She managed to get close enough to kiss my nose, and I realized it was just Mother, not just some macabre mirage.
There was no cookie forthcoming though, so... maybe a mirage?
***
I do not understand humans' constant need to change their appearance. In the winter, Mother's outer coat is almost always brown, which is just fine as long as she keeps it on. Or sometimes blue, as seen here with the creepy hay sled from two winters back (remember when she hacked ALL of my mane and forelock off?!?).
There was an incident with a lighter colored coat that I still haven't recovered from.
So, really, why do the humans need so many outer coverings? I would think three would easily suffice. A super warm coat for the most chilly days (which are still balmy compared to North Dakota), a less warm but still warm coat for the in-between days, and a coat to cut the wind or drizzle on days that are windy or drizzly.
They should all be brown. Or blue. Those are comforting colors.
Oh, no, sometimes Mother appears nearly doubled in girth, and is a strange pinkish-purply color... is she sick? Bloated?
And somehow humans are never happy with their coverings. They either shiver and huddle and say they are not warm enough... why don't they just eat some hay? And give some more to us while they're at it, thank you very much. Or the humans decide that the coat is not needed, and wiggle and change color and leave the remnant that still smells like them in a lump somewhere.
Creepy.
As creepy as it is watching them shed coats, it's even creepier watching them shed other layers of coverings. They look like they are turning themselves inside out, and sometimes they make horrible grunts or squeaks.
That's just hoofin' creepy.
From what I've seen of Mother in the summertime, though, I guess we should be glad that there usually are bundled up in otherness.
The human form is such an oddity in the animal kingdom.
