Playing with Horses in the Rain

Well, I'm sure you surmised from the title... I finally got to see my horses again! Oh glorious, glorious day.

I went out to the barn yesterday. Saturday is my least favorite day to ride, because it gets crowded with little kids on school ponies and sleepy, underfed teenagers, and rich, spoiled brats on $80k warmbloods that they don't know how to ride. I mean, that's basically the only three types of people there ever are at Magnolia, but on Saturdays, it's a three-for-one sale at WalMart during Christmastime. You got your overpriced warmblood running loose on aisle four (no owner in sight), a group of six-year-olds hovering around the stall door on aisle six, not to mention Thirteen-Going-On-Thirty getting all flirty with the stablehand somewhere on aisle ten. Oh, and let's not forget the snarky, overworked trainer who is oh so ready to help out at the customer service desk.

So, no, I do not like to ride on Saturdays, but I was getting a little desperate here, so I figured I would take what I could get. Add to the mix the oppressive heat that settles like a blanket over the city this time of year, and you can just about imagine how my ride began.

Thankfully, God heard my mental pleas and sometime around noon the skies literally began to open up. One moment, the sky was blue, the heat was suffocating and the next--BAM. Black clouds, a steady shower of rain, and a blessed breath of cool air. Our April showers were a little bit delayed this year, but hey, better late than never.

The horses, who suffer in the heat (especially when the barn is crowded and everyone is pushed together), were visibly relieved by the cool breeze. Even the more skittish mares in the barn were more intoxicated than frightened by the dark rumblings and heavy air. Every horse stood at attention in front of the little windows in their stalls, drinking in the air and soaking up the few raindrops that strayed near their faces. Even the $8ok warmblood stopped his stroll to park it in front of the barn door. (And before you ask, yes, his owner really did just leave him, halter and all, standing in the middle of the barn before disappearing to God knows where. You always know when his owner is in because he'll be walking around the cross-ties and tack room looking utterly disinterested in the world. God forbid she actually, you know, tie up or put away her own horse when she is finished with it.)

Our belated April shower seemed to slow everything down and bring peace and quiet back to my little oasis. The hyperactive six-year-olds were drowned out by the sound of raindrops drumming the metal roof, and everyone besides the children (who are never calm) seemed to stop to soak up the thunderstorm like a breath of fresh air. And when the downpour finally slowed to a drizzle, the horses were more alert, more playful than they were before. It was just the refreshment they needed.

And I guess it was for me, too.