The Mighty Oak

Cradling a steaming mug of pecan-laced java this city girl padded out to the porch this morning to soak up the warm sunshine, and listen to the twills and tweets of sparrows, scissors-tails, and mourning doves. The fragrant scent of rain-soaked rosemary bushes wafted over and a distant ‘moo’ joined the chorus. The rhythmic movement of the glider gentled any anxious thoughts.

I noticed a fallen oak about a hundred yards away. A storm had downed it a couple of months ago and I assumed it had gone to that ‘Great Forest in the Sky.’ I was wrong. Even though its trunk lay parallel to the ground, numerous branches sprouted the yellow-green buds of spring.

I don’t know how long the mighty oak will continue to flourish, but for now its determination to cling to life encourages me. No matter the harsh realities I may face, hope lives and just maybe something new is right around the corner, or arising from something long thought dead.

Just saying …

http://www.PJGover.com

 

 

Orange Marmalade and Magic

This city girl and the whole fam recently found ourselves motoring down narrow back-country roads, soaking in ancient sites, and meandering through quaint shops packed with Aran Island knitwear, shamrocks and Connemara marble, and displays of silver and pewter Celtic jewelry. That’s right, we did our vacay on the Emerald Isle, Ireland that is.

And what a glorious time it was. The temps hovered around a crisp 30 degrees F, with only a couple of rain days. Indeed, those Irish eyes were smiling down on us, and we gratefully accepted the clear blue skies and brilliant sunshine.

Lest you think my title has nothing to do with this blog, it does. That’s because of the “Authentic” Irish breakfasts. I put that in italics because that’s how the first meal of the day was always advertised. Irish breakfasts usually include eggs, bacon (it looks like Texas ham slices), stewed tomatoes, sautéed mushrooms, potatoes, toast, fruit, jams and jelly, and tea. And I wonder why I gained weight! Being a Gluten-free American I always requested the ‘celiac’ bread, as it was often referred to, and of course, orange marmalade because that just sounds so very proper and Irish at that. Each morning I smothered my toast and savored the tangy sweetness while sipping cups of black Irish tea.

Back home marmalade is not what I first grab when at the local grocery store, but in Ireland it felt right. At first bite, my taste buds fire up and the magic of lush green pastures in early morning mist, 800 year-old ruins, closely clustered shops and brightly painted pubs, placidly grazing sheep on hillsides lined with low-slung rock walls, and waves crashing onto craggy shorelines flood my senses.

It’s not quite the same sitting at my kitchen table with store-brand marmalade, Whole Foods gluten-free toast, and Lipton’s tea, but when I close my eyes, I can just about see and feel the wonder of Ireland. The magic happens and I’m back again.

Let’s All Give a Bunch of Thanks!

Hogs running wild,

Angus a grazing,

Perch in the pond,

Ponies across the fence, and

Yellow Jackets overhead.

***

Tadpoles in the tanks,

Howlin’ coyotes in the woods,

Ants in the dirt,

Nanny goats at the neighbors,

Kittens snug with their mamas,

Skunks bringing grief and

Geckos underfoot, but

I imagine there’s

Value and reason to give thanks for each

Itty bitty critter and big one, too, to the

Nurturer of all, the

Good Lord Above.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, ALL Y’ALL!

From your citygirl ;-D    COPYRIGHT ©2014

The New Front Gate

The ranch sports a new iron gate!  Yea!  The Hub and this city girl have thought about a new one for a while now, but just never got the ‘git up and go’ to do one.  However, the choice was made for us as so often happens in life.

The ranch front gate is solar-powered and it not only opens when the code is entered it also stays open for 40 seconds before automatically closing, usually plenty of time to get a car or truck through. Remember the barn construction of earlier this year?  Well, the cement truck stopped a tad short of getting through the gate and its tail end caught the edge of the closing gate and crumbled that gate into one gnarly metal mess.  The Hub hooked up a smaller gate to fill in the gaps so the calves wouldn’t meander through or the mama cows get heads stuck in.  It looked as Grandmother used to say, “Ugly as a mud fence put together with tadpoles,” and baby, that’s ugly.

Fortunately for us (thank you, God), the head man installing the barn’s metalwork also welded iron gates. The opportunity to get a new gate fell smack dab into our laps.  The Hub sketched up something with a star, naturally.  Hey, we are in Texas, folks.  And in a couple of weeks the new gate was born and installed.  Except it looked brand new, and not the look we were going for.  So we had them scrap off the fancy shiny black finish.  I imagine that got them to scratching their heads, but now we have a new gate that looks like an old gate, except not junky or rigged, at least to this city girl’s way of thinking.

Once again we can raise our heads proud while chattin’ neighborly things with all the ranch neighbors and any of you visitors, too.

The Other Mighty Fine Blog

Hey readers!

You might like a blog slated to the more serious side of life’s issues.  If so, checkout http://www.PJGover.com

In the meantime, y’all come back often for updates that take a good ‘look see’ at a gen-u-ine city girl’s take on all things Texas country and ranch.

Buh bye for now, and oh, the cows moo a big ‘howdy’ at cha, too.

The Amazing Update

Well, not that amazing, but whoo whee, it’s been a while since city girl graced the pages of said blog, citygirlgoincountry, with words, wit, or wisdom; with observations, eyeball accounts, or egocentric thoughts; with stories, specifics, or summaries of life in, around and on this here Texas ranch.  So, not one to deprive anyone of my megalomaniac meanderings, here we go.

The completed barn changes the landscape and view, but in a good way.  The cows have grown accustomed to the new ‘thing’ in their pasture so all’s right in the world according to all Angus accounting.  Gone are the days where the cows curiously approached the structure leaving their, well, um, ‘leavings’ or ‘mark’ so to speak, as if to claim dominance over the new ‘thing.’  No more do they feel the need to peer in dark openings of large metal doors and wonder what in the world is happening to theirs.

Evidence of the Hub’s carpentry prowess, large wooden shelving, stands proudly along the barn’s western side.  Scattered about the interior sits various farm equipment, tools, and truck ready for action at a moment’s notice.

The fish in the large and newer pond/tank are no longer on welfare (the feeder got smashed by a nearby downed tree), but fending for themselves.  However, one of the Hub’s projects is to repair, rejuvenate, and refill feeder to once again, make the bass, minnows, red gill and occasional catfish, dependent upon the Hub’s generous hand.  Or just to more rapidly grow to good eatin’ size.  I’m sure that’s it.

Haven’t seen hide nor hair of those pesky feral hogs in a blue moon so the pastures are growing thick with tall grass and whatever the windy blows in.  It’s about time for the annual mow and then all will appear tight and trimmed and just a little bit more pristine.  The city girl in me kinda likes that look.  Although, hey, I can go with wild and crazy, too.

For now, we’re surviving the August heat, and the dry, and looking on the horizon for a rain cloud, even a tiny one, to wash away the summer, freshen up the place, and get ready for fall, one of the ‘bestest’ times for ranch wanderings on our itty bitty section of God’s green earth.

The New Girls

As the gravel crunched under the tires we eased through the ranch’s front gate, and were immediately met by the frightened faces of four new heifers.  They huddled together away from the herd, and we figured they must be ones recently brought in.

In many ways they behaved like new girls at junior high, all awkward, insecure and unsure of their place in the hierarchy.   The Hub and this city girl hoped they’d be accepted by the other ‘girls’ but felt sure they’ll be no problem with Mr. Bull, who I imagined held thoughts like, “Hey, hey, baby,” “You new in town, er, ranch?” or “Where you been all my life?”  Bulls can be so crass and crude like the cow version of low-life Vegas lounge lizards.

Later that evening we noticed all the cows settled among the tall grasses and low shrubs, sheltered in shade of massive Burr oaks; and that’s good news.  The new girls seemed to be enjoying full Angus acceptance and bovine buddy-hood with new friends.  I hope they got the full ranch tour and were shown the best places to graze, find shade, take a dip, and stretch out for a snooze.  I figure the ‘old timers’ warned them where the coyotes den, the skunks hole up, the bobcats roam, and the wild pigs play havoc.

So for now all looks peaceful and pleasant among the cattle, but herd mentality can be brutal … for heifers and those junior high ‘new’ girls, too.  I bet we can all remember when.  Ewww, yuck.  Just saying.

The Accidental Playground

With the addition of the new barn, the ranch is quickly becoming a compound which fits right well in with all things Texas. The Hub carefully laid out the plat and brought in a ‘dirt guy’ (yes, some guys actually get to specialize in dirt) to smooth out and ready the plot for the ‘cement guy.’

So for a few days there we had a 30 by 50 foot, or thereabouts, smooth as molasses dirt area. Imagine our surprise when we drove in the other day and caught sight of our Black Angus calves either sunning themselves or frolicking in our carefully graded future barn lot. It’s like the area lit up with a flashing neon sign overhead screaming, “Playground!” And adding insult to injury, a few mamas had curiously joined in, much to our dismay. Now, really?!

If you know cows you know they leave ‘calling cards’ anywhere they choose to camp out and the ‘playground’ was no different. So Someone, not this city girl for sure, had to shoo some cattle and spiff up the spot in order to ready it for that ‘cement guy.’

I imagine no harm was intended, but now we know, our beloved bovine buddies just can’t pass up a pleasantly pleasing patch or splendidly smooth strip of God’s green, er, brown earth, no matter what.

The New Barn

It looks like the Hub and this city girl are gettin’ a new barn. The old one is really no more than a small shed, and well, it’s time to update and house new toys. Just ask the Hub.

So there’s been lots of thinking, calculating, drawing, and conferring on the phone. The Hub’s been running numbers, walking the land, and picking the site, with this city girl’s input, naturally, especially with location. After all, it’s all about location, location, location, even on big acreage.

I imagine the cows will be curious as they’re apt to be, the wild pigs could care less as they are practically clueless, the coyotes will avoid it as they are cautious critters, the skunks will search for a spot to burrow under as they prove their peskiness, the raccoons will forage for food as they’re all about eats, the neighbors’ dogs will sniff it out as they hope to stake new territory, and the birds will have another target as they revel in inappropriate aiming, no doubt.

So come on down in a couple of weeks and we’ll have ourselves a real country Hoedown Showdown, don’t cha know. It’s gonna be a real Barn Burner for sure.

The Diminishing Dam

The spillway on the new ranch pond looks to be eroding just a bit. I say ‘new,’ it’s actually about 5 years old. If the Hub and this city girl were to just let nature takes its course, of course, that dam would dwindle down to nothin’ then we’d be, well, up a creek, or down one. So matters have to be taken in hand and something figured out right quick.

The Hub wisely called in an expert. A Pond Expert. Yes, they do exist. Mr. Pond Bossman trucked down to the ranch early this morning and he and the Hub took a look-see, but not before a bumpy ride in the club car aka golf cart for all you Citified Globalicans.

They hiked around the water a lookin’ and a figurin’ this way and that. I’m thinking big bucks because don’t most experts expect folks to fork over the Benjamins and lots of ‘em?

After about an hour of jawin’ our expert came up with this. Get ten to 15 sacks of Sakrete, which is ready mix concrete at about $2.00 a bag and “the pro’s choice for concrete, mortar and stucco mixes.” Who knew? Anyway, then stack ‘em up, ram down some rebar (concrete reinforcing rods), cover with dirt and call it good work. Huh? We don’t pour out the Sakrete? Nope. Wet it down? Negatory. We don’t even open the bags? No siree.

Evidently once water touches the bags the wetting and setting of the concrete magically happens. The catch? Each bags weighs about 65 lbs. so the Hub’ll have to wrangle in some help… Anybody available next weekend? Anybody? Hellooooo…