It’s St. Patrick’s Day. In Some places the grass is green and the leaves are appearing on the trees. In some places. Not here. Here, everything is still snow covered. The snow is slowly sliding off our roofs, and we are still walking around in snow tunnels. But no green Spring is on its way though. Poop is surfacing in the horse pen although there are not yet any puddles.

Pete said that the optimistic thermometer (the one down by the horse enclosure) read 50˚ F. At 8:30 a.m. this morning; the pessimistic thermometer read 21˚ F. I think that I am going to refamiliarize myself with Celsius readings by paying closer attention to the readings on the optimistic and the pessimistic thermometers. There was, in the late 79s, renewed interest in going to Celsius readings, but few were interested. People get stuck in their ways. This was a good example of this.

I cleaned the goat pen today. The goat manure was not frozen, so it wasn’t as onerous a task as the last time.

I had no excuse. I did go riding. I first walked Tyra around the loop. Then Pete and I took Raudi and Hrimmi for a ride; he rode the former and I rode the latter. We went down to Ridge Runner Circle and back. Hrimmi was feeling really good and started out at a trot. The stirrups on her saddle were too long for me, so it was a bumpy ride. We readjusted them at the Murphy Road turn. Then all was fine.

We didn’t see any moose, but the horses did alert on them, so they must have smelled them. We didn’t see any snowmobiles, but I alerted on the sound of them. We did see a few cars.

I just finished reading a book that’s from a series entitled The Horse Diaries – the series are first horse accounts by various breed representatives. This book was narrated by a Connemara mare named Darcy, the setting is Ireland, the years the story took place are from 1917-1927. Darcy’s story was far better than Elska’s story, but let’s blame this on the human writers.

The book did keep my attention. In the first few chapters, Darcy’s pasture mate falls over a cliff and dies. This created a very somber tone. And I found myself thinking – did this really need to happen? Maybe I was reminded of Siggy.

I kept reading because this was an instance in which I figured things could get no worse. And they didn’t. Darcy ended up with an Irish family and was used for numerous jobs including hauling seaweed from the ocean back to the potato fields. She ended up living into her 20s, and had several foals, none of whom she was allowed to keep.

I suppose this account was meant to be true to life, but lately all I want is happy, happy, happy. I need my spirits buoyed these days, not dragged down.

Next: 76. 3/18/24: Treading Water