The only thing I miss about Maggie, is she used to line her poops up like an accountant, very neatly at the far end of her paddock area. Always. These new horses are like frat boys that take a dump off a balcony. They leave their poops strewn around like my kids leave their shoes all over the house. Wherever they are, well, that's a good enough place to heft a load.
But then this morning when I was cleaning up poop in the early morning quiet, when the sun streams in like it's just teasing, it's going to stay this cool and perfect forever, I liked that I had to follow the random trail of poops all through the horsy area. It was like a scavenger hunt. Who knows where it will take me. There are little spots of light there, and a lone chicken pecking in mud over there, and a contented horse sneeze while chewing hay, both their muzzles nuzzling together.
Being organized is thrifty, but being random is mysterious and rich.
Perhaps we should call these new horses Hansel and Gretel.
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