I’m sitting outside the barn on this cool September morning, listening to the birds sing, the traffic hum, the tractors rolling by on the racetrack. The grooms next door are still busy cleaning up from their day; I’m long done, drinking lukewarm coffee.
It’s still dead around here after eleven a.m., but the trailers are starting to pull up as the day wears on, and the horses are starting to return from Saratoga. I wonder if they’re disappointed when they get back. I wonder if they miss the views from the open shedrows of Saratoga. I bet they don’t know how cold it gets in upstate New York. They’ll be glad for our closed doors and four walls come winter.
I sat and looked at the winter riding gear in a Dover Saddlery catalog earlier. I really don’t have any. I’m not scared – yet. I remember riding in the snow as a teenager. I remember getting so hot I’d be in short-sleeves with snow on the ground. I am dreading cold feet, though. Cold feet are the worst. Getting off a horse onto hard ground with cold feet – oh man. Oh no.
Sitting in the sun, taking off my jacket, I’m sure winter’s far away yet…
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