There is comfort in being greeted by a whinnying chorus of hungry charges on a crisp winter morning, the smell of horse sweat and molasses in the air, and the rhythmic chewing of hay. Where I feel like most of my life is hurried, I don't rush through this task, I instead love to set my pace and let my stress melt away.
From the moment grain hits a bucket, or twine is cut on a bale of hay, there's a peace in knowing you're providing for another being. It's primal, it's humbling, and there is an easy silence that resonates deep within my soul. It makes everything right in my world and it's a miracle I am privileged enough to witness every morning this week.