If concerns over deer in the ditch on one’s wedding day (see part one) weren’t enough to highlight the differences between the ‘big city’ and, well, anywhere in New Brunswick:

As is often done, the morning after the wedding the bride’s family hosted a brunch to feed the out of towners and give everyone a chance to watch the bride and groom open gifts. Around noon, stuffed with homemade pastries and fresh-picked strawberries, we (me, husband, and another New Brunswick-native friend) were on our way out the door of the no-longer-in-use church serving as dining area. We crossed paths with the groom’s father.

“Hey, you guys going to see Uncle Tom’s horse?”

Say what? (not sure if words came out, or if we communicated through facial contortions)

“Uncle Tom just got a miniature horse, a bunch of us are going to see. I’ll be leading the way if you want to come along.”

“Um…sure, why not.”

We hopped in the car joined the convoy to Uncle Tom’s barn—His name isn’t Tom. I can’t remember his name and tend to avoid using real names on my blog anyway. Actually, since I can’t remember his name, it may very well be Tom. But that would just be a funny coincidence.

Down the road we went, through the trees, past the massive wood pile, and into the narrow dirt driveway leading up to a large red barn. Half a dozen or so vehicles maneuvered and parked. The crowd squeezed into the barn, which is home to a number of definitely-not-tiny horses. I edged out of the kicking range of an animal whose ass was a foot or two over my head.

When my turn at the front of the crowd came, I saw this:

Awww, I still can't believe that's a horse. Not quite fully grown, we were told. But still, I didn't know they came that small. Pretty cool to see.