I watch her. A lot.
She’s very impressive.
She works through heat. Rain. Snow.
She works with her body. Physically. In labors usually done by a man.
But she’s found a way to coax her female body to endure. Invent new ways. Overcome obstacles . . .
She does her best, always.
I learn from her.
She runs late. She works late. But she gives it her all . . .
She talks to strangers, all the time.
At the market. Post Office. Bank.
Small talk. Smiles. Little quips. Corny jokes.
She makes “friends”, at least she tries . . . she hands out her little cards . . . yet they seldom call.
She smiles and waves at bored little kids in the back seat of cars. (She remembers being bored, in the back seat of a car . . . )
Even her little beanie-monkey, Louie, waves and makes a bus full of camp kids laugh. (I’m sure they still remember :))
She has a weird brain. Wired backwards, it would seem.
Spatially challenged — her messy car and cluttered world, her own personal haven. Damn the rules — creativity abound!
(All tidy and picked up, she feels lost . . . empty.)
She keeps her chin up. She talks herself up to the task in front of her. No matter how hard. How tired.
Some people love her. Others think she’s a kook :))
She’s a stranger in a strange land, for sure.
But over the years, I’ve come to respect her. Love her.
Trust her. Depend on her.
She does her best. Even when she blows it. Even when she fails.
She gets back up. Dusts off her knee. Tries, tries again.
She’s learning to curtail her anger.
She’s learning to curb her tongue.
She’s learning to appreciate and enjoy all that Life dishes her . . .
She works hard. Physical.
She’s really, really good at what she does.
She puts her body at risk every time she works: Smashed feet; aching hands; kicked in the head; broken wrist . . .
But she heals. She learns. She carries on.
She puts a rogue horse (or horse owner) in its place with a snap, a snort, a big, loud posture.
She gets them to lick, to submit . . . and handles thousand-pound creatures like puppy dogs.
Lifts their hooves, supports their bodies, calms their distracted minds . . .
(A passer-by wouldn’t know how difficult her job!)
She sculpts. Rasps. Trims.
Sweats, shivers — yet persists.
Creates living, breathing artwork.
She hammers steel.
Sews horseshoes onto hooves — with nails.
Hefts anvils and tools and heavy boxes of equipment . . . yet carries her own tiny broom set to sweep and clean as she goes . . .
(There’s order in her seeming chaos :))
Horse whisperer. Farrier. Wrangler. Business woman. Creative kook . . .
She is my favorite. She is my love.
She watches over me. I watch over her.
She works hard! And I appreciate her!!!!
I watch her age. I watch her grow.
I watch her appreciate Life more, even more, now . . .
We have come to a truce.
I no longer bash her.
I now support her.
Without her, I would be nowhere.
Because, she is me . . . Dawn.
Woman of steel!!!
And so I ask, who do you watch?
What work does your woman, or man, do?
Have you two come to a truce? Or do you still argue?
I hope you two can fall in love :))
Life is too short to argue with your Worker . . .
Make peace, not war. And let it start with you, and me :))
Find out more about Dawn’s HoofCare Services
Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride! Experience the thrill of becoming one with your horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!
Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today: (661) 703-6283
Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s sister blog: Journal of Dawn
Additional photo credits: H. Jenkins, T. Turner, S. Curry