"It isn't too bad," she says, pausing to look up at him from where she's crouched. Her breath is still sending puffs of steam into the cold air.

"But I imagine it could stand to be freshened up 'fore too much longer. Perhaps in the next few days.

"You still got that pregnant mare?" she asks, throwing the scoops back into the bins when she's done, grabbing two buckets for herself.