"I appeal to you as a soldier to spare me the humiliation of seeing my regiment march to meet the enemy and I not share its dangers" (George Armstrong Custer)
The ranch hand has toiled in the garden of the ranch pond for nigh on eight years to raise a decent crop of bass, bream, and channel catfish.
Other than a scourge of locusts, most ever thing else has befell that ever so humble endeavor.
We be talkin' drought, turtles, snakes, predatory birds, racoons, and WEEDS!!!!
This annum, the weeds have gone steroidal, rampant, and homicidal as they have gorged on the pond nutrients to the point of fiber explosion.
E'nuff is e'nuff.
The ranch hand oozled off to "town" this fine day and secured some scientifically proven (yeah right?) liquified dynamite to ee-lim-nate the offending party.
Generously "shared" said cocktail with the "guests" this day, said a prayer (for their comfortable, but SWIFT death) and await the final results?
Now join me breathen as we say, "Bless their hearts" (not)
Thursday, May 31, 2012
FRIENDSHIP
Lots of things change in life.
The ranch hand's ubiquitous body build has somehow expanded in some places, fallen in unfortunate areas, and wrinkled beyond belief in others????
Beloved family members are gone, but not forgotten....treasured for their wisdom, contributions....and their love.
The world has somehow evolved cell phones (some smart...some Wright City dumb..like mine), computers, HD television (we had only channel 7 in B/W), and a myriad of scientific gibberish that an ole fat boy could never fathom?
Some things never change.
Starting first grade, the ranch hand made some friendships thru the various public school grades that have lasted for the long run....55 years and counting on a few. That is a measure of wealth that can not be denied.
On occasion, an ole buddy rises from the ashes of your humble scribe's senility and re-awakens that kinship of a shared past.
Thank you, GLNROZ, for that which can be truly valued.
The ranch hand's ubiquitous body build has somehow expanded in some places, fallen in unfortunate areas, and wrinkled beyond belief in others????
Beloved family members are gone, but not forgotten....treasured for their wisdom, contributions....and their love.
The world has somehow evolved cell phones (some smart...some Wright City dumb..like mine), computers, HD television (we had only channel 7 in B/W), and a myriad of scientific gibberish that an ole fat boy could never fathom?
Some things never change.
Starting first grade, the ranch hand made some friendships thru the various public school grades that have lasted for the long run....55 years and counting on a few. That is a measure of wealth that can not be denied.
On occasion, an ole buddy rises from the ashes of your humble scribe's senility and re-awakens that kinship of a shared past.
Thank you, GLNROZ, for that which can be truly valued.
Fire and Brimstone
"Upon the wicked He shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and a horrible tempest, this shall be the portion of their cup." (Psalm 11:6)
Never let it be said that the ranch hand does not sleep soundly for a least a few winks per night.
Last night being no different, the ole fat boy hit the designated snooze pad bout 10PM and went into blessed oblivion.
At some unknown point beyond the know meridians....the good Lord reckoned it was time to wake up the gray haired fat man and do a bit of spring cleaning on the Tin Star Ranch.... and thus it was so.
Sports fans, we is talkin' "snares and fire" (thunder/roar), "brimstone" (lightnin' on steroids) and "a horrible tempest" from hell (AKA brute force wind).
Needless to say, this morn's cheery greeting include downed trees, limbs cast akimbo, everything inside the "yard"....outside the "yard" (some of which left the county).
God's will be done!
We are now cleansed....our palette is refreshed...and we are ready to start anew (Uh....dear Savior...could we maybe hold off on the next "blow" for a few til your humble ranch hand ketches up with the "clean up" on this blessing?
Never let it be said that the ranch hand does not sleep soundly for a least a few winks per night.
Last night being no different, the ole fat boy hit the designated snooze pad bout 10PM and went into blessed oblivion.
At some unknown point beyond the know meridians....the good Lord reckoned it was time to wake up the gray haired fat man and do a bit of spring cleaning on the Tin Star Ranch.... and thus it was so.
Sports fans, we is talkin' "snares and fire" (thunder/roar), "brimstone" (lightnin' on steroids) and "a horrible tempest" from hell (AKA brute force wind).
Needless to say, this morn's cheery greeting include downed trees, limbs cast akimbo, everything inside the "yard"....outside the "yard" (some of which left the county).
God's will be done!
We are now cleansed....our palette is refreshed...and we are ready to start anew (Uh....dear Savior...could we maybe hold off on the next "blow" for a few til your humble ranch hand ketches up with the "clean up" on this blessing?
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The Work of His Hands
“The heavens declare the glory of god; the sky’s proclaim the work of His hands “ (Psalms 19:1)
God’s palette is never better illustrated than at sunset on the ranch.
The melding of pink, blue, gray, and dark hues of every description are beyond comparison or description as they become a muted blend from the horizon to infinity above.
It is but a fleeting glimpse of His glory as the scene changes each moment until it is rendered to mere history.
Mortals could never hope to transcend or duplicate this level of ethereal wonder.
The slowly moving comfort of drowsing clouds, the excited whir of the cicadas from nearby trees, and the calming dark as it settles upon the earth is like a comforting mantle.
Calming in its manner, ever gentle in its delivery.
All is right in the world and the Lord is our Savior.
God’s palette is never better illustrated than at sunset on the ranch.
The melding of pink, blue, gray, and dark hues of every description are beyond comparison or description as they become a muted blend from the horizon to infinity above.
It is but a fleeting glimpse of His glory as the scene changes each moment until it is rendered to mere history.
Mortals could never hope to transcend or duplicate this level of ethereal wonder.
The slowly moving comfort of drowsing clouds, the excited whir of the cicadas from nearby trees, and the calming dark as it settles upon the earth is like a comforting mantle.
Calming in its manner, ever gentle in its delivery.
All is right in the world and the Lord is our Savior.
Crossing the Pond
In Wright City, overseas was referred to as "across the pond" or "across the waters".
If folks got drafted by the military and sent to the hinterlands, yep....they went "across the pond".
The ranch hand and his beautiful bride first crossed that pond in the recent past to spend a sojourn in Spain...(goes without saying...growin' up in Wright City...or Joinerville for that matter...did not prepare a couple of country bumpkins for that experience?).
Week next, the ubiquitous duo will adventure to Maui, Hawaii for a beach safari extraordinaire.
All ya'll pray that our marginal public school education will finally "kick in" and we will find our way back to the ranch in due time??????
If folks got drafted by the military and sent to the hinterlands, yep....they went "across the pond".
The ranch hand and his beautiful bride first crossed that pond in the recent past to spend a sojourn in Spain...(goes without saying...growin' up in Wright City...or Joinerville for that matter...did not prepare a couple of country bumpkins for that experience?).
Week next, the ubiquitous duo will adventure to Maui, Hawaii for a beach safari extraordinaire.
All ya'll pray that our marginal public school education will finally "kick in" and we will find our way back to the ranch in due time??????
OLD LIONS
The ole fat boy been pistol popping for more years than he might like to admit.
Started with the venerable .22 long rifle cartridge, ambled up to a .357 six hole wheel gun...eventually transitioned to a "lectric" shooter (.45 semi-auto), and followed with 9mm, .357 Sig, .40 cal. and .380 (just for extra "seasoning").
The ranch hand's chosen profession required semi-annual proficiency qualification. Either pony up and do the do...or give up the job (obviously no pressure?)
Today marked the 42nd year (started at age "3"...OK, maybe not?) for your humble scribe to toe the line at the firearms range and "compete".
Yeah, time has made the eyes suspect and the hands a mite on the yippy side, but the young'uns on the line got a lesson in humility this day.
Bottom line: Beware of the Old Lions or they may devour your ass when you least expect it.
Started with the venerable .22 long rifle cartridge, ambled up to a .357 six hole wheel gun...eventually transitioned to a "lectric" shooter (.45 semi-auto), and followed with 9mm, .357 Sig, .40 cal. and .380 (just for extra "seasoning").
The ranch hand's chosen profession required semi-annual proficiency qualification. Either pony up and do the do...or give up the job (obviously no pressure?)
Today marked the 42nd year (started at age "3"...OK, maybe not?) for your humble scribe to toe the line at the firearms range and "compete".
Yeah, time has made the eyes suspect and the hands a mite on the yippy side, but the young'uns on the line got a lesson in humility this day.
Bottom line: Beware of the Old Lions or they may devour your ass when you least expect it.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
The Renewal of Life
The bride and I strolled to the ranch pond about an hour after dawn this morn to feed the catfish in the early cool.
At the spillway end of the tank we saw a fawn in its first moments of life as it struggled to stand and take its first wobbling steps.
After a few brave ventures, it sank into the tall grass to gain strength and comtemplate a new world outside the womb.
Life renews each spring on the ranch and we are but the grateful recipients of its bounty.
At the spillway end of the tank we saw a fawn in its first moments of life as it struggled to stand and take its first wobbling steps.
After a few brave ventures, it sank into the tall grass to gain strength and comtemplate a new world outside the womb.
Life renews each spring on the ranch and we are but the grateful recipients of its bounty.
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