No cure for love

At least not for our neighboring horses, Gentle Reader.  There’s a sweet, unicorn/acts like a blonde horse and a handsome, intelligent, burnished gelding living in the corrals next to us.  AS happens every year, Ms. Blonde has gone into her annual hormonal frenzy.  This has led to the separation of her and Mr. Gelding into separate but adjacent corrals.

So.  We now have a 24 hour a day stereophonic, not to say eardrum piercing, score of hoarse neighs, bellows, desperate whinnies, and pounding hooves.  It’s awful, really, but at the same time interesting because once again we see that really? we are all the same. I think it would be hard to find anyone who hasn’t experienced this specialness for themselves.   Fortunately for all of us, Ms. Unicorn’s season is not forever ongoing so it is to be hoped that some sort of normal will be restored.  Soon.  No more long, neck twisted around backwards burning gazes through the trees and no more desolate cries at 3 am.  No more furious looks at ME when there isn’t anything I, or anyone on the scene, can do.

Other than that? We continue with the quotidian practice of not freaking out over things.  Notice I said PRACTICE.  Talk about begin again, over and over.  Still, though.  It is clear that what you put your mind to strengthens in you.  At this point I may be the Obi Wan Kenobi of the daily snafu, but there it is.  Life, in all its majesty.


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