Thursday, November 29, 2007

I think this is what happens when I read to many westerns

The gate slowly creaked open, and the jingle of spurs entered the corral. A tall young, bowlegged cowboy strode across the corral towards the waiting horse. He stood there for a moment contemplating the animal, while absentmindedly smoking a cigarette. The cowboy snugged his worn out Stetson down on his head, and took a final drag from his cigarette and tossed it off, as he stuck a worn out boot in the stirrup and put a hand on the reins.

“I’m a darn fool,” he thought to himself, as he swung up on the beast, exhaling plumes of tobacco smoke around his head. For a brief moment, he thought nothing was going to happen. Then the tough old mustang began to shake and tremor all over. Hernando sighed deeply, and gripped his legs tighter around the horse.

The horse seemed to sky rocket into the air, and came back down to earth with a bone jarring thud. Up and down, pitching and twisting, the beast raised hell for a few more leaps, and then the cowboy found himself suspended in mid air, with nothing below him. Reality kicked in for Hernando when he slammed into the poles of the fence with a sickening crash.

He got up slowly from the ground, brushing the dirt and grime from his chaps and reaching out for his hat, while swearing under his breath in Spanish. As he placed the Stetson firmly back on his head, he glanced across the corral at the old mustang. It stood there contemptuously watching the cowboy, stomping its foot and snorting loudly. Raucous laughter echoed across the arena, and Hernando glanced back over his shoulder to see Shorty nimbly climbing up the fence to take a seat.

“Boy when you gonna’ learn how to straddle a hoss’ like a real man,” he taunted in a deep Southern drawl.

“Well if it is so easy, why don’t you get off the fence and ride the animal yourself,” Hernando retorted with great irritation.

“Naw, it is more enjoyable, if I seat right here and watch you make a fool of yourself,” was Shorty’s reply as he lackadaisically rolled himself a smoke.

By this time Hernando, had managed to catch the mustang again, and was talking soothingly too as it as he tightened the cinch. Gritting his teeth, he stuck his worn out boot back into the stirrup and swung into the saddle again. As the horse began to shake again he dug his spurs into his side and hung on for dear life. Up and down, left and right, he pitched with all his might, but the mustang could not throw the cowboy. Slowly the fight began to leave him and the bucking lessened up.

Hernando loped the horse over to the fence where Shorty was sitting in total shock, and said, “Well, I reckon it’s your turn.” He swung down off the horse handed the reins to Shorty, and began to roll a cigarette.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Donald Duck

Just a few minutes ago, I received a phone call from my dear Uncle Don. When Uncle Don calls it always makes my day, in fact he is in my opinion the coolest Uncle I have, on my mom's side of the family. Uncle Don is a quirky fellow, but in truth I often think that I would like to be just like him. Anyway we had a most delightful conversation, and he said I don't keep up with this blog. So this is for you Uncle Don. I am in Houston, chilling at my friends house, doing absolutely nothing. I enjoyed your phone call and hope I can come to see your house at the end of the summer. There you go Uncle Don. Remember you are the coolest.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Camp Wyldewood Wranglers

This is what I helped do this week.

Friday, April 13, 2007

Regenerating Rains

Rain is a powerful force. It can reak havoc and destruction on the world, and yet at the same time prepare for the growth of new life. Rain is a part of the natural healing cycle provided by God's hand. Tonight it is raining in Searcy. As I sat inside Midnight Oil, I longed to go outside and stand, head thrown back and arms held high, in the midst of the torrents of rain as they drove towards the hardened ground. To have the reckoning force of the storm sweep away all that is within me and prepare me for something new. A new growth, that is what my life needs. It is as if I were a plot of soil, over farmed with no nutrients left in me, and I need the rain to flow over me washing away the old and restoring health to my body and soul.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007