In high school physics or chemistry (both of which I passed by the grace of stellar friends and smarter people), I learned the notation for "change".  For whatever reason, it stuck with me all these years.  I know it's a mathematical thing, but even when writing in shorthand for meeting minutes, if there is a change noted, I draw delta.

If I could draw a giant triangle over my life right now, I would.  And then I'd plaster on a smiley face next to it.

So, yesterday?

I got to the barn at about seven and grabbed the Archer from the front pasture and put him in a stall.  Then I fed him about half his normal ration of grain and gave him his SmartPak and his beer.  While he was munching, I loaded a bale of hay on the wheel barrow and put it next to the trainer's trailer.  By this time, she'd shown up.  The newest horse, Number Five?  Totally a Warmblood:  a Westphalian.  She didn't seem too impressed with him and I realized that Archie was the only reason there was any sort of herd separation.

She asked me how he was on a trailer and I admitted that he hadn't been on one since he was trailered from Augusta to Savannah, but that the Kid was a racehorse, so we shouldn't have any problems.  Dude walked up that ramp and into that tiny cave like he did it every fucking day of his life.  Love this guy.

He screamed a few times when we got to one of the bigger intersections, but, driving behind him, I could also see that he was happily munching hay.

When we got to the barn, I unloaded him and walked him up to the barn.  Trainer carried my bale of hay and we parted ways.  She was super nice and told me that if I ever needed anything, to let her know.  I'm sure she has to wonder if she squeezed us out of the old place.

I walked Archie around a little bit, introduced him to the BM and let him sniff his new herd over the fence.  And then it was sudden immersion.
I hung out for about an hour, talking with the BM and just watching.  At one point, I decided I needed to switch his gallop boots for his fly boots and then it was the giant pain in the ass trying to trek him down.  As soon as I got close, someone would start running and he would take off.
And then he took off.
Eventually, though, I caught his sweaty ass and changed the boots.

Husband and I had a more annoying day after that:  I'd blown a tire the night before, so we had to get that fixed, which took forever.  Then I dropped him off to work out and I went to the Humane Society to photograph.  I picked him up, we had dinner, and then I took him back out to the new barn.  And took these:

My new trunk.  Thanks, Hillary!

I've never had a round pen before.

Round pen to the left, grass riding area in center, sand riding ring to right.

A washer and grooming area/wash rack.

Pasture.

Namesake.

Arch in front of the herd.

Like a boss.

The gray and the chestnut next to her are both mares in the connecting pasture.

Love this guy.

Drool.

Birds!

Mom!

Why, yes, that is a cavalleti, a mounting block and some jump standards.

RULES!