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It’s okay, Raven.

A few days ago, my morning reverie was the sound of Kate shrieking in a pre-dawn hour that Evelyn had thrown up over the side of the bed and managed to get it on her (not a great way to start the day, I’ve found). So, everyone was up early, showering and pulling sheets off the bed and mopping, then falling asleep on the couch when all was said and done. I figured I’d get a jump start on the chores and went out to take care of the horses when first, I shocked myself on the fence (yep, it works!) and then the horses kept running off when I tried to put fly spray on them…they’re so ungrateful. The final straw was when Dancer spooked and stomped on my ankle before running off like it was funny. At that point, I let myself be frustrated. I stomped/hobbled my way back to the house, yelling a few nasty things at that sassy mare and jerk-of-a-gelding as I left. They didn’t seem to give a lick what I thought of them, but a hundred yards away, Raven heard the anger in my voice and immediately plopped down into her sorry, submissive, tummy-exposed position. She hadn’t done anything, but it was obvious she was sorry that something was the matter.

Sweet Raven.
Well, at least somebody’s sorry.
(Watch out, Dancer. I’m coming to train you!)

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True stories of raising children, remodeling, braving the elements and plotting out life, all while living on a humble acreage in central Indiana.

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