The goats were first up. As usual, Cowboy and Thistle were more interested in playing than in eating. Thistle seems to believe I want to play dancing-on-your-hind-legs games, maybe because I am already standing on two legs. While I tried to convince him otherwise, Cowboy lost interest in playing and headed off to the hay feeder.
I missed the Sunday Stills challenge for yesterday which was to take a picture of a "big sky" with the sky taking up 2/3 of the shot. The sun was peeking over the eastern ridge and ricocheting light off the western ridge. I so love the light at this time of the morning. I tried for a Sunday Stills shot of the western ridge.
Tuffy was in fine form. Come to think of it, he's been in fine form two days in a row. Yesterday morning, he was carrying the red, halfway inflated, jolly ball in his mouth. Finessa wouldn't play with him so he was thwacking her on the face with it. She gave him a disdainful look and walked off. He followed, jolly ball still in his mouth, thwacking her body as they went. This morning, I watched Mufasa chase him around the pasture. They stopped and Tuffy circled Mufasa. He tried to head butt Mufasa which was difficult given the difference in size. Mufasa stood there, laughing at Tuffy's pathetic macho antics, and then chased him around the pasture again.
When I brought the hay cart into the pasture, Tuffy and Finessa were on my heels. The second I stopped the cart, they dug in; not waiting for me to toss the flakes of hay into the bins.
Meanwhile, Flash was squealing in his turnout and biting Winston on the butt over the pipe corral divider. All the horses trotted down to their morning hay lickity split. Finessa dug in, sharing with the ever benevolent Mufasa.
The electricians arrived, met the dogs who danced around them in ecstatic welcome, and got to work. They arrived early, around 7:30, and then muttered about how cold it was in the barn. Silly boys, the mornings are always cold up here in the mountains. They got the job done and were on their way by 8:30; headed down the mountain to the warmth of the desert floor.
Later in the morning, I rode Winston. I groomed him and then practiced my braiding some more. He was very good while I stood on a stool next to him and tried to braid his mane. The braid I did the other day was pathetic. Today, I nailed it. Winston seemed to enjoy it as well. I know I loved it when my kids were young and would brush my hair -- and style it into something ...unique. That brushing part sure felt good. I think Winston agreed and was willing to tolerate braids for the bliss of brushing.
We worked on his canter fitness and my canter seat, some leg yield, and keeping a regular tempo at both trot and canter. One of the things the judge noted on my test sheet at the show was that our tempo was not even. Winston seemed too much in charge, slowing down and speeding up. Winston worked hard for me today and he worked honestly, trying to get it right. When we finished, I hosed him off with warm (yippy!) water since he was sweaty. As soon as I turned him back out in the pasture he rolled. And rolled. And rolled. It was warm, in the low 60s, and he was itchy.
I tried one last Sunday Stills shot as I headed up to the house for lunch.
One last housekeeping item. I have a handful of new followers which is wonderful. Welcome! I like to visit my followers, if they blog, and get to know them better. The past month or so I haven't been able to find blogs to visit. So, if you are a new-ish follower and you blog, please leave me a link to your blog in the comments so I can come visit. Thanks!