It was oh-four-thirty, sparrow fart, when Mom tumbled out of bed, made sandwiches and toodled out to the horse trailer to fill the camping fridge with victuals for the rider.
Young master Czar has a special friend, our friend Dodie’s cute little grey mare, to keep him company. Steel will be ridden by Dodie’s friend who will join the group tomorrow. That means Firstborn will be minding two feisty Arabians until Friday. Good luck with that.
Meantime Mr Bob is sulking in the shed, in a sunbeam, ears back. Not happy. He’s wondering how Czar rates an adorable grey mare and he doesn’t (he is quite fond of them).
Mom’s going to try to spend time with the Bobster – not that he gives a flying you-know-what about moi. By tomorrow, when he realizes it’s me feeding him, things will change.
Meantime, I shall mount up Deere John and get cracking on the mowing.
GO TEAM CZAR!
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About Nya Rawlyns
Crossing boundaries, taking no prisoners. Write what’s in your soul. It’s the bass beat, the heartbeat, the lyrics rude and true. Nya Rawlyns is the pseudonym of a writer who cut her teeth on sports-themed romantic comedy and historical romances before finding her true calling in the wilderness areas she has visited but calls “home” in that place that counts the most: the heart. She has lived in the country and on a sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, earned more than 1000 miles in competitive trail and endurance racing, taught Political Science to unwilling freshmen, and found an avocation in materials science. When she isn’t tending to her garden or the horses, the cats, or two pervert parakeets, she can be found day dreaming and listening to the voices in her head.
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