My feet are in agony, my hands rubbed rough by leather and wood.
I've spent the day tromping back and forth through the barn, my ears full of mutterings and hoof on hardpack and the occasional stuttering whinny of startle or disgruntlement, my nose full of hay smells.
The rain touched us lightly - just enough to set a gentle rhythm on the metal roof and calm the stirrings of dust around the hooves of the horses as they ambled to their classes and back in again.
I taught a tack class. I learned how to treat cracked hooves and girth sores. I helped run interference for a birthday party full of squealing, grabby munchkins. I pressed my cheek to several outstretched necks. I doled out sugar cube after sugar cube, marveling at the agility of those funny, muscley lips, and tickled the tender-soft chins underneath.
I watched riders spin around the ring on a cushion of air and confidence, and marveled that I have so much left to learn.
I hope I have time for some of it. I'm watching my hourglass, nailed firmly to the table, as it shuffles the sand neatly along.