The Very Good Days of Abby

Thank you for all the concerns about my absence on Friday from blogging. We are fine, but already are receiving notifications about probable strong storms again tonight. Better grab my ruby slippers, the dogs' leashes, and prepare the laundry room, just in case!

There is a lot to write about, especially as BreyerFest gets closer and closer. Cambria's and Titan's performances in Disneyland went well, and the quiet book is coming along. And, I am into my second week of cleaning the garage.

I haven't cleaned it in two years and it shows.

My way of cleaning anything, from closets to cabinets to model horse shelves or to the garage is to begin in one area, take everything out and set it aside, sweep and clean that area, and then sort things and put what is being kept back away. Neatly.

You can see where I began - the corner with the antique Coca Cola cooler (used at our apple orchard to hold jugs of cider) is sorted, swept, and the things we are keeping are neatly stacked. But now the garage floor is covered in things that are either going to Good Will, to another shelf in a different spot, or into the trash or recycling bins.

Our cars are sitting out on the driveway because there is so much on the garage floor, although Thursday night I shoved it all over so we could get one car inside to protect it from any hail damage or debris. (Like flying carpets...)

If you are wondering why Craig isn't helping, he is. He does the heavy lifting for me and helps me sort stuff. But just as he prefers to do the grocery shopping, a task I very much dislike, I prefer to clean the garage, something that he is not fond of. That division of labor works well for us.

You can see my English saddle is being kept in the garage. Also in there are the buckets of brushes, fly spray, and other necessities that I had kept in the trunk of my car while Abby was alive. After she passed, I quietly set them in a corner of the garage. I didn't sort or go through them - I just couldn't bear to do that that at the time.

Yesterday, I did.

Longe whips and crops, a fly mask and vet wrap, a western girth, brushes, my paddock boots... With Pepper keeping me company as always. (I brought a dog bed out for her but it was warm and she was cooler on the garage floor.)

I was stunned when I pulled this body brush out of the bucket. And then the tears began.

A thick pad of Abby's hair clung to the bristles. So thick that I could feel them just as if I were touching her.

I held that brush to my cheek and cried. 

What an unexpected blessing that was - I felt like she was with me as I held that brush. I can only guess that I'd last used it when she was shedding and then for some reason had not cleaned the brush before tossing it back into my grooming tools bucket. What a treasure to have now.

Equally hard to find was this.

I gently placed it into the bucket with the other things.

Tomorrow I am meeting Belle and her family at the barn to teach them how to clean their tack. Although Tim has been adamant that I do not need to clear out my things and that I am always welcome there, I am going to bring my tack trunk home when we are done. My western saddle, too.

I've cleared a space in the garage for them, and it is comforting to know I will have my horsey things at home with me where I can see them.

And, if I am really, really missing my girl, I can pull out that brush, hold it in my hands, and smile as I remember the very good days of Abby. 

Stay 'tooned.