Southbound on 37, the sun rising on one side, the stars still piercing the windshield on the other and I pop the lid off. The steam rolls over my face and the smell fills me up like a warm soup. Coffee tastes better on Thursday. And for some reason the smell hit me square in the sniffer.
It didn't stop there. The entire day was filled with it. Have you ever smelled a yearling foals breath - strangely fresh, and it almost speaks to you. Or, Durasect? Most of you won't know that it's a biting-fly and tick repellent for cattle and horses. The smell is, well, unique to say the least.
And horse hide. It's like a babies skin. It smells the same every time. You can't describe it, because it only smells like it smells. Nothing compares.
The afternoon found us in the bottom of the Medio Creek.
Water Gaps.
Rain is good. But they are always followed by a good dose of water gap fixing. As the business end of an ax meets the top of a steel post, plenty of heat is generated. Maybe it's the heat. Or maybe it's just the t-post letting the ground protest our unceasing drive to have everything our way. In any case, it smells. Not unlike the branding iron on flesh, it has a very unique aroma. Very, very faint and just as brief, but it was there. Just to let you know of it's disapproval.
Once we got the gap back up, we headed back to the headquarters. Weaning colts and working mares filled our morning. Things are still pretty wet down there, so the water gap fixing closed up our afternoon and we shut down a little early.
I stopped by my grandparents house and found a wonderful surprise. More peppers - straight from the garden and zipped up into two Ziploc bags waiting for me to take them home. I couldn't resist. I lifted the bag, unzipped it and lifted some more. Then I opened it and plunged my head into the bag like we did in the water at the creek when we got to hot. Wow. That smell is one of a kind. Regardless of the fact that I definitely breached the pepper's personal space, as was made apparent by my watering eyes and choked up throat, there was no regret.
The bouquet, though not from a fine wine, or liqueur, was bold, earthy and unique in it's own spactac-ulocity-ness. ;)
Everyone has a lineup of fragrances that could tell the story of their lives. The smells that, together, can describe why you are you. Find them. Why do I know exactly what a trimmed hoof smells like? And the inside of the Zachary Engineering Building's server room?
Don't wake up and smell the roses. Wake up and smell those things that you've been put here to smell. Inspiration will overtake you.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The Times
Not even three weeks ago Bee County was right in the middle of one of the worst droughts in history. Not recent history. History. Period.
Comparisons were made to the drought of the 50's and there was even some video covering the situation that appeared on CNN. Now, I'm not saying we're out of it yet, because we're not yet. But, things are definitely changing.
Last Thursday we just turned cattle out. We shaped up a set of heifers at the main pens and then turned them out. We penned a set of bulls and cut one old shipper out of the group and then turned them out, too. Mick and Dick eased down to the arena and turned the roping cattle out. That picture above is of them letting the dogs work the roping steers a little before heading back to the ranch. It's wet. J.M. even decided to turn out some cattle he had trapped that were supposed to have gotten worked that afternoon. It's real wet. ;)
Watching it rain is something that truly moves me - the sound, the smell, the knowledge of what it does for the country I love... and that I'm certain loves me. It's unexplainable.
And then we watched the grass grow. Really, you could almost watch it grow. It's always been said that South Texas country is strong country. It comes back fast after a dry spell. And the folks who live down there have had plenty of dry spells to know what the country does after getting a little drink. It's fascinating.
Dirt.
Dirt is what this post has to do with "The Times". There are a couple of things that have come to me lately for various reasons:
- There are no good times.
- There are no bad times.
There are just times.
I always thought of this verse - Genesis 3:19 ...for dust you are and to dust you will return. - as a command meant to keep you grounded. (no pun intended) However, remembering that we are dust has recently brought encouragement.
During droughts, the dirt just waits. There's no complaining about the lack of water, seeds, nitrogen, etc. There's no wishing it were sand in Tahiti instead of dirt in Bee County. Dirt waits. It does it's job of providing a floor for the world. And it waits.
And then it rains. There's absolutely no time wasted. Dirt produces like it's never had a chance to produce before. It gives it everything it's got. Weeds? Yep get to growing. Grass? Yep. You, too, get to growing. There's no complaining about growing corn instead of wheat. Or pineapples. Or, whatever. Our creator delivers us exactly what we need - when we need it.
So don't think of the bad times as bad times. You know what? You need those times to become the person you need to be tomorrow, or next year. And it works both ways. Don't think of the good times as good times. You simply need those times to become the person you need to be tomorrow, or next year, as well.
It's hard to wait. It's hard to understand that a "bad time" purpose may be just as important as a "good time" purpose. That's why it's important to embrace the times. Period. Because guess what? More droughts are coming. And more rain.
Friday, September 11, 2009
For love of the game...
The pitch came on the rise, probably around 60-70 miles per hour. The batter, though, was focused, dug in and started to bring his hips around. His shoulders followed and the swing brought his hands through to rip one straight for the hole between second base and the second baseman.
Shortstop was idle. On the balls of his feet and prepared to go in any direction... quickly, he had his glove up, eyes up and spirits up.
The second baseman broke for the ball and made the stop. Shortstop, as well as the base runner on first, had already made their break for the second base bag. A quick toss from the second baseman sent the ball floating somewhere above second base rather than sailing into center field.
The shortstop deftly stepped behind the bag while catching the ball, drug his foot across it and fired it back to first and never broke stride.
Two down. Inning's over.
Sounds like a routine double play for any shortstop. Although, they make it look much easier than it is. But this wasn't just any shortstop playing ball. It was my Dad. And he's 57 years old.
Every time I tell a buddy that Dad had a game, they're incredulous. Hell most of them have been telling me that they're too old to keep playing and most of them are in their thirties.
Morgan's refusal to slowdown is becoming somewhat of a local legend. He has friends he grew up playing baseball with that go to the park to watch their boys play against Morgan. And you should hear the trash talk flyin'. ;)
He watched me play ball all the way through high school. But my days in Little League came rushing at me while I sat in the stands last Sunday morning.
Oh, how our perspective changes. I can't begin to count how many games my Dad and I spent in the reverse roll - him sitting in the stands hoping that the double play goes smoothly and me busting my rear trying to turn it. It was about time I was on the other side - paying back some of the support he had offered me so many times before.
That field was covered with men who truly - truly - understood and appreciated the game.
Little Leaguers are just figuring out the importance of winning. The group that I had the privilege of watching... was just starting to forget.
Somewhere in the middle we get focused on the wrong parts of life. Take a deep breath. Enjoy the game.
Shortstop was idle. On the balls of his feet and prepared to go in any direction... quickly, he had his glove up, eyes up and spirits up.
The second baseman broke for the ball and made the stop. Shortstop, as well as the base runner on first, had already made their break for the second base bag. A quick toss from the second baseman sent the ball floating somewhere above second base rather than sailing into center field.
The shortstop deftly stepped behind the bag while catching the ball, drug his foot across it and fired it back to first and never broke stride.
Two down. Inning's over.
Sounds like a routine double play for any shortstop. Although, they make it look much easier than it is. But this wasn't just any shortstop playing ball. It was my Dad. And he's 57 years old.
Every time I tell a buddy that Dad had a game, they're incredulous. Hell most of them have been telling me that they're too old to keep playing and most of them are in their thirties.
Morgan's refusal to slowdown is becoming somewhat of a local legend. He has friends he grew up playing baseball with that go to the park to watch their boys play against Morgan. And you should hear the trash talk flyin'. ;)
He watched me play ball all the way through high school. But my days in Little League came rushing at me while I sat in the stands last Sunday morning.
Oh, how our perspective changes. I can't begin to count how many games my Dad and I spent in the reverse roll - him sitting in the stands hoping that the double play goes smoothly and me busting my rear trying to turn it. It was about time I was on the other side - paying back some of the support he had offered me so many times before.
That field was covered with men who truly - truly - understood and appreciated the game.
Little Leaguers are just figuring out the importance of winning. The group that I had the privilege of watching... was just starting to forget.
Somewhere in the middle we get focused on the wrong parts of life. Take a deep breath. Enjoy the game.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
God Sucks?
Sometimes life throws things at us that we aren't even close to being ready for. They're seemingly out of the blue, or left field, or nowhere... Or out of wherever life's temptations, trials and tribulations come from.
Mellow Yellow was two years old. He could turn around pretty good, he loved to stop and he was gentle, gentle, gentle. You could already heel steers on him out of the box. And head steers and log them off while pen roping. This all sounds like alot for a two-year-old - It is. He was smart. He learned everything the first time and didn't forget much of anything. He was just easy. He was laid back. He was Mellow. He died August 27, 2009.
This is Iceman. His real name is Pay Days Mr Quincy. He was a five year old stallion that was just getting finished up as a calf roping horse. He was solid. He was a statue in the box, ran to the hole every trip and man he could really stop. He stopped so smooth that sometimes you couldn't even tell if he was stopping yet... and then he got to the end of his stop and you knew it, quick. He was just taking the chance to show off a little bit until it was time to bring everything to a screeching halt. He won third in the Open Calf Roping at the very first show he was ever entered. In his second show, he won it. He died September 4, 2009.
Barely one week apart the only two stallions in training here were gone. And horses here don't get to continue being stallions unless they're just a little bit different than most nice horses. These guys were special. Their temperament, appearance, and ability set them apart. So what the hell is the deal?
Sometime between the fourth and fifth of September, so just a day or two ago, Barbie opened her chest up while turned out. I've walked the pasture three times and can't find the place where it happened. It should be pretty obvious since her injury is extensive. Luckily, the vet got her sown up very well and she should be just fine. But that's not what concerns me. What concerns me is Who's next?.
Fr. Ed delivered a message a while back that reminded us that we need to seek a more personal relationship with Our Lord Jesus Christ. During this message he talked about being angry with Him. Anger towards God is not condemnable, it's completely normal behavior for any healthy relationship he said.
Well, then right now I'm pretty damn normal. I was furious. Anger consumed me. The expertise behind the recommendations for the feed we chose, the resources my family utilized to keep these horses in training, the time I spent with these horses everyday, the majesty that these animals project and respect that they deserve... meant nothing. The injured filly will hopefully be back in action soon, but two - in one week - left us and will never be seen again. What the hell kind of purpose, meaning, lessons, etc. can you garner from that?
I'll admit it. I wanted to title this post "God Sucks!" rather than God Sucks?, but you know what, God is the only pure thing we can find. It's not our job to understand. I'll repeat that, because I'm still working to wrap my head around it. It's not our job to understand.
He was impressive to say the least. He was unlike any other. He was steady, always. His demeanor never ceased to amaze me, regardless of others you put around him. And now he's dead. This is no longer about horses. It's Christ. God lost his only son. Does that mean God sucks? How could it? I can not even start to imagine that kind of pain. Surely if it weren't necessary, it would not have happened. I am beginning to appreciate the fact that God does not create situations so much as He utilizes those situations. His purpose requires certain things that we will never understand, but we aren't expected to.
We were created in God's image. God is a worker. We are created to be active. And God blessed each and every one of us with passions and talents for certain things in order to guide us in choosing what it is that will be blessed by our actions. So we are expected to persevere. To Love. To Work. To Connect. To Continue.
Life is rarely warm and fuzzy. And sometimes it hurts... alot, and is utterly unexplainable. But that simply means that sometimes life's circumstances suck. God does not. Rest peacefully knowing that it's OK to be angry with Him. Then, take a deep breath and instead of asking Why? ask What's Next?.
Mellow Yellow was two years old. He could turn around pretty good, he loved to stop and he was gentle, gentle, gentle. You could already heel steers on him out of the box. And head steers and log them off while pen roping. This all sounds like alot for a two-year-old - It is. He was smart. He learned everything the first time and didn't forget much of anything. He was just easy. He was laid back. He was Mellow. He died August 27, 2009.
This is Iceman. His real name is Pay Days Mr Quincy. He was a five year old stallion that was just getting finished up as a calf roping horse. He was solid. He was a statue in the box, ran to the hole every trip and man he could really stop. He stopped so smooth that sometimes you couldn't even tell if he was stopping yet... and then he got to the end of his stop and you knew it, quick. He was just taking the chance to show off a little bit until it was time to bring everything to a screeching halt. He won third in the Open Calf Roping at the very first show he was ever entered. In his second show, he won it. He died September 4, 2009.
Barely one week apart the only two stallions in training here were gone. And horses here don't get to continue being stallions unless they're just a little bit different than most nice horses. These guys were special. Their temperament, appearance, and ability set them apart. So what the hell is the deal?
Sometime between the fourth and fifth of September, so just a day or two ago, Barbie opened her chest up while turned out. I've walked the pasture three times and can't find the place where it happened. It should be pretty obvious since her injury is extensive. Luckily, the vet got her sown up very well and she should be just fine. But that's not what concerns me. What concerns me is Who's next?.
Fr. Ed delivered a message a while back that reminded us that we need to seek a more personal relationship with Our Lord Jesus Christ. During this message he talked about being angry with Him. Anger towards God is not condemnable, it's completely normal behavior for any healthy relationship he said.
Well, then right now I'm pretty damn normal. I was furious. Anger consumed me. The expertise behind the recommendations for the feed we chose, the resources my family utilized to keep these horses in training, the time I spent with these horses everyday, the majesty that these animals project and respect that they deserve... meant nothing. The injured filly will hopefully be back in action soon, but two - in one week - left us and will never be seen again. What the hell kind of purpose, meaning, lessons, etc. can you garner from that?
I'll admit it. I wanted to title this post "God Sucks!" rather than God Sucks?, but you know what, God is the only pure thing we can find. It's not our job to understand. I'll repeat that, because I'm still working to wrap my head around it. It's not our job to understand.
He was impressive to say the least. He was unlike any other. He was steady, always. His demeanor never ceased to amaze me, regardless of others you put around him. And now he's dead. This is no longer about horses. It's Christ. God lost his only son. Does that mean God sucks? How could it? I can not even start to imagine that kind of pain. Surely if it weren't necessary, it would not have happened. I am beginning to appreciate the fact that God does not create situations so much as He utilizes those situations. His purpose requires certain things that we will never understand, but we aren't expected to.
We were created in God's image. God is a worker. We are created to be active. And God blessed each and every one of us with passions and talents for certain things in order to guide us in choosing what it is that will be blessed by our actions. So we are expected to persevere. To Love. To Work. To Connect. To Continue.
Life is rarely warm and fuzzy. And sometimes it hurts... alot, and is utterly unexplainable. But that simply means that sometimes life's circumstances suck. God does not. Rest peacefully knowing that it's OK to be angry with Him. Then, take a deep breath and instead of asking Why? ask What's Next?.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Letting Go
Parenting sucks.This theory doesn't come from personal experience with children. ( my wife and I don't have any, but would like to have some one day ) However, Joe taught me what I can only imagine is an infinitesimal amount of knowledge in regards to parenting over the last several days.
Joe is a calf roping horse and he's the full brother of Quail Bar Quincy, aka Roany. Roany was the horse we won Reserve World Champion on in 2007. '06 or '07, I can't remember, but the point is that I had a certain expectation of Joe before he made it into my barn. And he surpassed them... by far.
Joe was a big-timer. When he arrived, he was already really stopping hard, but he would lose confidence when I left him. He would almost shy away from me as I went by. He worked rope almost in fear. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to keep pulling, stop pulling, put slack in the rope, or what. He just knew he needed to be doing something.
That's why I liked Joe. He was always thinking. He was a very smart animal. I refer to him in the past tense because he left us Friday - I'll get to that in a minute.
I could show that horse something one time and that was it. He had know idea how talented he was. So, I started hauling him to the rodeos and calf ropings to get him seasoned. He worked nervous at the first two. Refugio and George West. Then he settled down and let me win second at a USCRA in Giddings. After that it was smooth sailing. All the people didn't bother him much anymore, although he still had one eye on them at all times.
Well, Cody Harris came and stayed with us a while to try Joe last week. Cody rode a different horse we sold him while qualifying for the National High School Finals. Those of you familiar with the horses at the ranch will recognize 'BH' in the picture. Cody called him 'Snort'. Now Cody is leading the calf roping standings in the PCA and he's looking for a horse that's at a different level. He's a rising star in the calf roping world and a good kid. Well, he's 20 years old so he's on his way out from being a kid I guess.
Joe was a completely different horse under him and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Things were just not right. There are plenty of horses to work here and so we pen roped a little the second day and Cody roped some breakaway on Joe. That's when they started to click. Day three found me watching Cody hold a couple up and spit 'em out even though Joe was hitting the dirt and coming out of it fast and pulling hard. Cody was just a grinnin...
This guy can rope.
And then I realized it for the first time. This calf roping horse was leaving. Cody hadn't told me yet, but I already knew. It made me kind of nervous. Almost sick at my stomach. Day one was not good. And I certainly didn't want them to get all the way back to Alabama and start having trouble.
Joe just has to learn Cody the same as Cody has to learn Joe. The thing is, I'd like to give him a call everyday and let him know... "Well, if he's doing such and such , do this - and if he's doing something else, well try this...."
Joe has the talent. And he knows the routine.
Cody has the talent. And Cody knows the routine.
James just needs to shut up. ;) This horse is headed down the road to bigger and better things.
Ecclesiastes 3 says there's a time for everything. Well I guess it's time to turn him lose, trust what I've done with Joe and trust in his ability to be a big-timer calf roping horse. Hopefully it won't be long and the pictures and success stories will come rolling in.
I hope...
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Persistence
“All of us have bad luck and good luck. The man who persists through the bad luck - who keeps right on going - is the man who is there when the good luck comes - and is ready to receive it.” ~ Robert Collier
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Perseverance Thursday
Consider it all joy, my brothers, when you encounter various trials, for you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. ~James 1:2-4
DAMMITT!
I don't want my faith tested! Not at what seems to be the expense of others. Nor will pretend to have a clue regarding why we are subjected to varying decrees of tribulation.
But, I do know this - Our Lord does not subject us to evil, but there's no reason He can't use every circumstance for accomplishing His purpose.
So shit happens. Isn't that the bumper sticker Forest Gump came up with ;)?
But, like Father Ed likes to say, "God is in the mess."
I for one am going to take tomorrow to dig around in it. Everyone has a mess to deal with. Most of us would choose our own, too, if we got to comparing. But slow down and find God in there. He's there. And I'm gonna find Him.
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