All the melted snow from yesterday had turned into a treacherous sheet of ice today which was just one more thing I could add to my list of winter driving fears. Stepping out into the bitter cold wind, I slammed the door, ripping my hood up over my head and bracing myself against the wind.
( I would write: All the melted snow from the day before had now laid way to a treacherous sheet of ice today. Stepping out into the bitterly cold wind, I slam the car door, rip my hood over my head and brace myself against the frigid cold air.)
It was only 10am, but I had decided that there was no use in kidding myself that the temperature would raise as the day went on. (I would rephrase.) I had spent the last hour on the phone trying to transcend the language barrier between myself and the technical support on my computer hot-line (what does this have to do with what you’re trying to convey, were you feeling frustrated at the time?). The entire drive down here (where is here?) had been spent trying to avoid the onslaught of phone calls from my parents in the middle of some argument seeking mediation. (Good reasoning for escape here)
The silence of the normally bustling equestrian center was a welcoming change. Pushing my weight against the massive oak door, I quickly slipped into the barn, flicking on the lights and shutting the door behind me in a pitiful attempt to conserve some warmth. Immediately, twenty curious faces poked out from the stall doors wondering who had interrupted their breakfast. Watching steamy breaths come from the horses noses, I couldn't help but compare them to fuzzy dragons. (Love this)
Walking down the middle of the aisle, I stopped at one of my favorites (I’d add a name here), reaching out a thawing hand (, I removed) remove some of the stray straw from its (his) forelock. Immediately, he (again, name) searched my pockets, looking for stray treats. Once the large thoroughbred decided I had nothing to offer, he headed back to his meal, leaving me to arrive (could strike the word 'arrive' here) my destination.
The large open viewing station was one of the most taken for granted amenities of the barn. It overlooked all of the horses and the massive riding arena that I had spent countless hours in. Taking the place of the normal jumps and ground poles, there were the remnants of the weekend “house warming” party we had had for some of the new boarders. Other suggestions of the community setting were seen littered around the arena walls in photos of past clinics, events, and outings. My eyes automatically scanned them and a smile was brought immediately to my lips. Each photo seemed to bring back a specific memory tied to this barn and the people in it. (I'd strike the part of the house warming party, and focus on how this portion has felt like 'home' to you)
It was a relatively new barn, but it had somehow been able to avoid the sterile atmosphere of so many of the larger barns our group traveled to for shows ('our group traveled for shows' seems a little out of place here). On the door of each of the horses stall was a wooden plaque bearing the name of both the horse and the owner. Joanie, the owner (I'd add 'stable owner'), had given us each one that prior Christmas. Ribbons from various barn events were strung up along the doors, as well as photos of the horse and owner taken by our own aspiring photographer from the 4H club. (I would try and combine this paragraph with the one prior to make the barn feel more like ‘home’ and like ‘your barn’. Perhaps take out the housewarming portion?)
I hadn't consciously made the decision to make the considerable drive downtown, but it seemed that whenever I got into the car without a chosen destination, this is where I would end up. (but it seems as though whenever I get into the car without a chosen destination, this is where I end up.) Descending the wooden stairs, I headed down past the familiar faces. I passed the ornery little white pony I learned to jump on.(, and even further …) Even further down was the first horse I competed with (with or on?) in a three day event (I would leave the last portion of this sentence out “in a three day event”). Even though I hadn't planned on coming down (I’d strike the word ‘down’) to ride, I found myself entering the impeccably clean tack room and selecting the gear for one of my new favorite mounts (maybe a name here to). Outside, I could hear more cars pulling into the driveway. My peaceful sanctuary was about to get much busier (possibly 'was about to be interrupted), but whatever had been plaguing my mind when I first arrived was now of no concern and I welcomed the company. I really liked the bit of history that you have chosen to provide here, and I also love the feeling of calming you get once you walk through the doors of the stable. Very good!