Dawn Ponies

Good natured little Diamond, such a sweet, kind pony.

The eastern sky looks like a blood orange just now..... dawn is nearly coming.

It's still dark in the barn though.

How do you hold a flashlight and serve up slabs of hay I wonder....I stick it in my pocket and fumble around for the dull knife that hangs there to cut twine......I have a super sharp Swiss Army knife in the house. I carry it always. Why am I fighting with this thing? Feeding horses in my bathrobe, that's why.

The ponies are just blobs of grey in the gloom.

It doesn't matter; they are as predictable as sunrise, if not as bright in color.

Jack has his head through the gate, nickering and shuffling his little black hooves. He is the quintessential pony, full of fuss and bother. "Me first, me first, me first..." 

And so I feed him first, nearest the door and just plain easier. And quieter.

Diamond stands broadside to her door, calm and serious, and so very gentle, the nicest mare I have ever worked around, just waiting for me to toss her hay in the corner. 

And then Gambit. He is tiny, so he puts his front hooves on the bottom rim of his stall door, the better to roll his big white eye at me and pinch his dainty nostrils, threatening grievous bodily harm if I don't hurry up with that blasted hay.

Hah, I'm not fooled. He is so darned friendly he wants to be petted every single morning before he turns around to eat. And so I pet him.

I like feeding the ponies. Heck, I just like ponies. 

And that's all.