Summer at the Barn

Wranglers

Mud-caked boots, wood-chip socks, a red baseball cap over frizzy hair. The

cat in the corner, cracked wheel barrels in the other one. Musty, but bright. Fly spray and

wood and hay and that peculiar, sweet fur smell. Stomping and clomping, waterproof

boots and brand-new shoes- the Ferrier just left.

Assembly line assembles; Mr. Ryan, Hannah, Claire, Jessie.

Curry comb, hard brush, soft brush. Circular motion works best, and getting

under the belly, around the knees, but

gentle around there, too.

Move fast, the kids are coming! Keep working till they come.

Sweat gathering- the sunshine is rising up strong from behind the Smokies, and

the valley feels it.

Pepper, Triumph, Bob. They feel it too. Pick the hooves, get the

bits of dirt and grass from stubborn feet. Heave and grunt under the

saddle’s weight; ignore those aching shoulders. Leave room between the

nape of the neck and saddle pad.

Tight, but not too tight. Adjust stirrups, wipe off dust, feel for

dirt underneath. Fly spray, lead them to the hitching post, don’t forget the slipknots, don’t let

Tazz beside Rocky- they’ll fight. Turn your radio on and wait for the

day to begin- sweep the floor, muck the catch pen, fly spray yourself, sunscreen, feed the cat.

Hurry now, the kids are coming!