Horses and Fourth of July, A bad Match

Scot and I are in the midst of our bi-annual ritual: Twice a year, during the fourth of july and on New Year's Eve, we spend the evening in the barn feeding the horses hay. That's because, where we live, not only do people have all kinds of fireworks (mostly illegal), but they also really love shooting off their guns. And somehow they think the law of gravity doesn't apply to them. What goes up, stays up.

And since we are firm believers in the law of gravity, we bribe our horses to come into the concrete-bunker of a barn to keep them out of harms way. It's too hot to lock them in, so we just feed them until the shooting stops. They've gotten pretty used to the noise. The only one who reacts to the fireworks and gun shots is Belle, but she's three and she reacts to, well, everything.

Tonight we might be lucky. A big storm moved in this evening, and it looks like all but the bravest souls will be inside--the wind's up and some rain is falling. Still, there are hardcores out there! In just a matter of moments, the booming will begin, followed by the guns, followed by the inevitable news story about someone finding a bullet lodged in the wall of their house.
Hopefully it won't be us.