It seems so strange. Everyone is gathering the cows in the badlands and I’m not riding. It’s odd not seeing the Indian paintbrush blooming, or the bluebells tucked away on hillsides.
I’m not there to see the rainwater filled swales or the breeze grab the grass to sway back and forth together.
I can’t see the calves stand and stretch slowly in the sunlight, limbering up before running off to find momma.
I chose not to ride this time… instead I’m home with grandkids… preparing for branding, cooking for the cowboys, working in my yard, and teaching the finer points of croquet. I’m no longer a fan of riding in the mud… and although it tears at my heart to not be there… right in the middle of everything… what I’m doing matters, too.
Tess and Megan are getting experience… learning the country, learning what works in this particular pasture… and the kids are learning from me and I from them. Quinlan taught me about gypsum roses… and I told him about Star TREK, NOT Star Wars, after he found some of my old toys!
Photo courtesy of Victoria Davis… it doesn’t get much prettier than this!Find me here!