![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLoS22h_pT54QIT4tzuLp3LYuYt0O27Cli1X8bhURmnNyTz4Pp5c2wB0isX0Cf61dXwqFUaeujk_fzly17qTRvWEXWji98upPK-6SLrVrbPVdMIKlXrexgpTOeDN1YX_EesOfCSv30PN7/s200/fog+dry+paddock+1+23+12.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTRg8-OsiKWUVxC7dkty_HlNbfi7cR_3IiNyg9G3WiLPqHODfXaR20ZaL8WRhFN9MnvJ6AA7rr1o119rpN572GuuJSH6xCp5UgeddNm49lbJS5AyWIaOIHtLDfM9_Hf3CNOsmlkvzJrx6/s200/fog+barn+1+23+12.jpg)
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The land of the ice and snow turned into the land of fog overnight. Pretty cool, unless you have to drive, like the Pea soup everybody talks about. By the time we left for work it was raining.
The trials and errors of building a working horse farm from scratch after turning 50, with a smattering of horse-keeping tips.
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