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?
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
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.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Flickers and Curls
Thunder is the sound made by lightning.
The sudden increase in pressure and temperature from lightning produces rapid expansion of the air surrounding and within a bolt of lightning. In turn, this expansion of air creates a sonic shock wave which produces the sound of thunder. (Wikipedia)
That's actually a pretty boring explanation.
As the ole fat boy sits in the pre-dawn darkness of his ranch office this morn and listens to the storm passing thru, those claps, cracks, and booms sound anything but boring?
A more likely explanation requires the air to conspire creation of a rumble in our heads. A sound that obscures the dark rolling clouds in order to make way for the flickers and curls of the following lightning.
It is like a hot breath, followed by sweet, hard rain which cools the heat of the bright fire in the sky.
Random thoughts from a country philosopher for what they are worth?
The sudden increase in pressure and temperature from lightning produces rapid expansion of the air surrounding and within a bolt of lightning. In turn, this expansion of air creates a sonic shock wave which produces the sound of thunder. (Wikipedia)
That's actually a pretty boring explanation.
As the ole fat boy sits in the pre-dawn darkness of his ranch office this morn and listens to the storm passing thru, those claps, cracks, and booms sound anything but boring?
A more likely explanation requires the air to conspire creation of a rumble in our heads. A sound that obscures the dark rolling clouds in order to make way for the flickers and curls of the following lightning.
It is like a hot breath, followed by sweet, hard rain which cools the heat of the bright fire in the sky.
Random thoughts from a country philosopher for what they are worth?
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Beer Butt Chicken
Good day today.
Warm sun, blue sky, no wind. Spring is awesome.
Cut some brush, stacked it on the burn pile in the back forty, admired the improvement in the "view".
Adding bodacious "beer butt" chicken slow cooked on the grill to the tune of a cold adult beverage just made it better.
Ya gotta love it!
Warm sun, blue sky, no wind. Spring is awesome.
Cut some brush, stacked it on the burn pile in the back forty, admired the improvement in the "view".
Adding bodacious "beer butt" chicken slow cooked on the grill to the tune of a cold adult beverage just made it better.
Ya gotta love it!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Bunkhouse Weeds
Gardening requires lots of water - most of it in the form of perspiration.
(Lou Erickson)
Last weekend, the bride and the ole fat ranch hand went tooth and toenail after the forest jungle of weeds in the flower beds around the bunkhouse. (Then took two days off for the ache/pains to subside enough to contemplate the next "move"?)
This morn's dawn invoked the soothing auditory blanket of rain as it cascaded from the roof onto the ground. The heaven sent moisture peppered thru the budding tree leaves and whispered to the fallen leaves below in order to softly wick to the thirsty soil.
The cycle of nature continues thru its millennial journey of seasons. Life is renewing.
This week the ritual planting of the Tin Star vegetable garden shall occur thus signalling the onset of our annual waltz with voracious deer, invading insects, and the ever pending specter of drought.
Ya gotta reckon that a safe bet is a man should never plant a garden bigger than his wife can take care of?
(Lou Erickson)
Last weekend, the bride and the ole fat ranch hand went tooth and toenail after the forest jungle of weeds in the flower beds around the bunkhouse. (Then took two days off for the ache/pains to subside enough to contemplate the next "move"?)
This morn's dawn invoked the soothing auditory blanket of rain as it cascaded from the roof onto the ground. The heaven sent moisture peppered thru the budding tree leaves and whispered to the fallen leaves below in order to softly wick to the thirsty soil.
The cycle of nature continues thru its millennial journey of seasons. Life is renewing.
This week the ritual planting of the Tin Star vegetable garden shall occur thus signalling the onset of our annual waltz with voracious deer, invading insects, and the ever pending specter of drought.
Ya gotta reckon that a safe bet is a man should never plant a garden bigger than his wife can take care of?
Monday, March 15, 2010
Life Is Good!
Fishin' was a passion for the ole ranch hand for as far back as he can remember.
Awesome summer days spent in total bliss without care or a sense of the passage of time.
Just a young boy, some crude angling paraphernalia, and free bait worms dug from the rich soil or grasshoppers captured amid the pasture grass. Watch that cork disappear, feel the throbbing surge of the wriggling varmit on the opposite end, and life was good.
Never "owned" a fishing place. Just always dreamed of it.
Near bout four years ago the Tin Star became home. It came with a pond of sorts, but it was silted in from eons of drainage down the creek bed and overgrown with brush.
Finally scraped together enough coins to have the tank cleaned out and reshaped only to find central Texas in drought (think dusty dry pond).
Started raining a few months back and has steady rained since to the point that the pond has been flowing over the spillway for quite a spell.
Now the good part: Went to the feed store in Florence this morn and ordered 100 hybrid bluegill bream, 100 hybrid bass, and about 500 fathead minnows for delivery in about three weeks. Yeah, they will only be 3-4 inches long to start, but it will be a life long dream fulfilled.
Life is good, JRM!
Awesome summer days spent in total bliss without care or a sense of the passage of time.
Just a young boy, some crude angling paraphernalia, and free bait worms dug from the rich soil or grasshoppers captured amid the pasture grass. Watch that cork disappear, feel the throbbing surge of the wriggling varmit on the opposite end, and life was good.
Never "owned" a fishing place. Just always dreamed of it.
Near bout four years ago the Tin Star became home. It came with a pond of sorts, but it was silted in from eons of drainage down the creek bed and overgrown with brush.
Finally scraped together enough coins to have the tank cleaned out and reshaped only to find central Texas in drought (think dusty dry pond).
Started raining a few months back and has steady rained since to the point that the pond has been flowing over the spillway for quite a spell.
Now the good part: Went to the feed store in Florence this morn and ordered 100 hybrid bluegill bream, 100 hybrid bass, and about 500 fathead minnows for delivery in about three weeks. Yeah, they will only be 3-4 inches long to start, but it will be a life long dream fulfilled.
Life is good, JRM!
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Brush Dancing
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd of had to miss the dance (Garth Brooks)
The ole ranch hand lucked into purchase of the Tin Star mid-year 2006. At that time, the Star was a brush infested jungle of cedar, oaks, elm, and steroid induced briers.
Now comes four years later after untold hours of sweat, blood, aggravation, and the pure joy of temporarily taming the "beast".
Sweat: Try July/August on the business end of a chain saw with no breeze in sight?
Blood: The old fat boy has a "wound" down the side of his neck this morn from the brush biting back yesterday while engaged in the act of doing battle with nature (and the total "wound" count is legendary).
Aggravation: Run a good chain saw on large timber all day long and it will sing. Ease it into small brush and watch it disintegrate before your eyes. True story, brush will eat a chain saw, spit it out, and stomp on the operator?
Joy: Ain't nuthin' better than sittin' back with a cold adult beverage at the end of a hard day and experiencing the visual pleasure of measuring one's progress in concert with the land.
Yeah, it's just "dancing" since the spring rains will bring the brush back with a vengeance, but simple pleasures are the best kind when one has no intention of ever "finishing" the job (and it amply makes the pain worthwhile!).
I could have missed the pain
But I'd of had to miss the dance (Garth Brooks)
The ole ranch hand lucked into purchase of the Tin Star mid-year 2006. At that time, the Star was a brush infested jungle of cedar, oaks, elm, and steroid induced briers.
Now comes four years later after untold hours of sweat, blood, aggravation, and the pure joy of temporarily taming the "beast".
Sweat: Try July/August on the business end of a chain saw with no breeze in sight?
Blood: The old fat boy has a "wound" down the side of his neck this morn from the brush biting back yesterday while engaged in the act of doing battle with nature (and the total "wound" count is legendary).
Aggravation: Run a good chain saw on large timber all day long and it will sing. Ease it into small brush and watch it disintegrate before your eyes. True story, brush will eat a chain saw, spit it out, and stomp on the operator?
Joy: Ain't nuthin' better than sittin' back with a cold adult beverage at the end of a hard day and experiencing the visual pleasure of measuring one's progress in concert with the land.
Yeah, it's just "dancing" since the spring rains will bring the brush back with a vengeance, but simple pleasures are the best kind when one has no intention of ever "finishing" the job (and it amply makes the pain worthwhile!).
Monday, March 1, 2010
CHICK FLICKS
The ranch hand's bride absolutely LOVES going to the moving picture shows. The ranch hand mostly don't because:
1. The beautiful child bride chooses "chick flicks" almost exclusively.
2. The ranch hand's bladder will no longer endure an entire feature film without relief.
3. The price of the theater groceries would make my Wright City dad swaller his chaw.
4. The "dark" in there makes negotiating the stairs a "trip" (remember the bladder?).
5. The best part is when it is over.
Of course they is advantages:
1. I gets to sit by the most beautiful woman in the world and hold her hand.
2. The bladder thing gives me the excuse to walk around in the lobby a couple times per show.
3. I can eat two gallons of butter soaked pop corn and nobody seems to care.
4. It is so dark nobody can see the ole fat boy "fidgeting".
5. The best part is when it is over.
The bottom line: Going to movies with the wife is a romantic dating ritual that I hope never ends!
1. The beautiful child bride chooses "chick flicks" almost exclusively.
2. The ranch hand's bladder will no longer endure an entire feature film without relief.
3. The price of the theater groceries would make my Wright City dad swaller his chaw.
4. The "dark" in there makes negotiating the stairs a "trip" (remember the bladder?).
5. The best part is when it is over.
Of course they is advantages:
1. I gets to sit by the most beautiful woman in the world and hold her hand.
2. The bladder thing gives me the excuse to walk around in the lobby a couple times per show.
3. I can eat two gallons of butter soaked pop corn and nobody seems to care.
4. It is so dark nobody can see the ole fat boy "fidgeting".
5. The best part is when it is over.
The bottom line: Going to movies with the wife is a romantic dating ritual that I hope never ends!
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