Cody's Num Nums, page 3
As we ate our cheese, crackers, and apples, and fed alfalfa blend pellets and bits of our apples to our horses who were tied next to us, only a couple of riding parties passed by. Two women followed by a lovely pony carrying a teen who barely seemed to fit, and a man on a Paso Fino. As he approached and passed, we watched the odd paso corto gait, with feet flying out to the side in perfect prancing rhythm. It was the quintessential girl’s horseback outing.
Sitting on our log, we watched the humans and coyote, basked in the late summer sun, and I first experienced Cody begging. He was tied closest to us, and his eyes were as expressive and eager as any dog wishing for the treat in his master’s hand.
As the close of the sale of the ranch approached, the summer had been draining, emotionally as well as physically. Based on this gentleman’s agreement, we had announced the sale and removed all business after mid-September from our books. We agreed on a date for closing, based largely on our commitment to two weddings. We could not imagine throwing such a wrench into some bride’s nuptials as cancelling their site. However, it was several weeks before we had a real contract, and the work involved with putting the deal together all happened in our busiest time of year. Not to mention leaving a place and business we have given our lives over to for the past two to two and a half decades. The emotional fallout is more akin to divorce than to a career change.
Standing on the brink of emotional exhaustion, another blow came in the form of a phone call. I had made it through the summer with only occasional tears, mostly over the upcoming loss of the connection to our staff and guests. The season had ended, and we were wrapping up the photographer’s clinic and had one wedding left before closing the operations. I had been moving my office home, wanting to have those things I would need after the sale out of the way before moving out all of the furniture and office equipment. But I was spent, on the final sprint, so to speak.
Heather, our long time wrangler, was charged with selling the herd. She knew the horses better than anyone, and this personal relationship with them would help her find the perfect match for each of our horses. After only two weeks, she had managed to place a large part of our herd, we had shrunk from over 80 horses on property, to around 24 left to sell. The girls and I had taken first pick, and that part of our world was perfect, even if the rest was in turmoil. So, the early morning phone call felt more like the world crashing in than the bump in the road it really was.