I went to my new friend's barn the other day. She's going on vacation for two weeks back to her hometown across the country, so I felt like.. speediness was necessary.
Her barn is toted as being the premier in the area. I mean.. it's Savannah. That's not really a competition.
But, damn. It really did take my breath away.
|(not my photo!)|
The barn was super picturesque with a second floor and a balcony. To the left of the barn was the covered arena. No shit, I've never seen a covered arena that wasn't affiliated with a college equestrian program. I just.. seriously didn't think anyone in the south had a private one. To the right were the individual pastures and the jump ring. We entered through the center and I took a quick moment to wipe the drool off my chin.
Everything was immaculate, from the shaved chins and pulled manes to the swept aisles and neatly lined tack trunks. There were two aisles with stalls lining the walls and a row down the center. Every stall had a generous amount of clean shavings, was spacious and had bars for the upper. The barn was divided in half and each half had a Big Ass industrial ceiling fan. I didn't get to see the tack room, but I'm pretty sure she had to enter a code in that door, too.
I can say that the bathroom might have been nicer than mine at home. Including the corner shower.
She pulled the little warmblood mare out from another, lower barn and brought her back up to the main barn and proceeded grooming and tacking up. I never offered to help, but instead explained that I was neurotic about people touching my pony, so I wasn't going to go there with hers. Also, I wanted to take photos!
After her ponykins was all tacked up, we walked out to the main ring.
And I promptly fell to the ground, rolling.
Not really. But I did ask if she could back her car up and let me start filling the trunk with the footing. It was that magical rubber-something/sand/unicorn spit combination that felt like I was walking on air.
All of the jumps were pristine and gorgeous and set to a height I wouldn't have felt comfortable jumping. A little trot pole/cavaletti was set up and a few lines. New friend (nickname pending) warmed the mare up and did a few jumps before calling it a day. I have more photos, but only wanted to share the ones where you couldn't see her face. Then back inside to untack, hose off, and head out.
|See the liverpool in the back?|
The little run in for the pasture?
|SO MANY JUMPS.|
|To the left of that white panel fence was a triple combination of more pretty white fences.|
I, of course, asked her when she wanted to come out to the ghetto with me. I think my barn could be amazing and still be considered ghetto-fabulous comparatively.
|All cute and stuff, but that bay on the far left tried to eat us.|