"Build ye houses, and dwell in them; and plant gardens, and eat the fruit of them." Jeremiah 29:5
The ranch hand planted okra, onions, cucumbers, garlic, zuchini, and pole beans in the garden this beautiful weekend.
Yeah, the ground temperature ain't right and another frost or two will occur, but it was just somethin' that needed doin'?
There is something indescribable about the pleasure in planting a seed, nurturing its growth, and ultimately feasting on the harvest.
There ain't no ambition to ever rival the garden magic of Grandaddy, but I reckon he would be OK with his grandson poking a seed or two in the ground to carry on the legacy.
Now why are those damn deer back in the brush licking their lips so enthusiastically?
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Barn Time
There are ways that a barn is a church.
It provides peace and distraction from the unpleasant...it can make one feel distant from the less enjoyable aspects of the world.
The smells are therapeutic...for a man, the tools therein are objects of escape...and the escape facilitated is an experience that never denies the beauty of manly pursuits........
One can weld steel, delicately influence the grain of wood, or putter about with the tools of a wannabe engine mechanic....sans the evaluative eye of an "expert".
The ranch hand spent the balance of this fine day ensconced in the protective web of the resident barn grinnin' prodigiously whilst finishin' a welding/wood project extraordinaire.
Ain't life good!....Got 'er done...and feel better for the process?
Ya gotta love blessed BARN TIME!
It provides peace and distraction from the unpleasant...it can make one feel distant from the less enjoyable aspects of the world.
The smells are therapeutic...for a man, the tools therein are objects of escape...and the escape facilitated is an experience that never denies the beauty of manly pursuits........
One can weld steel, delicately influence the grain of wood, or putter about with the tools of a wannabe engine mechanic....sans the evaluative eye of an "expert".
The ranch hand spent the balance of this fine day ensconced in the protective web of the resident barn grinnin' prodigiously whilst finishin' a welding/wood project extraordinaire.
Ain't life good!....Got 'er done...and feel better for the process?
Ya gotta love blessed BARN TIME!
Sunday, February 20, 2011
FARM AUCTION STUFF
The ranch hand enjoys attending farm auctions.
The unique aspect of farm auctions is that they represent an opportunity to view in one giant pile the accumulation of a family's entire life.
Everyone spends their time on earth collecting "stuff". The volume, character, and value of the stuff varies, but we all do it.
It is only when it is all sorted out and placed on public view that one can weigh that which is valued sufficiently by the former owners to keep.
Farm auctions always by definition include old tractors with their faithful toil evidenced by a comfortable worn look in every regard. Utilitarian trailers of every size and configuration are mandatory and odd pieces of iron will be everywhere as broken stuff don't necessarily mean useless for future purposes?
Hand tools will lay about as if just employed by the late owner. Egg collection baskets, mason jars, and salt/pepper shakers are the rule. Knick knacks, baubles, and other less glamorous memorabilia will dot the landscape inevitably.
Through it all, the ranch hand always stops to ponder the life of the individuals who have passed to Glory, leaving behind their worldly possessions to the mere mortals at the auction block.
The items bartered are just "stuff" to the bidders. Beyond that, the inanimate objects being sold are part and parcel to the loves, laughs, longevity, and living of the farm family that accumulated the wealth over a lifetime.
Let us never forget their part in the world we continue to enjoy.
The unique aspect of farm auctions is that they represent an opportunity to view in one giant pile the accumulation of a family's entire life.
Everyone spends their time on earth collecting "stuff". The volume, character, and value of the stuff varies, but we all do it.
It is only when it is all sorted out and placed on public view that one can weigh that which is valued sufficiently by the former owners to keep.
Farm auctions always by definition include old tractors with their faithful toil evidenced by a comfortable worn look in every regard. Utilitarian trailers of every size and configuration are mandatory and odd pieces of iron will be everywhere as broken stuff don't necessarily mean useless for future purposes?
Hand tools will lay about as if just employed by the late owner. Egg collection baskets, mason jars, and salt/pepper shakers are the rule. Knick knacks, baubles, and other less glamorous memorabilia will dot the landscape inevitably.
Through it all, the ranch hand always stops to ponder the life of the individuals who have passed to Glory, leaving behind their worldly possessions to the mere mortals at the auction block.
The items bartered are just "stuff" to the bidders. Beyond that, the inanimate objects being sold are part and parcel to the loves, laughs, longevity, and living of the farm family that accumulated the wealth over a lifetime.
Let us never forget their part in the world we continue to enjoy.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Planting For The Future
And the tree of the field shall yield her fruit, and the earth shall yield her increase, and they shall be safe in their land, and shall know that I am the Lord. (Ezekiel 34:27)
The ole fat boy purchased and planted a Choctaw hybrid pecan tree on the Tin Star ranch today.
It weren't no simple task.
The beloved ranch only grudgingly gives up shovels of "dirt" as it is honey combed with innumerable limestone rocks that are the very devil to dig thru?
After a lengthy spell of pounding on the ground to make a large enough "hole" to accept the offering of future bounty, the old one carefully placed the future shade in its new resting place.
There ain't no hopes/dreams of this being a bounty of pecan goodies for the planter. This is about the grandkids.
When this leafy arboreal flora produces its earthly fruit offering in the years to come, the hope is that the ranch hands progeny will make a pilgrimage to Tin Star, gather and consume the pecans during a fall month, and remember the feller that planted it for them.
Bless us O' Lord for these our most bountiful gifts.
The ole fat boy purchased and planted a Choctaw hybrid pecan tree on the Tin Star ranch today.
It weren't no simple task.
The beloved ranch only grudgingly gives up shovels of "dirt" as it is honey combed with innumerable limestone rocks that are the very devil to dig thru?
After a lengthy spell of pounding on the ground to make a large enough "hole" to accept the offering of future bounty, the old one carefully placed the future shade in its new resting place.
There ain't no hopes/dreams of this being a bounty of pecan goodies for the planter. This is about the grandkids.
When this leafy arboreal flora produces its earthly fruit offering in the years to come, the hope is that the ranch hands progeny will make a pilgrimage to Tin Star, gather and consume the pecans during a fall month, and remember the feller that planted it for them.
Bless us O' Lord for these our most bountiful gifts.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Sacred Memories
We inherit from our ancestry gifts so often taken for granted. Each of us contains within us this inheritance of soul. We are links between the ages, containing past and present expectations, sacred memories, and future promise.
(Edward Sellner)
The ranch hand's genetic stock is apportioned equally between the Waller and the Williamson clan.
It is an intoxicating (and eclectic) mix of outrageous behavior tendencies, fierce family protectiveness, and pure country roots.
The generational stories are replete with a mixture of self-destructive adventures flavored by kinship loyalty beyond compare, especially where young uns' were concerned.
The "gifts" are to be acknowledged with heart felt gratitude and thanks to the Savior.
The less than desirable weaknesses of mortal flesh are to be equally acknowledged, but with prayer that peace with the past can be had in order to best enjoy and prosper in the present.
Let us treasure the sacred memories while reaching toward the promise of continued family love for future generations.
(Edward Sellner)
The ranch hand's genetic stock is apportioned equally between the Waller and the Williamson clan.
It is an intoxicating (and eclectic) mix of outrageous behavior tendencies, fierce family protectiveness, and pure country roots.
The generational stories are replete with a mixture of self-destructive adventures flavored by kinship loyalty beyond compare, especially where young uns' were concerned.
The "gifts" are to be acknowledged with heart felt gratitude and thanks to the Savior.
The less than desirable weaknesses of mortal flesh are to be equally acknowledged, but with prayer that peace with the past can be had in order to best enjoy and prosper in the present.
Let us treasure the sacred memories while reaching toward the promise of continued family love for future generations.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Yard Sale Boats
The only boat Dad ever owned was a fourteen foot, flat bottom aluminum puppy. Mom used her "credit" to buy him a 9.9 HP outboard motor at Sears and Roebuck and they were in business.
The venerable fishing craft was used to putt around Tyler Lake and the Sabine River for a few years and then the ole ranch hand bought the prized ship from Dad.
After enjoying yachting pleasure for a time on Texarkana and Caddo Lake, the would be sailor traded up for a fifteen foot fiberglass Kingfisher with a 25 HP Johnson engine. Years of joyful excursions occurred until such time as the veteran seafarer determined that it was appropriate to advance to the big leagues.
That's right sports fans, 21 feet of streamlined swiftness with a 125 HP screamer that would part the water with nuthin' but the prop getting wet as it tiptoed across the landscape. At least it would do that between repairs. It seems the more powerful/sophisticated the machinery, the deeper one's wallet must reach.
Sadly, after a few years of constant expense, the old salt clipped his water wings, sold the speed demon to a lucky soul (sucker) and became land locked for a couple of decades.....until last Saturday!
While cruising the local country byways, a yard sale appeared on the horizon. Amongst the normal uninteresting crap, the fat boy spied the most beautiful (dented, ragged, worn) fourteen foot flat bottom aluminum boat one could imagine.
Country negotiations sealed the deal at $75. The rest is history as the venerable tub now proudly sails the fish infested waters of the Tin Star Sea (pond).
Dad would be proud.
The venerable fishing craft was used to putt around Tyler Lake and the Sabine River for a few years and then the ole ranch hand bought the prized ship from Dad.
After enjoying yachting pleasure for a time on Texarkana and Caddo Lake, the would be sailor traded up for a fifteen foot fiberglass Kingfisher with a 25 HP Johnson engine. Years of joyful excursions occurred until such time as the veteran seafarer determined that it was appropriate to advance to the big leagues.
That's right sports fans, 21 feet of streamlined swiftness with a 125 HP screamer that would part the water with nuthin' but the prop getting wet as it tiptoed across the landscape. At least it would do that between repairs. It seems the more powerful/sophisticated the machinery, the deeper one's wallet must reach.
Sadly, after a few years of constant expense, the old salt clipped his water wings, sold the speed demon to a lucky soul (sucker) and became land locked for a couple of decades.....until last Saturday!
While cruising the local country byways, a yard sale appeared on the horizon. Amongst the normal uninteresting crap, the fat boy spied the most beautiful (dented, ragged, worn) fourteen foot flat bottom aluminum boat one could imagine.
Country negotiations sealed the deal at $75. The rest is history as the venerable tub now proudly sails the fish infested waters of the Tin Star Sea (pond).
Dad would be proud.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)