This morning was beautiful, despite the call for more thunderstorms this afternoon. So, since everyone had had a week off, essentially, we hacked. Swing took Brown jogging around Montpelier in the morning, while we waited for the woods to dry out a bit. Then J3 and I took Gator and Jeff for a run up the “mountain.” I know what you are thinking. I said the same thing when I moved down here from New Hampshire, “Mountain? Where I come from, honey, I’m not sure that little bump even qualifies as a hill.” But I’ve been back in the south for 14 years now, and in the local parlance, any sort of incline that takes more than five minutes to summit is officially a mountain. It does follow, quite logically I think, that the skiing stinks.
Red puttered in the ring for a bit as she didn’t have a buddy to go out. Now I’ve got to go drag the diet paddock so I can put the fat, little pony back in there. I’m sure once she realizes that her turn out in the big field was only a temporary reprieve I’m going to have quite the time catching her. She may be fat, but she’s still faster than this old girl. Well, so is a 3-legged, blind dog, but that’s another story.