When you are married to a working cowboy, you often look out the window to see this sight…
Usually with My Cowboy, he has stopped in to use the phone, since the cell phone doesn’t always have service out here. He likes to grab a piece of pie or a cookie when he goes out the door. If he’s in the tractor, he’ll take a cup of coffee, too, but that doesn’t work so well a’horseback. He doesn’t sit and shoot the breeze with me, though…he’s very conscious of the fact that he is being paid for his time, and so he makes his calls and then leaves.
(By the way, how do you unhook a horse-trailer from a Suburban? I took it to town the other day, and after I nicely backed it into place, I could not get it unhooked. Yes, I jumped on the bumper, etc, but to no avail. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that a few years ago I started driving without taking up the jack, and now the hitch is somewhat bent…the Suburban has a small dent in the bumper now, but I am sure its not from my backing skills. ahem. really, cowboy’s wives should not have to pull trailers. Or at least not this cowboy’s wife. Its not her thing.)
His poor, cracked fingers. His pinky
finger on his right hand has deep cracks in the side of it that never heal. Its his roping hand, and when he dallies the rope around the horn, that finger gets alot
of friction from the rope. It keeps it cracked and painful. He has it super-glued and taped at all times. I cannot tell you how much I would like to find a cure for dry skin.
Riding out to doctor yearlings. He will be riding all afternoon, but that’s ok
. Roping is his favorite part of ranch work.
I love My Cowboy.
When I tried to power up my computer last Friday, it wouldn’t. It bravely tried, sending a few weak glimmers of blue light and tiny squeaks, but to no avail. I tried unplugging it, restarting it, etc. Nothing. So off to the shop it went. It took exactly one week and ‘way over one hundred dollars, but its fixed. Thankfully. I am a terrible about procrastinating, and when I thought my pc was doomed, I was frantically trying to think how to save all my precious photos. And I am not even a photographer. But I love my photos. Fiercely. I do not want to lose even one. So yes, topping my to-do list now is ‘burn pics onto cd’s’. If I can quit catching up on emails, FB, Pioneer Woman, The Garden Web, etc, etc.
Our good friend from Germany. I love the horse.
My fun sister. Love you, Rose.
…and it would have been sad to lose all the pictures from CK Custom Leather.
My Cowboy does quality work. In case you’re interested.
I have been wanting a bigger cast iron skillet for awhile now. I finally remembered that I had a dutch oven in my camping gear, so I dug it out yesterday afternoon, and scrubbed all the campfire soot off of it. Here is what I made…
Pork roast. Around 2 lbs. You could use beef, too, if pork isn’t your thing. We love pork. Mine was only 1/2 thawed, but I just used it anyway.
Put a blob of bacon fat in the skillet. Heat to med-high. Put your roast into the pan. It will sizzle and pop – that’s good. You want to get it nice and brown on both sides. I just left the fat on the roast – it made it more juicy, and then we just trimmed it off our pieces.
Maybe 5 minutes per side.
Halve 4 potatoes, and chop an onion into 8 pieces.
When the roast is browned nicely on both sides, throw the veggies in the pan, and add 1 cup water. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, and garlic powder. Oh, and stick a few cute baby carrots inbetween the potatoes, it makes it more colorful!
Then cover and roast for 1 hour. I don’t know why the lid for my Dutch oven is so spotted. It really was clean.
Yum! I drained the broth and made gravy, but that’s optional, and I forgot to take photos of that part!
It really was so easy and good.
Dutch Oven Roast
2 Tablespoons bacon fat or oil
2 lb roast
1 cup water
Heat the oil on med-hi heat in the dutch oven. Sear the roast on both sides till golden brown. Put the chopped veggies in beside the roast. Pour water in the pan. Sprinkle veggies and roast with salt, garlic powder, and black pepper. Roast 1 hour at 350*.
I decided to have a productive day on my 30th birthday, instead of my usual lazy excuse of: “well, its my birthday, so I will just read a book all day…” I figured I would feel better, plus the fruit needed done up. I was right; I felt so good at the end of the day. Good and tired. But it was a productive day, that’s for sure. And I even snapped a few pics of the whole process. Here we are, deep in the mess of canning. I canned some oranges that were getting soft, and made apple pie filling.
This is my favorite photo of the day. Look at those tiny, cutie-pie fingers! Lucia actually allowed me to paint her nails a few nights ago, and I love how adorable it is.
Can we say: Apple pies, anyone?
Jenni is my big helper. She enjoys the
whole canning process.
! finally! finished up just in time to go out to eat with the family! What a treat, to not have to cook a meal after a day of canning!
I enjoy canning. Its fun to have jars of yummy-ness
on the shelves. As My Cowboy would say: ” Let her eat of the fruit of her labors.” I don’t know if that is Biblically
correct. But it sounds nice. And it’s nice to know he’s proud of my efforts at homemaking.
….to load a steer into a trailer? ~Just one, if he knows what he’s doing. Like My Cowboy.
Lookin’ for the sick steer….
Ahhh, there he is. Get him back to the trailer…
That sick one doesn’t want to move… yank his tail, Cliff, till he feels differently! (I love the cowboy’s method!
In the trailer… he doesn’t even bother to get off his horse to shut the door. Cowboys do everything possible a’horseback.
Here comes My Cowboy! Winter garb is not as glamorous as summer gear, but this is real life, folks. Wool hats and Carhartt coats. Excuse me while I give my favorite cowboy a kiss….
All I wanted to do was walk over to where My Cowboy was doctoring a steer, and get some good close-ups. Is that too much to ask? But yes. These critters followed me like a pack of puppies. They can be so annoying.
My Cowboy’s horse ~Diva, didn’t like a herd of adolescent bovines running at her full tilt, so she swung around and started to act up. Whereupon I immediately
stopped and walked back to my car. I didn’t want to make My Cowboy have to rope that steer all over again, just cause some dumb yearlings insisted on following me, en masse
! What a shy sweetie. not.
at? Your hair is funky.
No, I am not talking about Dr’s, in the traditional sense. I’m not even talking about vets, although these guys come pretty close to that description. I’m talking about cowboys. The guys who doctor calves all the time. Most days of the week, in fact. Including Saturdays and sometimes Sundays. I hate when they have to do it on Sunday. I want My Cowboy all to myself on Sunday.During the fall they get semi-loads of calves – fresh off their mamas, and those babies get sick. Alot. They get pneumonia. Pink-eye. Coughs. Brisket. Water belly. (Known in humans as kidney stones.) And various other complaints, that I do not keep up with. So these guys learn to doctor the calves themselves. Most of them have no training. They haven’t looked at a book with photos of how each disease looks. They just learn by doing. And from other cowboys who have dealt with that particular problem before. The primary purpose of saddlebags is to carry medicine. I know Hollywood says its for cute canteens and some jerky, but most Hollywood guys have probably never been real cowboys. My apologies to John Wayne. I love your movies.
Anyways, back to the doctoring.
They carry several kinds of meds with them at all times. Antibiotic, vitamin B, painkiller, etc. So on an average day, My Cowboy will feed hay in the morning, and then after dinner he saddles up and rides through the yearlings, looking for any sign of sickness. When he sees one limping, runny-eyed, or just in general under the weather,
his partner will rope the head, and My Cowboy will rope the heels. Then he grabs his med bag, and gives shots, lances abscesses, glues on eye-patches, or whatever needs done. Sometimes he has to yell at Cisco to keep the rope tight. You don’t really want a 500lb steer getting tangled up with you in a loose rope.
Often My Cowboy has to ride alone. No partner to help rope. It takes longer that way. He told me the other day that he had only an hour and a half to ride, and he roped and doctored 5 steers in that amount of time. Alone. That’s 18 minutes per calf. Not bad. Definitely not bad. I dare you to try and beat that – out here on the wide open prairie.
I love My Cowboy.