So, a pony walks into a bar…
For those who have been following these ramblings for a while, guessing Farm Girl’s number one wish is a bit of a gimmee.
Proof that she is not quiet about her desire to own her very own equine arrived last Sunday in the middle of a torrential downpour and, no, we’ve not gone and invested in some Homestead Horseflesh. Not yet, anyway. Instead, Horse-riding Instructor Clare, a lady who strongly believes the best way to gauge the intensity of the dream is to have one in your back paddock for a while, followed through on her
threat *ahem theory and Stitch has now been issued with his Union Homestead Visitor Visa.
The rest of us Homesteaders had little doubt that Farm Girl would rise to the challenge; this has now moved way past the whole “horsey phase” into a full-on passion and she’s not one to shy at a fence, so to speak. No, our doubts had more to do with the rest of us dealing with an animal brand we’d previously had nothing to do with save standing a respectful distance away observing her in-all-weather lessons.
We needn’t have worried; our input is definitely surplus to requirement, limited to chucking a slice of hay at him on evenings his minder is otherwise engaged.
He tolerates us; he adores Farm Girl. As for the Homestead equestrian, never have studies been so rapidly and accurately undertaken in order to free up I’m-just-popping-out-to-insert horsey term-Stitch time. That pony has a coat worthy of a pantene ad, you can’t find a carrot or apple for love nor money, and the two of them have surely jog/trot/cantered the equivalent of a marathon or two together.
Proving Clare’s theory absolutely, 100% correct. And, just quietly, hearing his voice added to the Morning Feeding Melee gives us all a warm glow…but not warm enough to splash out on a family set of matching jodhpurs anytime soon. The world’s just not ready for that.