Tiredness and sweetness.

I have officially hit the wall of exhaustion. Boof, bash, whack, bam I go, as I barrel into it. Whoomph, I exclaim, as I fall, rueful, to the floor.

I have got into a bad habit of having slightly less sleep than I need, over a sustained period. As I motor into middle age, I see sleeping as wasted time, even though I know it is essential. I want to be up and thinking. I want to cram vast amounts into too little time. Eventually, the repo men come banging on my door, and I have to pay up on my sleep debt.

I slept through THREE alarms this morning. My mother even had to send a little email to make sure I was not dead in a ditch. (This is her, and my, default assumption.) In the end, I shuffled down to the horses, shamefully late.

I was really not going to talk about my mare today. Not after putting you through yesterday’s endless declaration. But she is clearly on a one-woman mission to bring adorableness to hitherto unperceived levels. When I arrived, she was fast asleep in the snow. She was lying down, eyes shut, her velvet muzzle resting delicately on the whiteness. She had clearly drafted in her two deputies, and they were on watch, either side of her, like sentries. It was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

I walked over very quietly, and sat down beside her, cross-legged. She opened one drowsy eye, put her head in my lap, and fell back to dozing. We sat there for twenty minutes, breathing gently in time. It was beyond words.

As I mooch around the Facebook, I see a lot of pictures of people doing things with their horses that I think I shall never be able to do. Sometimes this fills me with regret. Then I think: no matter. Red and I are not perfect, but we’ve got a little thing going. It’s touching and true; it won’t win prizes, but it’s enough for me. One of the things I thought would probably never happen was this kind of physical closeness. I see people lying with their horses and think that won’t be me. She is a thoroughbred after all; she is the lead mare; she is active and filled with high blood. But today IT WAS ME. I felt like dancing.

As I sat there, I thought of the people out in the world, who are living important lives. They are making money and getting awards and oh, I don’t know, doing lauded, vital things. This was just one flaky woman and a sleeping horse, in a snowy field. But it felt as vivid and profound and brilliant as if I had Stockholm on the telephone.

 

Today’s pictures:

After days and days of freezing dreich, the sun came out, and the temperature rose, and there was gentleness and spring in the air:

I was so excited by the sight of actual green grass, I took a picture of it. Even though this is not the most aesthetically pleasing shot in the world, I had to include it. GREEN GRASS:

And this is my first sight of the herd. Look at those serious sentries, protecting their Dear Leader:

I’m sorry, but really. Did you ever see anything more sweet?:

Autumn the Filly was looking very pretty in the sun:

Myfanwy the Pony is taking furriness to new heights. Her coat is so soft and fluffy that the Horse Talker and I are quite convinced that grooming elves come and brush her in the night:

Autumn, relieved of duty, dozing in the warmth:

And my lovely Red, having got to her feet, has another forty winks:

Stanley the Dog, however, is On Patrol:

No rest for him. This is his ‘Look, Ma, I’m racing about like a crazy horse’ face:

Although after a rather exciting day, he is now flaked out beside me.

Completely forgot to take the hill. It shall return tomorrow.

Too shattered to do a copy edit. Can only hope that there are not too many howlers. I rely on your kind Friday forgiveness.

Oh, and meant to say: there have been a lot of very lovely comments lately. I try to reply, but then run out of time. So I just wanted to send out a big collective thank you to the Dear Readers. You are being very, very dear indeed.