Horse Barn
Working on the horse farm has to be the most memorable part of my life. Surrounded by fresh air, wide-open space, and peaceful, natural sounds, I cherished every minute spent with the horses. The hot, humid summers were always the laziest parts of life on the farm.
Rising early in the damp morning, I tried to get outside and start my daily chores before the inevitable heat struck the air. Breathing the crisp, morning air, winding through the maze of wagging tails and drooling mouths toward the sliding barn door, passed through a sense of importance in my life. At the gates, anxious to get their breakfast after a long, cool night in the fields, the impatient horses pawed and neighed, telling me to hurry my step. The beautiful, bay quarter horse, Impressive, was always at the head of the pack. King of the group, he was also the trusty, old horse that I knew and loved.
Unlatching the gate, I allow Impressive to walk through on his own accord and trot off to his stall, awaiting the grain and hay he knows will soon come. The rest of the pack is brought in one by one and placed safely into their spacious, clean and, for the meantime, cool stalls. Perfect, Taffy, Special, Max, Arbitrator, Melvin, Rupert, and more, all having their own turn, all knowing their place in the well-established pecking order.
Feeding time is always filled with commotion and seemingly unending, impatient screams. The average outsider would have guessed that the fat, robust horses hadn't been fed in weeks. Slowly, the ruckus inside the old horse barn quiets and the only sounds are the slurping of water in between the low rumble of the horses munching their