The ‘have to’ gift
Representative photo of the “Mud Guppie” in the dark under a full moon. Basically the same as the other night (can you tell this is a frequent occurrence…)
“Umfph,” I grunt as I heave the overloaded wheelbarrow forward out of the divot it created sitting in the soft ground.
Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t fall.
The mantra plays on repeat in my head as I pray for traction in the slick mud the consistency of something between snot and clay.
This time of year is not for the faint of heart owning outdoor animals. Fall’s glorious color is gone, crushed on the ground in drifts of leaves that like to startle the horses when the (seemingly ever present) wind kicks them up in a gust, as if they wish to return to their original lofty places. The rain is now settling in. Cold, damp, all the way to the bone.
The blankets go on the horses one day, off the next and back on a day later. Everything becomes hopelessly dirty, whether it’s wet or dry that day. The floorboard of the car wafts odors that are better left outside, but cling to the boots no matter how much they are scraped off.
No way around it, horse care (or any animal that requires being outside) this time of year becomes hard.
And what a gift it is to “have to” care for the animals.
It’s easy to get caught up in the drudgery of the shift in this season. I adore the horses, and there are days when I dread going outside to combat the weather and care for them. Those are the days when it feels like a ‘have to’ and not a ‘get to’.
Even in the have to moments, though, you can still look for beauty. In the dark the other night, attempting (futilely) to scrape off crusted mud so that the blankets can go back on, I heard the eerie whooping sound of the Trumpet Swans out of the dark sky as they made their way southward. I stood in awe in the glow of the barn lights, staring into the inky blackness listening to them as they navigated through the black sky just the same as they do in the daylight.
There are always opportunities to find the gift within each moment, but we’ve got to be looking for them. Sometimes that is harder when the weather is bad, the mud is deep, and it’s so much more cozy and comfortable in the house.
But having lived through this for years now, I know without a doubt that the ‘have to’ moments often provide the most rewarding gifts, and I’m much more inclined to look for them now - being able to be curious about what kind of magical moment I might be able to experience in the midst of what appears to be an unfun situation. The more I embrace the ‘have to’ moments, the bigger the gifts get.
