Actually relaxing a little this morning. The lost were found yesterday and sent home. My cowboy was invited this morning to one of the neighbors to check for anything of ours that might be in his place. Pretty sure one of our bulls is still over there.
There is a freezing rain warning in effect for our area and it’s the first day of the “terrorist attack” (aka deer hunters). At least they aren’t quite as bad as the crazy antelope hunters. Makes it a good day to lay low.
So I was thumbing through the Western Horseman magazine. I actually have an old edition from the fifties. But even ol me isn’t as old as that publication. They started in 1936. It was one of my staples even as a very young cowgirl, all just a dream back then.
That so touched my heart. As I think back on all the craziness from this year’s work and even other years and how hard it can be and dangerous I know he so hit the nail on the head. It is a lot like heaven, those peaceful still moments as the sun first breaks the horizon with the touch of your horse’s breath on your face or sitting in the saddle under the black expanse of a magnificently starry night while you and your horse watch the birth of new life in snow that seems to stretch unobstructed all the way to the north pole. Or like a couple of days ago when Pic and I had the privilege of watching 2,000 head come out of the fog, file silently through a lonely gate, and disappear back into the fog.