|"You talkin' to ME?"|
As the snowdrops blossom in my mostly-frozen, weed-encrusted perennial garden, so does a drop of hope trickle in my heart, that this cold weather will end, and having horses will be something more than chiseling frozen piles of manure, juggling rock-hard poo balls on brittle tines, warming fingers in mares’ butt cheeks, inspecting horse bodies under heavy blankets and going through hundreds of dollars worth of Toasti Toes.
Although I’m feeling as beaten down as all Twin Tiers horse owners who don’t have easy access to an indoor, that little drop of hope made its way to my brain and fingers recently and resulted in this:
|Confirmation of Starlight's USEA registration|
|The wound is a still couple weeks out from fully healed.|
Hope, like snowdrops, springs anew with the longer daylight, so I have to believe I can.