Monthly Archives: September 2010

Thanks Kid

Well, the little sorrel Kid is sold, awesome little horse. I actually hate selling horses. How can I sell my friends? I always feel like such a traitor.

And you always worry about how they will be treated but he should be OK. He’s going to be a good one and valuable to the fellow who owns him now. If he’d been a little bigger we sure could have used him but with 1800 lb. cows, 900 lb. horses just don’t work for us. We made a little money so that will help us out a bunch especially going into winter. Thanks Kid.

Still . . . I hate selling horses.

I couldn’t resist posting this picture. It is one of the few trees in our yard (a different kind of friend). Soon the leaves will have all fallen but it is so pretty right now I just wanted to share it. 
Kind of a sad day.

The Happy Dance

I don’t have a picture of me doing the Happy Dance but believe me, I’m still doing it. The bulls are gone, Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was a really pretty day, everything went exceptionaly well.  I am so thankful for good help.

We started kind of early.
My cowboy dropped me off at the north and these were the first 2 big guys I found.
It struck me a little odd that they left me and Blue to get 40 bulls into the corral while 
the 3 of them brought 9 bulls. 
But I guess they knew I could manage and I did.

But I got to just take photos while they sorted the bulls into the pens.
I love it when they do it all on horseback. It’s like a dance, a pretty smooth waltz, 123, 123.

We’re pretty happy with these nice new corrals at the south camp and gates you can work on horseback.

They are all welded out of nice strong pipe. Once they are caught there, they are caught.

The horses are enjoying a tasty bite while we helped the chairman of the board load up his bulls. They aren’t supposed to come till 5:00 PM to pick up their bulls but we had them all in around noon. Good thing because that’s when the board chairman came to check up on things. And we were done. TaDA!

Golden Richness

Me in my working duds, no makeup, just the hired hand (but with pearl earrings, note. Gotta love those oysters, taking something bad and turning it into something good.)

                                                    
I so love this quote:

 “I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud. So I like best of all autumn, because its leaves are a little yellow, its tone mellower, its colours richer, and it is tinged a little with sorrow…its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor of the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and is content.” –Lin Yutang


I don’t know how old the author of that is but I can so relate to that time in my life. I think I can see autumn in my face and you know that’s not so bad.



Gus and Milo

Bear with me here, anyone who is over 10. This is for my grandkids.
 Three little puppies came out to play,
all in the morning, one fall day.
They smelled at everything, this and that,
 then found a horrible, orange, tabby cat.
They asked him: “Want to play with us?”
 But then all ran away, except for Gus.
He asked the cat: “What’s your name?”
And the cat said: “Milo. Want to play a game?”
“I’ll lay here and you run around. . . 
Wait. Did you hear a chirping sound?”
Gus sat and listened but when he looked back, 
The cat was gone, and that was that.

A Hard Journey

I’m trying to get my mind around something today. But I think first I had better apologize.

Like many people, I can be offensive with out wanting to, or even thinking that I am being so, and sometimes I kind of mean to, but only when I’m really mad. Apparently, I don’t even need to speak to someone face to face to do it. So if I have offended anyone with my opinion or my unwanted advise, out there in blogland, I am sorry it happened and I am sorry for times, in the future, that it may happen.

I just kind of am who I am. What you see is what you get, some good, some bad. ( I can hardly wait till I’m 80 and people will make excuses for me because of my age and senility : )

That said, I just wanted you all to know that I’m not easily offended. Life is too short, (at my age). I appreciate your comments, especially the uplifting ones; most of your concerns I feel in my own heart. No one has offended me (except maybe the mower guy the other day but I think I’m even getting over that).

I realize we all have bad days and good ones that affect how we view the people around us but I’ll always try to give you the benefit of any doubt. I’ve learned that Life is a hard journey for everyone.

Sunday Stills-Things That Begin with S

Sore

Sulking


Stupidity


And on a more cheerful note the kind of palm leaf cowboy hat I wear. These hats are virtually indestructible. I’ve had this one a year, wore it everyday, in all kinds of weather (well, not hail, thankfully, and not snow, yet) and it still looks like new. Palm is so much more durable than the old straw cowboy hats we used to wear in the summer. A bit warmer maybe but that just means I can wear it till I need to switch to a tooke. 
My cowboy had one for 4 years, wore it everyday except when it got real cold and he needed ear-flaps and only reason he doesn’t still have it is because he got in a horrible wreck a few years back that tore the brim. It came down and covered the top half of his face protecting his glasses from breaking. (Although it didn’t save his nose getting broke, for the 4th time.)

The Oil Patch

The only one cheerful today is Blue.

The Oil Patch should be called the Black Plague. I’ll probably be shot for saying it but: “I HATE the oil patch!” (Be prepared for a rant. The faint of heart should quit reading now.)

That day, I rode so hard to put a bunch of crazy (Gelvieh) cows into their new field, well, all for naught. Now there are 500 pairs spread over 20,000 acres.

In their ‘enthusiam’ to mow the long grass, the mower guys (Oil Patch) knocked out one side pole on a Texas gate and instead of telling someone covered up by leaning the pole up and holding it with a couple of big rocks. Like that was going to fool the cows? (Mind you, it did fool the cowboy who checked all the gates before he put the cows in the field).

Did I tell you about the time they ramrodded us into digging a well so close to where we live I could have spit on them? How they left the gates open when it was 20 degrees below 0 Farenheight and my cowboy was gone so it was little old me that had to round up a dozen horses on foot in knee deep snow in a 5000 acre pasture? How I had to move the horses cause I couldn’t trust them to close a gate which meant I had to drive down and chop ice for the horses till they left? How I had to lock up my dogs the whole time they were there and when they were gone the first time I let them out, they ran right over there and rolled in human feceses?

I could go on. . .  and on. . .  and on. . .

How can Alberta ever survive with out the Black Plague? I don’t know about the rest of Alberta but there’s one cowgirl who would shout Haleluliah! if all the horrible stuff and everyone that sold their soul to get it out of the ground all dried up and blew away in the stiff Alberta breeze that tormented me all day.

My Cowboy’s Birthday Gift

  I’m having a hard time uploading any pictures. I find if I wait till too late at night sometimes I have that problem. Maybe I could just leave you with a poem I wrote for my cowboy on his 50th birthday. (He didn’t like being that old and wouldn’t even let me make him a cake.) This was my gift to him.

You’re just as young as you think you are;
if you tell yourself everyday:
“It’s been the long way round, back to square one,
but I’m finally on my way.

I’ve got a good dog, lots of beef to eat,
and the plump little wife, of course.
Why I’ve ended up right where I wanted to be
spending my time on a horse.

I sit down to breakfast each morning,
looking forward to a day in the saddle.
I’m fit and I’m healthy, better looking with age,
although no one sees but the cattle.

Finally, I’m living my dream.
The money I earn is my own.
To ride a good horse makes me rich
and I kind of like working alone.
The wife says I’m a better man
I’m learning to do things right:
more patient and kind, the swearing ’bout gone.
I’m beginning to see the light.
When the cattle are fed and yearlings are checked 
and the moon lights the night sky above,
I lay down my head in my own warm bed,
curled up with the girl that I love.”

Gus

We moved the puppies out to the barn. This morning while my cowboy was saddling I visited with them. That Gus, who could resist that look?

“Mom, pick me, pick me. I want up.”

“But I’m Mom’s dog.”

“Get down!”

“Hey! Well, I’m just going to stay here and be good.”

“See, you guys it pays to be good.”
What! Is this what I think it is?
Guys! I found Mom’s hat. Na, na, na, na, na.

Ten till Five

10:00 AM to 5:00 PM might sound like a short work day but not so much when it’s all a horseback, in the cold, rounding up missing bulls (I am soo sick of bulls) and helping the neighbor put his cows back that have been causing a big ruckus here (glad they are gone).

I’m crabby and don’t have a spec of patience left. It’s soak in lavender bubble-bath time.