It's been a long time since I've added to this blog—partly out of having no time for it, partly out of having little to say that's positive. I don't really want to sit here whining and moaning about how tough times are—we all know they are. We're doing everything in our power to cut costs, keep the farm running, and hang onto our horses until we can see what 2009 brings us—and hope that it gets better and not worse. We've made the decision that we're going to sell Bessie next year—after her foal is weaned if at all possible, but if not, we're going to try to get her onto a Morgan farm run by a breeder who understands the value of what she's carrying. Beyond that, well, we're just going to sit tight and see what comes to us. But lordy, is she getting HUGE. If not for the fact that I know she carries big (from her prior pictures), I'd swear she had triplets in there.

As for the young horses, Stevie is in training and doing well—just last Thursday he had a saddle pad put on him for the first time, and should be getting to a point of being fully saddle- and bit-broken early next year. He fills out more each day and really is starting to have that big, well-muscled Lippitt look. Ray is an outright wonder—I've never seen such a relaxed, obedient, and INTELLIGENT yearling. I can lead him to the barn and say, "Gimme some space, Ray," and he knows exactly what I want of him, and this is even having not had much time on my own with him. I can't wait to see how he goes when we get him into training! Mist is feeling a lot better too; we've rotated her into the outdoor shed at night (with Stevie) and she's a bit put out that she doesn't get to stay in the barn at night, but with Rusty's feet giving him trouble again, and Mist having a coat like a wooly mammoth, it only made sense to bring Rusty indoors until we can get the bacteria count down in his frogs. She'll survive it, but she seems to be somewhat ticked off that she's not "the Princess" anymore. And Maggie is still Maggie. She's gotten to be almost like a big dog around the farm—it's not quite that we let her roam where she wishes, but pretty darn close. At night, we just open the fence and let her take herself to the barn. She doesn't always make it into her own stall—more often than not she goes to Ray's stall, which I suppose you'd consider "a room with a view" if you were a horse. But other than that she will reliably go where she's expected to go.