On The Ranch · Personal

This is a Season

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The other day, we went down to watch the guys ship cattle. We watched the trucks drive by the house early in the morning, and Wacey couldn’t wiggle into his boots fast enough to go down to the pens.

We sat on a flatbed trailer and watched cow after cow get into the trucks while Buster napped in the car, and it was one of those mothering moments that was so bittersweet. Sweet because I love everyday things that become amazing through the eyes of a child and it was so fun to be sitting next to my oldest boy while he said “Woooow” over and over again, and bitter because oh, I miss working cattle. I miss being horseback, I miss being on the crew, I even miss getting up early and hating my life because it’s not even light out yet and I’m horseback and freezing. I miss the hustle and the use of my body for something other than mothering or intentional exercise, and I miss feeling like I’ve put in a full day of hard, productive work. I miss feeling part of something bigger than tiny humans and the world that can feel so small when it’s really best for all involved to have naptime at home every day.

But you know, this is a season (and “this is a season” has become my mothering mantra when things are tough). Mothering young children is a long-but-short season. I don’t like thinking of it as a sacrifice because that idea just doesn’t suit me or my experience of mothering because for me, motherhood has been a gift–a hard-won, shocking gift–that I never, ever expected. I did not grow up wishing to be a mother, although I wanted to be one…someday. I never, ever thought I would have two children before I was even thirty, much less adore having those two children.

(But, you know, I never thought I would be married and living on a ranch ever, much less before I was thirty, much less loving it, either, so this is God’s not-so-subtle way of saying “Hey, sis, take your plans and shove it. Mine are waaaaaay better.”)

Motherhood has changed me in so many good, good ways. I’m more patient, more empathetic, slower to anger, and quicker to laugh. I’m much more likely to lean on my devotional than get butt hurt over something I can’t change, and much more likely to see the little special moments and have gratitude for everyday life. Bert even says I’m late less, which is nothing short of a miracle, because chronic lateness runs in my family and kids require so much stuff to just get out the door.

Motherhood has also given me the perspective to sit on a flatbed trailer, watching my husband load cattle into a truck, and recognize that while I’m a tiny bit jealous, and that I miss it a lot, someday my children will be old enough to mind themselves while their daddy and I load cattle. Or maybe, if we’re lucky, they’ll be horseback right along with us, and that would be the biggest treat of all.

On The Ranch · Personal

We’re Here, But We Don’t Exist.

20171130_071422So, we’ve moved. We’re here! But it’s going to be a (probably long) hot minute since I get to blogging again because…we have no internet. I’m writing this on my phone (with very limited data) because I hate it when bloggers are all like “OMG sorry I leaves out for like, months.” We can’t get any sort of internet-y thing until our address is verified since apparently this house doesn’t exist. So. In the meantime, I’m attempting to actually post to Instagram (@cowcountry, and @cassidyamelia for now) and hope we get this resolved soon!

Home · On The Ranch · Personal

Taking a Break

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Hey y’all! I just wanted to jump on and say I’ll be taking a break for a few weeks since we’ve got so much going on between the sale of the ranch, moving to the new house, and traveling for Thanksgiving.

And decorating the new house for Christmas immediately upon our return, of course. Oh! And my birthday. Big three weeks! Real excited.

I’ll be back the Monday after Thanksgiving! As always, you can also follow our shenanigans over on the ole Insta.

On The Ranch

A Little Branding

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Last Friday we branded a little bunch of calves that were born late and thus missed the spring branding. It seems like one in there only missed the spring branding by a hair because he was a monster and it was pretty good entertainment watching the guys try to get him caught and flanked. You know when you’re laughing so hard because something is ridiculous but then it only makes you clumsy so it becomes even more ridiculous and a vicious cycle ensues? That was the deal with six grown men and a Hereford bull calf who was not having it. There aren’t any pictures of that particular episode because I was laughing so hard I couldn’t hold up the camera!

Wacey was so excited  to go hang out with the cowboys, and I think the cowboys were all excited for a day to goof off. Branding is always fun, but when you’re branding less than twenty calves, it becomes a lot more play than work and basically a big excuse to work a little and then stand around and have a little party by the pens and trade stories and joke and be silly.

It was a good ending to a good week! We’re working out our schedule as the ranch gets closer to closing and figuring out when we’re going to move house. We should be all moved in by the first of December! Last Friday made me glad that we’re not going far, our neighbors here are so nice and fun, and it would be sad to pack up and leave yet another good group of people; we still miss the crew from Colorado.

Also, you can sort of see–Wacey got a hair cut last week and I’m dying. He looks so grown-up! He hates haircuts, so in the past we’ve usually gotten a stylist who got so flustered that they gave him something akin to the Lloyd Christmas special that I ended up trying to “fix” at home (read: make less bad, but usually failing to do so). Who would have thought that the stylist with nerves of steel and a deft hand with some clippers would be in a cute little hair salon in Ruidoso, New Mexico? Not I! That’ll teach me to underestimate small town America.

This week, of course, is Halloween! We are taking Wacey (and Buster!) trick-or-treating for the first time tomorrow and we’re so excited. Wace has been practicing his “trick or treeeeat!” all morning! Follow my Insta for pictures, I’m making a concerted effort to take a bunch since I took only one, basically, last year and the year before. Good job, mom.

Happy Halloween!

 

On The Ranch

Fall Colors

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I have a big ole post written about antibiotics that I wanted to publish yesterday, but I wanted to be super thorough so I’m waiting until I speak to a vet about several things. In the meantime, here are pictures of fall to make you glad.

These were all taken in Rand years ago, since cactus doesn’t exactly have fall colors. I miss Fall in Rand, buuuuuuut I don’t miss feeding cows for nine months or dealing with sixty below and several feet of snow on the regular.

Family · On The Ranch

Is a Detour a Detour When It’s Actually a Plan?

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Whenever I’m shopping for clothes, I have several considerations:

  1. Is it machine washable? I have kids.
  2. Is it comfortable? I have kids.
  3. If for work: will it withstand cows, mud, muck, but also my kids?
  4. If for not work: will it withstand detours on the way to town? I have a cowboy.

Before I dated Bert, I had just dated boys from town. Where they would pick you up at your house, you’d get in the car, drive to your destination, get out of the car, and go inside. You’d spend a hopefully pleasant evening, maybe take a little stroll out to ice cream after dinner, and then you’d be delivered back to your door.

Cowboys are a little different. They will pick you up, but you’re never quite sure in what, and you’ll get in, but you’re never quite sure how easy that’s going to be, and you’ll drive, but you’ll probably have a pit stop or twelve on the way, and you’ll end up at home eventually, but it might be a little later than you planned because things can get western in a hurry, and I don’t mean that in a euphemistic, trying-to-be-polite-for-Grandma way, I mean that in a flat-tire, dirt-road, steer-caught-in-a-roll-of-wire, rodeo’s-in-town kind of way.

Thus, I learned early on to wear things that wouldn’t be ruined if we were driving a nasty ranch truck, or ended up at the pens or in the middle of the pasture (I now own almost no flats for this reason), and that could be worn easily getting in and out of a truck or a tractor without flashing the entire state or getting something hung up. Also to make reservations an hour later than you think they ought to be, or forgo those sorts of establishments altogether.

If I had a nickel for every time I’d heard “Oh, I just want to check on/drive past/go look at the horses/cows/water/fence. It won’t take long. Don’t worry, you won’t have to get out.” I would have enough nickels to buy this amazing Johnny Was beauty I saw at a boutique last week, and a coat to wear over it when I have to get out in the rain to open 47 gates on the way to check cows on the way to dinner.

Case in point: over the weekend, we decided to go into town for dinner. We all got in the pickup, and then it was “Oh, I want to check on the horses on the way.” Uh huh. Of course you do.

 

Family · On The Ranch

Salt and Mineral and Desolation (hey, hipsters, get your album titles here)

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It’s Monday! I’m proud I know what day of the week it is, and what day it is (never forget) because lately I’ve been in a time warp of gray paint, funny sleep schedules, and dusty pickup adventures with these boys of mine. Not having a schedule is doing a number on my brain.

Because I’m a nosy Nelson (but is it really nosy if you live here?), and because the ranch is (literally) 62 square miles, we gathered up the boys yesterday morning and went on a little ranch tour while putting out salt and mineral for the cattle.

(Salt blocks and tubs of mineral supplement the animals’ diet to make sure they’re getting, well, all their salt and minerals. They’re sort of like the bovine equivalent of a Flintstones vitamin to account for various deficiencies in the natural environment.)

We saw the bulls, the heifers, some of the older cows, and a whole lotta cactus. In these pictures, we’re on the side of the ranch that’s not gotten much rain this year, so that’s why it looks a little crispy. Also, we haven’t escaped the haze that’s fallen over the Western United states (Lord, send some rain up to those fires, please sir).

Loading the boys up and driving around is one of our favorite things to do. Often, we’ll bring some bottled “fancy” soda and a bag of chips along and make it a little date. Wacey gets a big kick out of sitting next to Buster in the back seat, and Buster gets a big kick out of Wacey so it’s a win-win-win-win.

Things I learned while driving around yesterday:

  1. There’s a lot of rocks. I knew this before, but golly, they weren’t kidding when they made this place and decided it would be rockier than all seven movies (yes, seven, I Googled it so it must be true) in the Rocky franchise
  2. In this part of the world, a water tank is something in which to store water in, and a drinker is what the cattle actually drink out of, which we (used to) call water tanks. So tank=storage, drinker=what we used to call a tank.
  3. I will never, ever get tired of watching cows chase a pickup because they think there’s cake. I had to do some pretty fancy finagling to get a gate shut before the girls got through because they’d crawl on the back of that flatbed if they could.
  4. Bring more beverages. It’s hot and dusty and it takes, like, three hours to put out eight blocks of salt. Also chapstick.
  5. Buster can sleep through anything in a truck. Like, we could be in a monster truck crawling over boulders and not a single hoot could be given by that fat ole baby.
  6. We live in the middle of nowhere. My parents called it desolate. They were right, but without all the sad/heebie-jeebie connotations of desolate. I prefer “remote,” “real, real ranchy” (although we live within 50 miles of a decent-sized town so we’re not super ranchy), or “secluded.”
  7. I laugh on a very regular basis about how I grew up in town, was in a sorority in college, thought I was going to be a lawyer, and now live in a little house on a ranch in a desert in New Mexico. Like, who would thunk? Also, who woulda thunk that I (mostly) love it? I mean, God, obviously, but who else? No one, y’all. No one.
  8. I love having an excuses to wear my big ole hat. The bigger the hat, the bigger the hair, the bigger the inseam on my high-waisted jeans, those closer to God, as far as I’m concerned.
  9. We have a little canyon on the ranch called the Arroyo del Macho and that’s pretty cool.

In summary: putting out salt and mineral is fun, I like my family, and everything is cooler if it has a name in a foreign language.

Happy Monday! Love, Me. PS try these cookies. Unless you’re participating in a fitness challenge in which one of the categories is to limit sugar. Then wait till next month. Trust me here. Trust fall into my open arms, which are beefy because Buster, and trust me.