Full disclosure to begin: I may be one of the few people in America who has not watched this television show. But I love the title.

It’s perfectly descriptive of so many things in my life.

And I suspect in yours too.

Frosty Tails

Here’s what happened on Sunday that earned this blog title:

It was cold and everything was kissed with this beautiful frost-trees, fences, dry grass, and horses. I’ve never seen the horses so frosty.

Honestly. It was rather magical.

And did I mention that it was cold?

We were doing our regular feeding thing. Chickadee is a food gobbler while Pepper is a food picker, so Chickadee always finishes first. Once she pops her head up, I know her pan is licked clean and she’s ready for a hay cube or five.

Once she’d finished with her snacks, I slipped the lead rope over her head and led her to the gate. Like we’ve done at least a hundred times (and really many more than that) before. But by now a few other horses had gathered at the fence. They were cold and bored and hungry. I shooed most of them away to give Chickadee a little space to get back through the gate.

All was going well when a black horse that I don’t know decided to see what we were doing. He started for the gate. Chickadee spooked and frantically backed away, ran over me and flung the gate wide. She  tore the heck out of her coat in the process.

Throughout the herd you could hear the cheer rise up among the ranks: “The gate’s open. Run!”

I scrambled to my feet and luckily closed the gate before we had a total jail break. As it was, one very large white gelding made it out and immediately ran to Pepper’s food pan.

It scared the you-know-what out of Miss P.

I wasn’t very happy either, as you might imagine.

I managed to get the intruder haltered up and back in the pasture, breathing hard and cursing all the while. (That would be me not him!)

When I turned around to deal with my horses, all I could see was their tails. Those frosty tails pictured above, hustling down the road.

I’m sure Pepper said the horse equivalent of, “Come on Chickadee, we’re blowing this pop stand.”

They kept walking, never once looking back, totally ignoring me running behind them. I guess they were running away from home, though I doubt they had a good plan for how they were going to manage.

In between me huffing and puffing and stumbling through the snow, I was smiling. They looked pretty darn cute walking side-by-side. Oh those Golden Girls!

They made it completely down one long road that leads to the pasture, and then halfway down another when Chickadee stopped and looked back at me. She had this expression on her face that said, “Uh-oh. Am I in big trouble?”

I stroked her neck and reassured her she wasn’t going to die, and she let me get her haltered up. Only then did Pepper stop walking and notice that her buddy was not right beside her. She stopped, looked at me and then very slowly walked to me. “I know you got scared,” I crooned to her as I slipped the halter around her neck. “I’m sorry.”


Then the three of us walked through the deep snow to a different gate. Pepper went right in, but Chickadee balked. It took a little persuading to get her through, but finally she agreed. She had obviously really gotten scared.


That’s how I spent my Sunday. What about you?