Dear Mother Nature,
Well, dearest mother, as I type this post, you have decided to huff and puff and shut the mid-Atlantic down. Seriously, what is up with the crazy wind? Gusts around 70 mph are wrecking havoc with my attempts to get Ike and myself back into shape for show season. When I should be riding, I am instead lashing the corner of the fence together with an extension cord to keep the dogs from escaping. And with all the downed trees, all my normal barn routes were blocked. Even if I had managed to get to the barn, it would have been foolhardy to throw my leg over my horse. High profile “vehicles” don’t fare well in high winds.
If I really think about it, you have had a bee in your bonnet this entire winter season. What gives? That brutal cold spell in late December and early January turned our ring into concrete and my fingers into blue icicles. You try soaking a hoof and wrapping it when your fingers won’t function. Who wants to be outdoors when you have to dress like the StaPuff Marshmallow Man to stay warm and stuff your gloves and boots with Hot Hands? You are warm but unable to move normally. Do you secretly laugh at us as we struggle? Imagine I am staring at you with resting bitch face. No, I am not joking.
You were kind to us as far as snow amounts. For that I am grateful. You did manage to stick it to me with that mid-December event that was just enough to make me question my decision to enter a schooling show. Could you please provide me your mailing address? Look for my reimbursement request in the coming weeks.
And lest we not forget the never-ending days of rain. Yes, I am aware of our rain deficit but enough is enough. Mud season is not supposed to start until April. You recall that catchy phrase, “April showers bring May flowers.” Hello! It is only the second day of March. Please check your calendar. All that rain has probably contributed to the tree issues we are having because of the wind. The paddocks look like pig wallows. Try as I might, my horse is never clean. There are always mud clumps that I miss until I am astride. Thank goodness no one but Ms. C ever sees our decrepit grooming skills.
So, what is it going to take to get you to calm down? You have already demonstrated your mad skills for causing chaos. If I promise to plant a tree, will you take a nap? Please let me know what sacrifice you command…you already got my original Charles Owen helmet and I refuse to give you my new one, so just get that notion out of your thoughts.
Here’s to a more pleasant spring season.