The Rain Fell, and the Winds Blew

This is really yesterday's post posted today. The very post that Olivia wrote forgetting yesterday was Monday. So when she says "tonight" she really means "last night". She's just too lazy to edit. Shameful, really. And don't ask why she's writing this paragraph in third person, because she didn't even realize she was doing it until this sentence.


I’m really not quite sure why I said I would post every day. I’m really not quite sure why I started a blog. I’m really not quite sure why you readers put up with all this rambling nonsense, but I’m glad that you do, even though it’s a slightly horrifying thought that there are actually people out there reading this.

But not as horrifying as the fact I just saw a flea on my arm and now I can’t find it. The flea, that is. I’m fairly certain of my arm’s location.

Now everything that touches my skin feels like a flea. It’s really annoying to be paranoid.

Tonight there was a large storm. One audible roll of thunder rumbled before it was right on top of us. Father Dearest went out to feed the horses, or at least move my pony--who is terrified of thunderstorms--to her own safe little paddock, but by the time he got out there it was pouring. I was going to follow, but Mother Dearest urged me to stay indoors because the lightning was close.

The pony wouldn’t go, though. She wears a flymask during the warm months to keep the flies from her face because she’s sensitive to the bacteria they leave behind, and her eyes swell when she doesn’t have it on. The downside to this, though, is that when it rains the water drops cling to the mesh and obscure her vision. I don’t think this is so much a problem for most horses, but she’s a rescue and very spooky, and she doesn’t appear to see well anyway.

So when Father opened the gate to the paddock and tried to coax her in, she ran away, frightened and unable to see. It was pouring like a celestial hose was set to powerwash*—from the window all you could see was an opaque sheet of water—and the lightning was very near. Eventually he had to come in and leave the pony trembling in the woods. By the time he came in, the wind blew the rain nearly horizontally, the thunder was deafening, and we huddled near the front of the house, afraid a large branch would come crashing onto the roof.

In ten minutes, it was over.

Once the thunder faded in the distance, we went outside to finish feeding. Usually after a big storm, especially if her flymask was on, the pony’s kind of traumatized. Sometimes she won’t let me near enough to remove her mask until the next day. But tonight she was perfectly calm. She walked right into the paddock, and as I approached her with a handful of grain she did a few of her tricks**, giving me a kiss and spontaneously nodding yes to some unasked question. And she let me remove her flymask without a problem. Go figure.

*That is a really laughable simile, but I’m too tired to care or think of a better one, so oh well!

**She knows all sorts of tricks, from swishing her tail on command to dancing the hokey pokey.