RIDING DRAG / HAYING TIME (BUFFALO GRASS)

The rains this spring and summer have made for good grass this year. We find ourselves gathering bales and putting them in storage instead of scrambling for hay as we have the last few years. The pastures are full of round bales scattered across the land like buffalo grazing in the evening light.

 Buffalo Grass

The round bales stand, heavy and grand,

  it’s been a good year for hay.
Up the hill I walk, to sit on my rock,
  as master of all I survey.

It occurs to me, this used to be,

  part of the open plain;
Before you and me, before cattle was king,
  the royal Buffalo reigned.

Clouds edged with light, day eases to night,

  dusk plays tricks with my eyes;
Into visions I drift, shapes start to shift,
  Night-hawks sing a lullaby.

The moon rises low, shadows come and go,

  I see shaggy beasts in the haze.
They come as I sleep, give me knowledge to keep,
  I watch them content as they graze.

They ramble on in, I call them kin,

  I awake to find them not there;
But it’s not been a dream; I still feel the steam,
  of their sacred breath in the air.

The water still flows. The wind still blows.

  The bluestem waves tall and green.
And I see them each night, when the moon is just right,
  the Buffalo of my dreams.

I breathe a prayer, while I’m standing there

  and hope it’s not too late;
To save the earth, for what it’s worth,
  or we’ll suffer the very same fate.

I’ll heed their call…Pray for us all,

  ask God “Where do we go?”
When the moon is pale, I’ll stand near the bales,
and pretend...they’re Buffalo.

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For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com.

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News, Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIDING DRAG / ESCAPE!

I knew it wouldn’t take long; I went to the laundry room on the back porch and when I came back to the living room he was gone. Home only three days from the hospital where he had his kidney removed and he had escaped! I went to the open front door where I saw him, followed by our six year old grandson. He was headed to the west corral.

When I asked him where he thought he was going he simply said “I need to see CiCi. I need my horse.” My grandson (very wise for his age) said “I’m here MawMaw. I got this.”

I cannot argue with either one. I have been there. I know the healing power of horses. I watch them, consider and let them go. God speed.

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*For more by Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News  Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIDING DRAG / WHAT'S GREAT ABOUT AMERICA

We had intended to have the barn painted by this time. The plan was to have a big American flag painted on the north side facing the county road as a tribute to our country. My great-nephew Brandon came to spend the summer with his Mamo Angel and work part-time on the 4DH. He was going to paint the barn and help me paint the flag. But you know what they say about best laid plans.

God made it possible for Husband to take a spill and in the ensuing doctor's appointment they found the tumor in his kidney. Surgery has gone well and though he has a long road of healing ahead things are looking up.

In a time when the news is filled with so many stories about criminal youth, I would like to share about those kind of kids who never recieve the attention they deserve. Brandon is one of those kids. He came to spend the summer doing a few chores around the ranch, do a few projects for his great-grandpa and the rest of his time would be spent having fun. We planned lots of afternoons in the pool and many sightseeing excursions.

Then Husband had surgery and great-grandpa needed more help and Brandon's part-time work turned full-time. He has helped Chief and our kids around the ranch with feeding and watering, hauling, caring for horses, cattle and pets, as well as mowing and hauling hay. He has also been working full days all week in the warehouse at Tucker Janitorial Supply. Has he complained that this was not the summer he bargained for? No.

Instead he has pitched in and done more than expected. What a truly remarkable sixteen year old! He will never get the credit he deserves. He will never be on the nightly news or make front page headlines; but he should. And so should all those other good kids out who make America Great.

This Independence Day please take the time to tell a Great Young America how proud you are of them. They are the future and salvation of this country. Thanks Brandon, for being a good example of what every kid should aspire to be!

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For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com.

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News  Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIDING DRAG / MY SOAP BOX

Now, more than any time before, we must celebrate Independence Day. We must celebrate before it is gone, before the next generation forgets.

Have you passed on any traditions today? I am not talking about hot dogs and fireworks. I am talking about taking your family out around the flag pole and raising the flag and pledging allegiance. Have you stood and told them about family members who have given up their time or even their lives to defend freedom? It doesn’t matter how many generations back, they deserve to be remembered. It is our duty to tell their stories and make the next generation understand that it is their sacrifice that enables them to live in a country that is still free.

Tell them about the Constitution. Tell them about voting and encourage them to register if they are old enough. Tell them what they no longer tell them in school; that honesty and hard work will pay off and that it is better to stand for the values this country was based on no matter the cost, than to live in chains.

I know that I am a little preachy standing up on this soap box, but I love America with my whole being and I am angry that career politicians are selling us out. I am disappointed that people care so little about voting. I am horrified that our children are not educated about the Constitution and they start their school day without the Pledge of Allegiance or Prayer. I also realize it is my responsibility to not keep my mouth shut! I must stand upon my box and share my love for the United States of America. I must tell my Representatives what is not acceptable and not with one phone call a year, but as a part of my regular routine.

I am an American and I will not be silenced. I will shout out my love for my country every day; before it is too late, before there is nothing left to celebrate. Join me, please.

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For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com.

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News & Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIDING DRAG / GETTING EVEN

Back in 2000-2004 I had cancer. Fortunately for me I was blessed with a team of Doctors and Nurses, many of whom I had known most of my life and who I called friend. My best friend gave up his time, his hobbies and sleep to care for me. He is my husband and I cannot tell you all what all he did for me during that time. It was his love and care that saved me. It was he who carried me out to a lawn-chair among my horses. This one thing helped me with my healing more than any other thing done on my behalf.

This week we were hit with the news that he did not have back pain from a spill he took several months ago but pain that was brought on by a cancerous tumor in his right kidney. We are presently putting together a plan of action with his doctors for his surgery next week. Do we know where this is going? No. We simply pray for healing and prepare to accept it. We beg the patience of our friends and co-workers as we go down this path.

I write this column each week and I talk about what goes on with the critters, the members of the 4DH Crew and our friends and neighbors. I have tried over the years to always stay true to the goings-on of ranch/farm life. At this moment I am at a loss for words. I can only tell you this; God in His wisdom allowed me to go through cancer so I would know who loved me as much as He does. Now He is affording my husband the same chance.

I am finally going to get the opportunity to get even with my husband for all he did for me. I already know where I am going to place that lawn chair for his ‘equine therapy’. 

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For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com.

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News & Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIGING DRAG / One Potato, Two Potato

With the way grocery prices are climbing I am becoming increasing glad that I plant a garden. I have talked about how much I enjoy getting seed catalogues. They come when spring is far away and set us to dreaming of fresh vegetables and beautiful flowers. It is my favorite time of year when the first catalogue arrives in the mail.

The last couple of years have been a disappointment in gardening. Spring started out well with the garden going in and for the first month things grew. Then the heat would set in and no amount of watering would keep the plants growing. It was very disheartening. But this year is worth every minute of hard work! Spring was filled with rain and not only the garden but the hay fields have flourished. Green is everywhere for the first summer in several years.

We are so hopeful that we are already planning a bigger garden for next year.  Why do we allow a little success to inspire us to expand? It’s just the rural way! Farmers and Ranchers like to see things grow. We love every minute of what we do and knowing that crops and livestock grow in direct relation to how much hard work we put into it is satisfying beyond words.

Long ago when I was a kid my grandfather grew potatoes in a tower of used tires. As they grew he would add a tire and more dirt. Before he was done the potato bed would be five or six tires high. To harvest he would take off a tire and brush away the soil revealing the potatoes. This is my plan for next year, gathering up used tires and planting the way my grandfather planted. That and praying for more rain between now and then. For the present I plan on having some tomatoes and squash for dinner. How does your garden grow?

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For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com.

 

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News & Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIDING DRAG / RURAL CSI

We never heard a thing; not a scream or a squeal, not a bump or a bang, not a shuffle or a scuffle, no not a single noise of any kind. But the evidence of the murder was there; blood everywhere. Big, half-dollar size puddles of blood, from one end of the deck to the other. Globs of it in the hand rail and on down the steps. It was a gruesome scene indeed.

Our first concern was for the cats and dogs themselves. All of them passed inspection, not a cut or scratch anywhere. This led us to believe that they could possibly be the culprit. Who/what then was murdered? This was a job for CSI…Critter Scene Investigation!

I admit it, I am a closet investigator, and I am pretty good at it. Back home if there are feathers scattered across the yard I know all the evidence points to the murder of a bird. No matter how innocent the cats look laying there on the porch I know they are guilty. How? They didn’t rush to the door for food when I came outside, which means only one thing, they had full tummies. You can figure it out from there.

But there were no feathers. There was no squirrel or bunny hair. There was nothing except large drops of blood; more blood than any squirrel of bunny could have inside their small body.  It makes me nervous because apparently there was a critter on our deck that was pretty large in size to have lost that much blood. More nerve-racking is the thought of the size of the animal that did said critter in.

I have deduced this much, that whatever it was that was murdered it was too large to have been killed by any one of the three cats or either of the two wiener dogs. (Who have the air-tight alibi of being asleep in the house with us at the time of the murder.) The killer was bigger and meaner and sneaky enough to pull off the crime without being heard or seen and without leaving any evidence at all. Despite the large amount of blood there was not a single foot/paw print to be found.

I have become cautious about standing out on the deck at night. I have also confined all my Critter Scene Investigation activities to daylight hours. But it hasn’t stopped me from spending a great deal of time looking out the large back windows and doors wondering about this incident. I prefer to not think of these measures as cowardice on my part but rather stealthy surveillance. Yeah, surveillance…that’s it. CSI continues to work on this case with Agent Mom leading the investigation. Details of the case will be released as they become available. (I think I need a theme song.)

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For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com.

 

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News & Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIDING DRAG / ZELLA

When I think of her, I see two pictures,

  side by side in Grandma’s book...
A hopeful young nurse, in a starched white dress,
  and a red-head, in a wheat field, with a grinnin’, onery look.
She was a nurse, when it was a job,
  that only a woman would do,
She nursed in town odd hours,
  then planted wheat and bottle-fed calves too.
Because she married a handsome farmer,
  and together they would homestead,
And in the course of fifty-some years,
  kept each other’s spirits warm and fed.

She learned how to drive most any tractor,

  and she knew how to plow,
And she knew about delivering babies,
  be they human, or be they cow.
This dual life she lived,
  sometimes took everything she had,
But if you asked her about it,
  she’d say, “Aw, it’s not so bad...
You see, life is an Adventure,
  if you play the cards you’re dealt,
Good times you let the seams out on your britches,
  bad times, you hold ‘em up with a belt.”

She loved to share ideas,

  and she had an open and inquisitive mind,
She said you should look for miracles,
  because they’re not that hard to find.
Like babies and calves in the spring,
  crocus and crystal in the snow,
And seeing your friends and loved ones,
  everywhere you go.

She would have been pleased to see all the people,

  who came to the service that day,
She never would have believed so many would come,
  just to honor an Old Farm Girl that way.
And every one had a story,
  about how she touched their life,
Like the one told by a man
   and his forever grateful wife.
The man was smashed by a tractor,
  they fetched her to their farm,
She bagged his lungs and breathed for him,
  for two and a half hours, with her work-strong arms.

 The stories would have embarrassed her,

  it was her job, as a nurse, you see,
I must have heard a thousand such tales,
  and in each one, her humbleness was the key.
So, we stood around the funeral home,
  and we laughed, as we told her favorite jokes,
She would have enjoyed the laughter,
  she would have gotten in her pokes.

 Then her Husband asked me what I wanted of hers,

  I said, just her nurses hat...
But, true to form, she’d given it to a younger nurse,
  so, I figured, that was that.
Then he brought me her old straw hat,
  the one she farmed and gardened in,
And a rhinestone brooch she always wore,
  and her little gold nurses pin.

Then came the time we dreaded,

  we had to say Good-bye,
And we’re just not the kind of people,
  who stand around and cry,
You see, Death is a CELEBRATION,
  and if you do it right,
Your whole Life is a Ministry,
  until your soul takes flight.

 And if you’re really lucky,

  people miss you when you’re gone,
And maybe write a line or two,
  that keeps your memory strong.
So, I wrote down these words,
  that would have made her shy,
So, you would know, we loved her,
  and who she was, and why.
For in her UNSELFISH lifetime,
  she had truly done it all...
Everything, from those starched white dresses,
  to the evening cattle call.

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For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com.

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News & Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIDING DRAG / DOING THE RIGHT THING

May 28, 2013

From the laundry room I heard my daughter say “Mom…Mom…I need to talk to you.” I hollered that I was doing the wash. She peaked her head in the door and I immediately knew I was about to be conned. “I had to bring a dog home Mom and I swear to you if you don’t like her I will take her back to the shelter and put her down myself. But I want you to hear her story and I want you to give her one week…just one week.”

Her job with the Vet had already garnered us a 7 toed tom cat and two Manx female cats. They went to the shelter once a month to do the put-downs. It is not a fun job, but a sometimes necessary one. Dara handled it well though you could always tell by her sad face what day they had gone. “Tell me the story first and it had better be a good one” I said.

 “Feona belonged to an 86 year old lady who had a heart attack. When the paramedics got there they locked her in the kitchen and took her owner away. No one found her for five days. Her owner passed away and her family came and that is when they found her. They all live out of state and no one wanted her so they surrendered her to the shelter. They have had her for four months and kept putting off having her put-down because she is so sweet. Mom, I had to take her. She looked at me like she knew me and she wouldn’t leave my side. So please, please, please let me keep her. I will take care of all of her expenses. Please.” The look on my daughter’s face told me that she had found that animal we all find sooner or later in our life; that one creature that belongs to us heart and soul.

“Ok…” deep breath “let’s see her.” I said. She opened the door and into the laundry room walked the biggest dog I had ever seen in my life! Feona, all 135 pounds of her, came directly at me, sat down and put her head beneath my hand and looked at me with her large, expressive eyes. “She’s a Mastiff Mom.” I shook my head and sighed. I was beaten and I knew it; but I reserved my right to say when and if she had to go. That was five years ago.

Feona lived with us, let my grandson #1, Derrick, grow up hugging her and napping on her and spent hours laying at my feet while I wrote. She moved with Dara when she got married and became the guardian of grandson #2, Nathanial, when he was born. She gave nothing but love and was loved in return. She only had one problem and that was they no one truly knew how old she was. Tell-tale signs started show and it was decided by our Vet that she had major bone degeneration.

 For the last year Dara did what she could to care for Feona. Medications worked for awhile but it became evident that they were no longer holding pain at bay. She could no longer raise her large frame from her bed without great effort and pain. And we, those who loved her could no longer make her suffer just because we were selfish and wanted her to stay in our lives.

My daughter is the strongest person I know. She waited until we were gone and took Feona to the Vet for one last visit to make sure there was nothing to be done to stop her pain. When she was told that Feona would only get worse she did the thing we all knew would have to be done and let go. She stayed by her kindred spirit’s side. She petted her and hugged her and whispered to her as her beloved friend slipped away. She did this alone. She did it though a part of her was slipping away too. She did it because it was the right thing to do.

I like to think I have raised good, strong, responsible kids who have become compassionate, loving, responsible adults. It is at moments like this that I know I have only been their keeper. That God blessed us with these incredible beings who love so deeply that they would rather tear out their own hearts than to see a creature or a family member, suffer.  We will miss you Feona; but we will miss that young girl who talked us into keeping you more.   

 

 

Feona Marie

How could I say no to that face?

She loved to ride in the truck.

 

 

Keeping a watchful eye on the kids while they played.

 

Ever tolerant of our silliness she allowed us to dress her up as a fairy princess for a pet costume contest. She won in her division and at her prize of a basket of treats before we made it home.

 

 

Grandson #1 Hoss loved hugging Feona. She was wonderful with all children.

 

 

Feona did get a little jealous when the snauzer puppy got a new bed.

 

But after a nap in it she let Chy have her new bed.

 

This is her chair but she was good about sharing.

 

 

She thought she was a lap-dog but shared her chair with PawPaw.

 

Sharing with Dara, Chy and Rufus.

At 135 pounds she was still intimidated by Rufus who weighs in at 9 pounds.

 

This is her happy face!

 

 

Here's Feona barely able to contain herself, celebrating her delight

at Dara and Ryan's engagement.

 









'Just one fry...pleeeeease...'

 



Wearing fluffy hair-clips and a big smile.

 

 

Telling Dara about her day.

 

Trick-or-treating with Hoss, Ryan and Dara. Since she was a bull-mastiff that is a tiny bull-rider on her back. Dara is dressed as a sonogram machine...that's a three-d sonogram image of grandson #2 ND, also known as Beeker. Feona was his gaurdian.

 



 





Two Cowgirls just hanging out after chores.

 

Kindred Spirits, Feona and Dara.

Friends like these come once in a lifetime.

 

 

Thank you Dara for bringing Feona into our lives.

 

And Thank you Feona, for allowing us to share your life.

 

We'll see you in the other side!

 

 

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For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com.

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News and  Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

RIDING DRAG / FIRST ROBIN OF SPRING

 May 14, 2013

 My grandmother always said seeing the first Robin of spring was good luck as their song summons spring. I shared this with my friend Ruth Anne who had never heard this little piece of superstitious lore. Being an open-minded individual, she took this to heart and throughout the dreary gray months of January and February, March and April she looked forward to the first robin and his song. I too looked for the first robin and so was taken a little aback when Ruth Anne called the second week of May with a question.

 “If the first robin of spring that you see is lying on your front porch and the cat is ripping his throat out, is that a bad sign?” she asked.

“Well,” I said, “it doesn’t look good.”  

I had intended to write a parody of the old song “When the Red, Red Robin Comes Bob, Bob Bobbin’ Along”; but I’ve reconsidered; mostly because I couldn’t come up with one that wasn’t totally gruesome.

However, I will share this with you. Winter has been harsh across the nation. We have survived it rather well out here on the plains. I attribute it to our self-reliant culture as Ranchers and Farmers. It has been a long winter and everyone is looking for signs that spring is truly headed our way. Ruth Anne told me that she was very tired of winter weather and asked if one robin means spring is coming, would over a hundred of them at once mean that it is coming very soon?

My answer (with apologies to F.P. Church)…Yes Ruth Anne there is a spring. It exists as surely as Ranchers and Farmers. It exists through our belief that the coming spring will make for better crops and livestock. It exists because we will it to. It springs eternal in every cabin-fever infected soul.  And it lives in the heart of every robin, as long as we control our cats.

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*For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com.

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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News & Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html