Second blast of summer

I wouldn't have believed it this morning, as I stepped out into a typically brusque autumn morning. I could see my breath, I had to scrape condensation off the windows of my car, and felt that familiar "Brr! Winter's coming" vibe.

I wore liner gloves under my yard gloves because my finger tips were numb (nothing like trying to wrangle a metal handled pitchfork that has been outside all night when your hands are already cold - oww!). Even mucking out boxes in quick succession didn't do much to warm me up. Nor did I welcome a bold rat who came into one of the boxes and sat on the straw to watch me. Well covered he was, and looked quite comfy until I squealed at him! "Argh! Out! Go!"

I unzipped my fleece, but didn't remove it. I took off the liner gloves once I could feel my fingers again, but still felt the chill in my hands.

There was steam rising off the muck heap, and the neds were alert and perky. Got delayed by beautiful bay mare, same age as Max, whom I've dubbed my "time waster". She very prettily sticks her head out of her box, blinks her big brown eyes at me and beckons me over to her, as she sets her head up just so, to indicate that she'd really enjoy having her jaw scratched. She loves the attention, and I could stand there for ages chatting and scratching the points she she offers up, like a big pussy cat. She's such a tart!

Rushed off after giving Max his marmite toast and a big hug, because I knew work at the office was piling up and I needed to get on. As it turned out, it continued to pile up while I was there, and I stayed on doing overtime and then racing back to the yard well after my appointed meeting time with Max.

He'd been kept in, but he was not happy. Frantic little whuffles as I arrived and parked up.

"Hey! What time do you call this! No food in here and my water is covered with hay. I hate that! Help! Help! Neglected pony! Call the authorities.... Hey... ooh! Is it? Could it be...?"

I stuffed his gob with a small pear to cool his jets, and then led him out of his box into the bright, sunshine. It's hot! No sleeves could be wearing shorts, hot! Fly spray onto Max's ever so slightly, woolly just starting to come through winter coat, hot!

I was knackered from the office. Too long in that chair and my back was aching, too many hours frantically typing, so my hands were aching, too.

We just played. We stood in the sunshine, bantered and joked and played. I could curse myself for not doing something meaningful with him, taking him for a long walk, or riding him out on this perfect day (I hope tomorrow is perfect because I'd like to ride him when I'm less achey), but after a whirlwind of a week, and feeling quite stressed, it was really lovely to just hang out and do nothing much.

First I set him up with some hay and fresh water, which he set upon like he was starving. Not a bit of it, he's well looked after in my absence, but for Max, there does seem to be something special about what is provided specifically for him, specifically by my own fair hand.

I understand. No sandwich will ever be as good as the one my mum makes for me. It's a gift, the food offering made by somebody who loves you and thinks you're "all that". Always tastes better.

He drank deeply, smeared me with water drips, then chewed contentedly while I draped myself across his back, felt the warmth from him and all his contentedness, and the warmth from the sunshine beaming down on us, and let all the tension of the day ease out of me while I felt, listened to and breathed in the gorgeous scent of my Max. He is Mr Sense-o-Rama! If I could bottle that feeling and sell it, I'd be a squillionaire.

But it's kinda cool that it's just for me.