Or, as I like to think of it, St Perfidia's Day. You see, the Arab mare I had as a kid, C.V. Perfidia ("Toad"), was born on March 17. We tended to celebrate with carrot cake cupcakes with those green shamrock sugar decorations on them. As a result, I always think of her on St Patrick's Day.
It's an unusually warm day for March, today. By about half past nine this morning, I was down to my sleeveless t-shirt as Diane and I mucked stalls. It was warm (the thermometer in the barn was just hitting 70 at about ten) and humid. I'd had my hair up in a ponytail to start with but the ends were curling around and sticking to my arm, so I had to re-think my strategy and braid it instead to keep it out of my way.
It's sort of vaguely threatening rain. The wind is pretty strong & it's been blowing in clouds, pushing them past us to the north, all day. I pulled Rocky out to groom & play with him for a bit this morning, trying to get some actual interaction with a horse in before the skies really did open up (still hasn't, of course). I just took him out to the north paddock to ride a little bareback & reintroduce the concept of work.
Peevish ears.
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