Adjacent to the barn, leading to the only horse shelter and between two pastures, there is a rather large concrete floor made up of small slabs. You would never know it though. It is completely covered, ankle-deep, in muck (horse waste). I asked Irene why this was so grossly unmaintained. She replied... 'It can't be kept clean'. The horses eat standing in this. What's up with that I thought.
So... I hired a young friend to help me and we proceeded to muck up the slab. Even after 'years' of neglect it turned out to be less work then I thought. In the meantime Irene keeps reminding me 'You are wasting your time'. Why? 'You will never be able to keep it clean'.
In defiance; Irene has refused to allow the horses to be moved during the cleanup effort. One of these horses is a young 'unhandled' colt which has already broken her ribs. The horses were in our faces the whole time we were working.
I don't give up so easily. So wheelbarrow by wheelbarrow we filled the tippy. Up the make-shift ramp. Until that slab was clean. Now we will see how hard it it to keep it this way.
Well... That's made a big difference. Hasn't it. And that last layer of dirt, to fine for shovels, will just wash away in the next heavy rain.
A very satisfying last load.
The pastures are in much worse condition and are about a thousand times the size of the concrete slab. Now what do we do. Irene is no longer helpful. And... We're not really farmers.
Uh Oh!
