Cold and crunchy the ground pops as the horses greet me at the fence which is draped with icicles all along the plank line. Bay, chestnut and gray horses warm and toasty under their turnout rugs step through the icy path to their feed buckets. Their breath puffs of frosty mist reminds me of a group of musk oxen with a cloud of steam hovering over their heads. They’re happy munching their candy and blue grass hay but they’re alert to my rattling bucket and the sush of grain hitting the pans hung on the fence. Pricking their ears and pawing on the ground they signal expectation of their first grain feeding of the day. They dig into the morsels enjoying their grain while pausing to look around for anything amiss in their horse domain.
I wait and watch too while I stand in a broken field of ice and snow, safe for the moment from slipping . I notice the dark green orbs of Mistletoe hanging overhead in the walnut trees lining the lane next to the horse pasture. It’s there year round but significant this morning while I think of the Christmas holiday before us. I reach out and give each horse a kiss on their nose as I wrap an arm around their horsey smell. I glance up to the Horse Mistletoe above our heads thankful for my time with these wonderful creatures.