold now and then, but mostly so mild that outdoor horse chores have been far from the usual frigid misery of our typical January and February. It’s hard to get excited about SPRING!!!! when the winter’s barely noticeable.
Well, it’s hard for me. For the horses, however….
The horses know. The horses feel the sap of SPRING!! rushing through their great bodies to their brains. The itch of spring burrows into their plush winter coats. Itch… must shed… itch… must shed… ITCH… MUST ROLL!
And when they rise from an orgy of rolling in all that lovely glutinous mud? Then what?
Then it’s party time!
Ben goes for the fat flabby Thoroughbred version of airs above the ground.
He and his little buddy Commander advance to the pas de deux.
Allemande left and away we go!
Ungroomed, shaggy, mud-caked — and magnificent in their gleeful glory.
A quick break for a quick drink (and yes, Ben is licking Commander’s butt)….
Then Ben gets the good times rolling again.
Faces of happy spring fever horses — Commander:
And Ben:
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