A New Purpose: What Rescue Horses Taught Me About My Own
- Amy
- Jul 20
- 1 min read
Most summer evenings at the farm start the same way.
We wait for the heat to break. In July that means feeding after 8pm, when the air finally starts to cool and the light goes soft and gold across the pasture.
If I’m first to arrive, I unplug the electric fence, unlock the barn, and pull out the wheelbarrows, shovels, and rakes. Then I say hello to the horses and collect a few snuggles before the real work starts.
The real work is not glamorous. It’s shoveling manure out of stalls, sweatier still when it’s been raining. It is physical, dirty, humbling work.
I love it. 🩷
Many of these horses are rescues. They didn’t get a good start. My brother and sister-in-law have spent years earning their trust — sacrificing their own comfort to make sure these animals feel safe and loved for the rest of their lives. I am in awe of what they’ve built.
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