Rain’s a strange kind of blessing - a reward and a punishment all at once.

- When the downpour washes over my tired, muddy hide, I almost feel clean again… almost like I can stand my own smell.

- But when I’m chained and soakin’ wet, workin’ in the wind, it cuts deep - cold right to the bone.

Us mares don’t have no coats or boots, just straps and irons, and the weather takes its toll on every inch of us.

Still, every now and then, life throws a little mercy our way - when I get to stand beside a stallion, or even a gentle gelding. Don’t matter much which. All I ever want is to lean close to another soul - even if it’s through the bars of a stall.