My hand is finally healed enough to ride, hallelujah!! My hip still thinks it’s not a great idea, but whatever. Only broken bones get opinions.

2024 marked my 20th year living in Texas, the longest I’ve ever lived in one place.

Something I’ve pondered a lot since moving here: Are some people naturally suited to cold weather vs hot weather? Or is it all a matter of conditioning?

I’m from Massachusetts, and like most native New Englanders I grew up playing in the snow. I got my first pony when I was 3, and I’m not stranger to feeling like your feet are going to shatter when you jump out of the saddle, or sliding my cold hands under a thick mane to get some feeling back in my fingertips. I remember my first year away from home at college in Washington DC, I was walking across campus with some friends wearing jeans and t-shirt. “Aren’t you cold?” they asked in amazement. I wasn’t. It was 45 degrees.

I have always loved summer. Long days, warm nights, shorts and sandals – if I could have it year-round I would. I was super excited to move to Texas partly because of the weather. It seems to me I have a higher tolerance for heat than average – which is not to say I’ve never pushed it, I definitely have. And the first few days when it starts to get really hot, it is a bit of a struggle. But I settle in pretty quickly, and I love every bit of it. Up at 4:30, driving to the barn in the dark, grooming by star light as the first streaks of dawn start over the horizon, and then beautiful sunrises to paint the sky as we ride.

So if summer is the best thing about Texas then winter is the worst, and not just because we lose power and people die every time it snows because we totally had no idea this would happen again (there are, obviously, lots of other reasons why Texas is not ideal.)

No, winter is the worst because it comes on very suddenly. I have always hated fall, because it means the end of summer and you can take your sweaters and your crisp air and your foliage and shove it up your…

*ahem*

Anyway, winter in Texas is fast and cold. Case in point, the high yesterday was 72 and the high today is 46 with a low of 28. And I don’t care how hardy you are, it’s hard to handle a 26 degree drop in a matter of hours.

That goes for the horses too – here’s a fun fact I learned: It’s not the temperature that triggers animals to start growing their thick, fluffy winter coats, it’s lack of daylight. So when the days start getting shorter, the horses start getting fluffier, which really sucks if it’s still 85 degrees. Many, many horses get clipped here.

Yesterday C. mentioned she was dreading have to blanket 70 horses. M. and I offered to help, and she gratefully accepted. It was still sunny and warm when I got there at 5, and I was almost too warm in my t-shirt & hoodie.

It was almost dark when we got to Griffy and Talos. I said I could do them both myself and confidently grabbed their blanket box. They both came eagerly to the gate, and I took out their blankets and tossed them over the fence as I prepared to go in. Right as I did that, the wind kicked up and blew Talos’ blanket to the ground. He freaked out – gave a little half rear and galloped away. I sighed.

Having Talos has given me a new appreciation for Griffy. I love Talos a lot, but he’s definitely the type of horse that needs some reassurances. Griffy has always had more of a “Whatever, human” kind of attitude. So as Talos was snorting and dancing behind us, Griffy stood patiently while I spread out his blanket on the ground, trying to sort out all the straps. I never blanket at liberty, but I barely had to hold the rope while I tossed the blanket on, wrangled it into the right place, did up 75 buckles and bits of velcro, adjusted his tail, and then finally told him how handsome he looked. I gave him lots of good boys and chest scratches during the process, because he is the best boy and also very handsome in his purple blanket.

Talos had cautiously approached us while this was going on, so I went to see him sans blanket for some belly scratches. Once I lulled him into a false sense of security, I went & got his blanket. He got tense, but I held it low and reassured him it was ok. He carefully sniffed it, and hopefully recognized his own scent on it. I kept talking to him & breathing while holding it and he eventually seemed calm, so I went & put his halter on. I wanted to give him some time to calm down without feeling trapped by being haltered and I know he would try really hard not to pull away or hurt me even if he was afraid. It’s a lot of pressure!

I went slow, I breathed, and he finally let me toss the blanket over his back. Once it was on it was like he realized what it was and was totally fine. I had no problem doing up all the straps and I assured him he was the handsomest, bravest boy and I was very proud of him.

All told, it took us about 3 hours to blanket all the horses. By the end, my t-shirt and hoodie were doing nothing against the plummeting temperature; did you know it’s really hard to exhale when your teeth are chattering? I tried to repeat a mantra to myself I learned from a friend – “I am willing to be uncomfortable.” I am not sure I was as willing as it may have sounded. One sweet thoroughbred let me rest my cheek against his fuzzy neck for a few minutes of warmth while C. was putting on his blanket. Another considerate old girl leaned forward for me to give her scratches and warm up my finger tips.

All this week it’s supposed to be cold:

I am going to the barn tomorrow no matter what.

I am willing to be uncomfortable.

I am willing to be uncomfortable.

I am willing to be uncomfortable.

Is it summer yet?