Saturdays on the ranch with blue sky and warm temps are a gift so extraordinary that words alone can never describe.
Today included bluebonnets, indian paint brushes, yellow daisies, thistles out the wazoo, doves, squirrels, one wore out blue hound dawg, breezes, baby fish in the tank, and a whole lot of "damn this is the closest thing to heaven ever!!!!!!!!!"
Thank you Lord for the blessing of the Tin Star Ranch and all it entails.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Hog Mutton A La Mode
The bride used to whup up a mean skillet of vermicelli when the kids was yonkers and they would wolf it down like they was huggin' a hound.
Asking fer "thirds", they would want to know what manna from heaven had fallen in their plates. Mama would reply, "Hog mutton a la mode". Our chilluns would gratefully parrot, "More hog mutton a la mode Mama".
The ranch hand figgers all folks that grow up "poor" have similar stories.
In Wright City, our tongues used to spank our tonsils when Mom would fry some Spam or salt pork and we would be placed in instant grocery gratification. Let her put a slice or two in an offering of baloney before it went in the Crisco and we were slobberin' like a team of sled dawgs?
Hey, we were fed, clothed, loved, and had an only semi-leaking roof over our heads.
How much better can life be?
Asking fer "thirds", they would want to know what manna from heaven had fallen in their plates. Mama would reply, "Hog mutton a la mode". Our chilluns would gratefully parrot, "More hog mutton a la mode Mama".
The ranch hand figgers all folks that grow up "poor" have similar stories.
In Wright City, our tongues used to spank our tonsils when Mom would fry some Spam or salt pork and we would be placed in instant grocery gratification. Let her put a slice or two in an offering of baloney before it went in the Crisco and we were slobberin' like a team of sled dawgs?
Hey, we were fed, clothed, loved, and had an only semi-leaking roof over our heads.
How much better can life be?
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Dreams Fulfilled
The ole ranch hand has in past times chronicled his passion for fishin'.
Over the last year the ranch modifications have included "cleaning" and "shaping" the pond followed by a monsoon season of tank filling rain.
This Friday past included accepting delivery of baby hybrid bass, bluegill bream, and a slew of minnows for ranch residency.
Releasing those puppies into the clear pond water fairly shouted promise of future days watching a bobber waltz or feeling the throb of a hooked bass resisting monofiliament confinement.
A year from now will tell the tale of of a life long dream to ease off the porch, stroll to the pond, and catch/release til the western sun slips to its slumber.
A dream fulfilled and a quality of life that is priceless.
Ya gotta love it!
Over the last year the ranch modifications have included "cleaning" and "shaping" the pond followed by a monsoon season of tank filling rain.
This Friday past included accepting delivery of baby hybrid bass, bluegill bream, and a slew of minnows for ranch residency.
Releasing those puppies into the clear pond water fairly shouted promise of future days watching a bobber waltz or feeling the throb of a hooked bass resisting monofiliament confinement.
A year from now will tell the tale of of a life long dream to ease off the porch, stroll to the pond, and catch/release til the western sun slips to its slumber.
A dream fulfilled and a quality of life that is priceless.
Ya gotta love it!
A Dawg's Life
The ranch hand is guessing that Fido's memory spans something less than one hour.
Spend half a day with him in constant contact, go in the bunkhouse for a spell, and when ya go back out he reacts like you are a long lost soul mate he has not seen in years.
Swat him on the nose for some inane indiscretion and he will shamefully retire to his "house". Let a few minutes elapse and he will emerge like it is a new world and all is good.
Keep the dawg food dispenser loaded, douse a spot or two of cold water in his bowl, scratch his head, and he is in heaven in every sense of the word.
Do ya ever think that maybe Fido has this ole world best figgered out?
Forgive, forget, and eagerly welcome any and all companion attention.
Makes ya think the good Lord's design for a dawg's life might not be that shabby for us mere mortals.
Spend half a day with him in constant contact, go in the bunkhouse for a spell, and when ya go back out he reacts like you are a long lost soul mate he has not seen in years.
Swat him on the nose for some inane indiscretion and he will shamefully retire to his "house". Let a few minutes elapse and he will emerge like it is a new world and all is good.
Keep the dawg food dispenser loaded, douse a spot or two of cold water in his bowl, scratch his head, and he is in heaven in every sense of the word.
Do ya ever think that maybe Fido has this ole world best figgered out?
Forgive, forget, and eagerly welcome any and all companion attention.
Makes ya think the good Lord's design for a dawg's life might not be that shabby for us mere mortals.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Easter Eve
The dawn sun rays of this ranch morning revealed a blue blanket in the front pasture compliments of eager bluebonnets praising the glory of life, death, resurrection and Easter eve.
The air is crisp, no breeze, and nary a cloud with the audacity to show its marshmallow face.
A walk to the front gate for the obligatory newspaper pilgrimage included the enthusiastic trumpet of the river bottom turkey toms challenging all comers on the opening day of spring turkey hunting season.
Add the joyous bounding of the ranch dawg seeking only the reward of his "alpha's" touch, the distant coo of the resident doves, and the blossoming promise of live oak leaves budding on the myriad acres of trees.
One knows in the bowels of their heart that He shall arise on the next morn and forever provide for the salvation of believers' souls.
Life is good and the ole ranch hand is eternally grateful.
The air is crisp, no breeze, and nary a cloud with the audacity to show its marshmallow face.
A walk to the front gate for the obligatory newspaper pilgrimage included the enthusiastic trumpet of the river bottom turkey toms challenging all comers on the opening day of spring turkey hunting season.
Add the joyous bounding of the ranch dawg seeking only the reward of his "alpha's" touch, the distant coo of the resident doves, and the blossoming promise of live oak leaves budding on the myriad acres of trees.
One knows in the bowels of their heart that He shall arise on the next morn and forever provide for the salvation of believers' souls.
Life is good and the ole ranch hand is eternally grateful.
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