Small luxuries are the best kind.

Like most things in life, all saddle soaps are not created equal.
I grew up in a family of saddle soapers. We cleaned our boots and shoes, kept ice skates soft and supple as well as small pairs of white kid gloves, and quivers, we all had quivers.
The saddle soap of my youth was waxy and white and came in a tin like shoe polish. Later, I discovered as I cleaned my horses bridle, the virtues of liquid saddle soap. It looked like honey in a jar. I would dampen my rag with it while sitting on a bench in the tack room removing the grime and sweat of the day knowing full well I would be doing the same task the next day.
There is such a predictable rhythm when you share your life with a horse. Greet your horse, groom and tack her up, ride on trails and through fields in a world belonging to the two of you. Praise and show gratitude all the while finding the same returned silently. Cool down and groom again, feed and kiss goodbye. Leave your clean tack hanging in it's place and all is well with the world.
This past Christmas, Santa put this glistening cake of saddle soap in my stocking. I saved it for a day when, I don't know, I needed a treat, could savor a luxury, could pretend I was royalty?
Today was the day. I peeled the paper off the soap, and admired how jewel like it is. I found a saucer just right to put it in, grabbed a soft rag, dampened it with water and ran the rag over the cake of soap knowing it would be an elegant treat for leather, a horse or me!
Really it was a treat for my Bernardo sandals. They were not happy jumping puddles as I got caught in thunderstorm at the city docks the other night, but they are very happy now.