Sighhhhhhh

I have been doing so much writing at work over the last week that I feel like my head is going to explode! Or maybe I should say "implode." Anyway, that's why I haven't posted.

So Dude and Bestie got moved on Saturday. Went back to our previous barn, which I guess in the overall count of things would be barn #3. It's good in that it's a known quantity: familiar friendly faces, predictable schedule for the horses, nice facility. It's temporarily bad in that they're not getting turned out as we wait for the grass to grow. The saying "watching grass grow" has taken on new meaning! And it's bad in that I moved from there to save money, and am now back to being pretty well maxxed out on board costs.

So what happened with the barn we had just moved to? In March, a scant TWO MONTHS AGO? A barn at which the horses were pretty darn happy?

Well, after a month, the owner decided she didn't want to have a boarding barn anymore. She pretty much gave us two options: form a co-op or hire someone to do our work. And it seemed like she also expected us to resolve the situation one way or another in very short order.

That was asking the impossible, as we had hay and shavings to gather, our schedules and finances to review, not to mention the ins and outs of being responsible for some sort of self-directed care or hiring someone else. The latter was ruled out pretty quickly for financial reasons. We gave our best shot at attempting to set up a co-op. Lots of research was done, hay and shavings providers were identified, but it became clear pretty quickly that it would never work. Despite giving us a verbal go-ahead to set up another arrangement, roadblocks kept being thrown in front of us by the barn owner. Amongst the three of us who were boarding, the underlying sentiment was that we could drive ourselves crazy trying to make it work, yet there would always be SOMETHING. It was a no-win situation.

We scrambled trying to find other arrangements by May 1 and luckily all ended up in happy situations.

I'm just not sure what I learned from this whole incident. On the plus side, my horses were very happy, VERY happy, at that barn. Dude got a run-in stall his last two weeks there, and as I've written in previous posts, he loved going in and out, in and out. Bestie had the run-in during the day for one week, and also was happy. I got to know my two fellow boarders better than I did during our time together at barn #3; definitely a plus. I knew that I could trust them to check on my horses when I wasn't there and to throw a late night flake if anyone looked hungry. We looked out for one another. Other people crossed my path; I will always be grateful to the renters in the house (who left the weekend before we did) for their steadiness and reliability with morning feedings. I'm grateful for the opportunity to run around with both Dude and Bestie in the indoor and have fun. I'm grateful for being able to stand at the door of the barn and call to them and watch them trot toward me. And I did save some money for a couple months!

On the negative side, I almost feel like the old saying "if it seems too good to be true, it probably is" applies to this situation, but that seems like such a pessimistic downer approach to life that I just can't fully subscribe to it. It was a leap of faith that didn't work. It reminded me that people do make commitments that they don't fully think through, and don't take into consideration the effect of their decision on others. And that false assurances and apparent dishonesty can really complicate things.

So that's the last few weeks. Until the fields open up, I'm handgrazing Dude and Bestie. I felt terrible the first day when they seemed very perplexed and distraught by their move back. After all, the situation at the old barn was pretty changeable, so they've been asked to adapt to a lot over the last two months. New barn, cows, no turnout, some turnout, all day turnout, horses coming, horses going. On Sunday they seemed more settled. But I have to admit that I feel sad when I arrive and they're behind bars and can't have their heads hanging over their stall doors. I'll end this post where I began, with a sighhhhhhhhh.