Gus

She was afraid to let him lope and when she did she desperately grasped onto the horn.
He was her daddy's good cowhorse.
Bought at an auction out of a kill pen.
He was a flea bitten grey with an odd brand alongside his mane.
Horrible smelling when soaked in sweat.
But she loved him.
Effectively stealing his loyalty away from her daddy.
He covered a lot of miles, his walk as fast as most trot.
He was strong, he was tough.
He'd go all day then try his rider just before home.
But never with the little girl, he took care of her.
He lived to chase cattle through the brush, breaking hard and fast.
He was tough on other horses, only allowing a little Mustang mare to be his pen-mate.
He talked when you fed him, not a normal nicker, it was different.
Eventually he became so attached to the girl that no one else could catch him.
The little girl joined 4-H, oh the things she subjected him to!
Baths, blankets, clippers, black hoof polish and even an English saddle.
He wasn't a show horse but he was always game.
Occasionally showing his boredom by falling asleep in showmanship classes.
They spent hours roaming the countryside.
Her daddy never worrying because he knew that ole grey would always bring his little girl home.
She rode him for the last time in a snow storm.
He was 28 and half blind, but that didn't slow him up.
He practically loped in place he was so excited to go.
The following winter the loyal old fellow gave up.
He may be gone, buried with so many others, but he'll always hold the top spot in her heart.

Xo Loves,

Me

Quiet and Free

Since the late 1800's my family has lived at the base of the mountains in a quiet little valley along the river.  Five generations later, things(life) is very different, but everyday we fight to keep the old ways alive.  The ranch was split between my grandpa and my great uncle, but both of our families are still running cows in the same country as our great-great grandpa James and will continue to do so until our rights are taken away.  

Tonight my mama and I drove to the top of the mountain in search of my papa(who was already home).  I love my mountain home, love where I come from, and I feel an unexplained peace when I'm up there.  It's so easy to picture myself 100 years ago living in the line shack on top of the ridge with just my horse, my dog, my gun and cows to look after.  No loud vehicles humming by, no motorcycles scaring my colts, no one who doesn't belong.  Just the sound of the wind in the pines, the birds and chipmunks, bawling cows, the clear ring of their bells.  I'm in love with the simplicity of the past, and wish that I could have experienced it as tough a life as it was.  A time where the women were tough and the men were tougher.  You lived or you died, simple as dirt...

As the sun slipped behind the mountains in the distance I couldn't help but think about the family that came before.  About how many such sunsets they experienced in the same place(there were no roads back then). What was happening in their lives?  Were they happy?  Did they miss the old country?  What had they gone through to get to that point?  Did they simply marvel in the beauty of the orange light, or were they too rushed to make it back to camp to notice? 

Even a family who seems to know everything about their ancestors it's these minute details that are forever lost in history.  It's a shame that the simple things in life are not the ones that are handed down through generations.  I'm fiercely proud of my family and since I didn't get a chance to know them all, I'm extremely thankful to be experiencing much of the same things in life as they did.

XO Loves,

Me

 

12 Years Ago

I would like to say we all know, but given today's society the more correct phrase is probably most of us know about Arlington National Cemetery.  Arlington is the final resting place of more than 14,000 veterans, including some from the Civil War.  It's beautiful and peaceful and to me an honor to visit.  These veterans came from all over the country, from all walks of life, but they all had one thing in common.  Pride, duty and commitment to our country.  Some died fighting for our freedom, some lived a full life after serving.  No matter the manner of death to each and every one I say Thank You.

12 years ago, 3 months before the attack on the Twin Towers I had a chance of a lifetime.  I was fortunate enough to get to go on a school field trip with a school in town to Washington D.C. and New York City.  That in and of itself was amazing, but it got better.  I was one of 4 chosen to lay a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.  Talk about an honor!  My papas eyes were filled with pride when I came home and told him what I was going to do on our trip.  I was ecstatic to simply be going, to get to see Arlington with my own eyes, and this, well this was just unimaginable.  A memory that I will have forever, an honor to be able to pay tribute to those who never made it home.  There may be only 1 body buried in that tomb, but it represents every soldier never identified.  I can only hope that in some way that offers peace to their souls.  Of course I had a lot of pictures from that trip, 7 rolls to be exact.  I have no idea where they are though, so I just have this one that hangs in my mamas office.  The trip was amazing.  We toured the cemetery, visited statues, buildings as well as the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall.  Our cousin died in the line of duty and it would have meant a tremendous amount to my papa to bring back his name etched in coal.  There are over 58,000 names on The Wall though and I just didn't have enough time to find him.

Not a fabulous picture since I snapped it from my phone.

 

I got this one from the internet, but I took one exactly like it.

Happy 4th of July America!

Xo Loves,

Me

Maine

Have you ever been?  It started as a simple dream on a list of things to do and has now grown into a full "I have to do this".

We all know where Maine is, but did you know that the Pine Tree State is the least populated state east of the Mississippi?  That just makes me want to go even more!  Maine has 230 miles of coastline and 3,500 miles of tidal coastline.  The coast out there is entirely different than what we're used to here.  Geologists describe Maine's coast as a "drowned coast".  Meaning that a rising sea level made bays out of valleys and islands out of mountain tops.

And the weather?!  Oh, it's marvelous.  Summertime highs reach up into the 80's with an all time record high of 105 clear back in 1911.  I really am excited about the winter.  I truly do love the extreme cold, maybe it's the bragging rights of sayin "ye'ah it's 30 below heah".  Low temps in the winter on average are below 0 with a new record in 2009 of -50!!!  Yea! Where can I get a nice fur-lined coat and Muk Luks?  Maine also has fewer days of thunderstorms than any state east of the Rockies.  Oh and did I mention that Tornadoes are a rare occurrence?  Sounds perfect to me!

While doing some research it seems many residents leave for the winter.  I guess they live like geese :).  There are numerous beautiful, old homes for rent from September-May with pretty reasonable prices.  Maine has the highest percentage of French speaking people in the US, which isn't odd considering there are a lot of French or French-Canadian descendants there.  So maybe if I say Eh a lot I won't stick out like a native Californier...  Can ya blame a gal from going back to her roots?  Well maybe a bit too far north, but the Algonquian language is the same.

I don't plan on living there indefinitely, well unless I meat a hot fisherman, or would it be bugger?  Oh well, when in Maine do as the Mainahs do!  Haha the sayings and such are quite humerous, and I'm looking forward to the dialect and accents.  They don't really talk very different than we do, maybe just not as much emphasis on every letter.  Come graduation, look out America.  Who knows where I may go!

I think I love it!


Xo Loves,

Me