Sweet Grass Farm, Elora, Ontario July 31 – August 3, 1978

Back at Sweet Grass for a few days, all of us ‘in waiting’ for baby #2, no one more ‘expectantly’ than Sal.  But she – or rather the baby – is not ‘due’ until September, so we plan pleasant diversions to help pass the time.   

One day I decided, for no good reason other than wanting to pass the time, do something useful, and something I definitely knew how to do, having spent more than 25 years riding and working with horses, to clean the two stalls in the barn that the two horses, Tappa and Junior, used when they weren’t out in the field grazing.  I covered my nose and mouth with my red bandana, cowboy style, and flew at it.  For about 10 minutes.  After that I slowed to a more sedate, actually closer to slug-like, pace.  There was almost two feet of heavy, sodden sawdust in each of the stalls. My arms and shoulders strained under the weight of each shovelful.  The fumes were overpowering.  I’m familiar with and accustomed to the earthy smell of manure – it’s for me a pleasant reminder of my time with horses.  But the odour of the old urine-soaked sawdust, was an entirely different matter.  My eyes stung, and my nose and throat felt raw – my glasses and red bandana were no match for the acrid ammonia stench.  In addition to a hot shower with plenty of soap, I spent more than my usual time in the pool, the chlorine smell being preferable to ammonia.

 

The next day I took advantage of the now sweet smelling barn to admire the results of my labour, and take a series of photographs of a fine old barn.

 

As it turned out, my connection with the horses on this visit wasn’t limited to mucking out their stalls.  Sal and Barney and I were skinny-dipping in the pool just before Barney's dinner last night when we heard some commotion.  We all swivelled our heads around to see Tappa trotting towards the vegetable garden, and Tom yelling for Sal.  Sal, at 8½ months pregnant, was hardly in the best person to be chasing horses.  She looked at me, and I responded by getting out of the pool to take a better look. At that point it was just one horse, happily heading to a veggie garden, clearly in anticipation of a wonderful free lunch.  That might have been pretty easy to control, if it hadn’t been for Codroy, who was barking like a maniac and, worse, chasing the horse. We all joined the fray by yelling at Codroy, who of course paid absolutely no attention to us.  He was laser focused on action – a now much more excited horse, running not only towards the garden, but away from the dog. Then Junior, who Tom had been holding onto, took it into her head that she ought to join in the fun, and managed to break free of Tom’s grip – with the lead rope still attached to her halter.   

It was at this point that I wrapped the one towel we had by the pool around me and headed towards the garden.  My first order of business was to attend to Codroy, who thankfully was easy to catch, and who, once caught, at least stopped barking.  Meanwhile the two horses were snorting and prancing through the vegetable garden in a state of high excitement. Tom handed me a second lead­rope, which I took with my free hand – the other one still preserving my maidenly modesty by clutching the towel to my chest – as I stood and watched the rodeo in the garden.  I started making calming sounds which the horses of course ignored, while Tom manhandled Codroy up and onto the pool deck.

 

Once the dogs were locked up and quiet, Tappa, the tamer (and smarter – or dumber?) of the two horses came over to see if I had anything to offer. I didn’t, but regardless she was caught. Junior was still too excited, and still prancing about in the garden, snatching at the greens, to come willingly towards us.  Tom got a bucket of oats to persuade her, and handed it to me.  I retucked the towel around me (I had lost it and re­wound it around myself it several times already), and took the bucket with my free hand.  Knowing that no horse would happily watch another horse get feed, especially grain, I let Tappa sink her nose into the bucket and made sure that Junior could hear her munching happily.  Junior of course came right over, and followed me, leading  Tappa, back into their corral, where I dumped the bucket of oats into their feed-box. 

 

I lost my towel while I was undoing the leash from Tappa’s halter, but at that point it seemed somewhat superfluous as I’d gotten dusty in all the excitement and was ready to leap back into the pool and finish my 50 lengths. But as I was making my exit from the corral, Junior let out a savage kick, just missing me.  Still naked, I yelled at her and lashed out with the end of the rope.  And I of course missed her.  But my antics provided no end of entertainment for Tom and Sal, who relived and relaughed about it well into the night.  And truly, how often do you see a naked woman playing cowgirl with a horse?

 

It felt like a good ‘final act, and so I took my leave (left the stage as it were) this morning and headed for Sal’s family cottage in the Muskokas.  It’s time for this naked lady to get on the road again.