When I was a 14-year-old girl, I had a mad crush on our farrier. I was painfully shy, and he took the time to talk to me, even helped me and my quarterhorse get ready for our first horse show. I don't remember him being terribly handsome. I do remember him being terribly kind. I remember being angry with his pretty young wife for running off with some cowboy and leaving him brokenhearted and behind. I even held out some far flung hope that I'd catch up with him somehow and he'd see me in a different light, instead of as the awkward, gangly girl in overalls I knew I was.

Our nice young farrier will be here in an hour to put pretty Spring shoes on the horses. The last time M. was here, I presented him with a pink wrapped package for his new baby girl, he and his wife's first child. I had so much fun picking out the Navajo baby rattle and beaded baby moccasins. Haven't done any baby shopping in a long while.

We talk about politics usually. Taxes. Our tractor quest. The high price of gasoline.

Boy, how time flies. Better get down to the barn.

Flickr photo: jscglascow