The pasture is dry right now.

Dry.

Dusty.

Hot.

And overrun with grasshoppers.

Did I mention dry?

Maybe I forgot to say dusty?

Yesterday, when we opened the gate to our two old sweeties, they were almost a different color, thanks to a fine coating of dust that covered them. Bud looked brownish, and Pepper was grey.

There’s not much in the way of green grass left – just a few sprouts here and there. The horses are hungry. Soon they’ll start to get hay twice a day, but for now, they’re scouring the land for anything at all they can nibble.

It confirms for me (yet again) that we are doing the right thing by making the trip to the pasture every day to give our horses their grain and medicine.

And the rest of their herd their snacks.

When we drive down the road to the gate, the truck kicks up a huge cloud of dust that sifts over the car and us once we get out.

I cough.

I sneeze.

And I complain.

The dust and dryness are getting to me.

I’m thirsty all the time, my eyes are burning and my allergies seem to be on high.

I realize that I grumble too much about something I have absolutely no control over.

Bud and Pepper say nothing.

I complain.

I think griping is human nature for many of us. But I also believe that what one chooses to focus on will expand. And is this what I want more of in my life?

Nope. Don’t think so.

So I am trying to reset my dial to abundance and gratitude.

Again.

Sheesh, trying to live a conscious life is an ongoing challenge.

I do remind myself that soon enough I will be bundled up in snow gear, freezing my you know what off as I feed. Dry and dusty will be a distant memory that no doubt I’ll fondly recall.

I’ll try not to complain about the cold and wet, but …

Be gentle with me if I slip up.

I’m still in process.

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