As I stood there in the stall, a breeze came through bringing in the pine smell from the pine trees surrounding Fox Lake Farms.

 Looking over the stall gate, I am reminded of the amazing nature that I can see for miles. A horse is guided into the stall that I am standing in and I gently scrape my hand across the soft brown hair of the horse's mane that is blowing in the wind. The sound of the owner placing the chains around the latch on the gate of the stall rings in my ear for a few seconds.

I lazily stumble over to select a stiff bristled brush to groom the horse. I brush from right to left and feel the burn in the muscles in my forearms.

After about ten minutes of grooming, I begin to perspire, tasting the salty sweat as it drips down my face.