Smells Like Thursday

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.

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:

1. There are no good times.


2. 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.