A Horse Is A Horse

We spent President's Day weekend skiing with a friend in Vermont and staying with her family just across the border in New Hampshire. Yesterday we visited her brother's horses at the stables. I had fallen a little behind the rest of the group in the corral - my California feet are a little less sure in the snow - when I felt warm breath on the back of my neck, and the distinct sense that I was being . . . followed. 

So I turned around. 

I took the second photo after I'd backed away. Slowly.

Posted on Tuesday, Feb 16, 2010