Friday, February 9, 2018
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
by Teresa Burleson
They've said it in the newspapers, in books and in the latest publications.
They've said it on television and the radio but it is quite an exaggeration.
They say the cowboy is dead, he's gone and he no longer exists,
But I've seen him and he's out there and the cowboy persists.
If you want to know where he is I'll tell you and forgive me for being blunt,
It depends on who's doing the looking and where you're conducting the hunt.
To find a cowboy you've got to cross a few cattle guards and open a few gates.
You'll travel down some backroads because you won't see him from the interstate.
You'll find him in the southwest from New Mexico to the Pacific coast.
He's riding mesas, breaks and plains, horseback is where you'll find him the most.
Buckaroos are still riding in Nevada, the Great Basin and to the Northwest.
They are Spanish style horseman and think the bosalito and reata are the best.
I've seen him down in Texas with his wide brimmed hat and boot tops with all the stitches.
He's working cattle and riding good horses at Tongue River, Pitchfork and the Sixes.
Way down in Mexico you'll find the Vaquero speaking cowboy in his Mexican lingo.
He ancestors were the first cowpunchers and taught all they knew to the gringo.
The cattle once went up the trail to Montana, the Dakotas and all of the Great Plains.
America's historic cattle drives started there and the legendary cowboy remains.
In the South and down in Florida they call him "cracker" but they are cowboys just the same.They crack a whip to drive the cattle from the swamps and that's how they got that name.
The cowboy may be more abundant in the west but you'll find him all across this great nation.
And where ever he lives and works you can bet, he takes pride in his occupation.
The cowboy resides on the big ranches from east to west and on the small outfits too.
He is Black, Hispanic or Caucasian but either way he is cowboy through and through.
You won't find him in the mall, eating sushi or wearing two hundred dollar jeans.
He won't be on the city streets, in the asphalt jungle or on the silver screen.
You'll find him in the saddle, riding fence, in the working pens and hauling hay.
He's down to earth, breathing fresh air and still living the cowboy way.
So don't believe what you hear, the cowboy is out there and still living by the cowboy code.
You can find him if you know where to look but you may have to take a dirt road.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Yes, Texas is part of "the South." Texas was in the Confederacy and has historically been regarded as part of "the South."
I grew up drinking sweet tea and saying y'all. And everything was fried or had bacon grease or butter on it. I know the difference between light bread, corn bread and biscuits and the difference between sweet milk and buttermilk.
I have always blessed the hearts of those less fortunate or those that pulled a stunt that was believed to be beneath their intellect. And I call people sugah-pie and hunny.
And no offense to people from the northern states but have you ever heard the phrase, Northern Hospitality? I didn't think so! It always been Southern Hospitality!
I am far from being a Southern Belle but I do know how to act like a lady. (I'm not saying I do all the time, just that I know how.)
I know that if a neighbor is going through a difficult time that nothing says neighborly love like a plate of fried chicken and a bowl of banana puddin.
So much of the Southern lifestyle is centered around family and family meals. And according to Wikipedia, studies have shown that Southerners are more conservative than non-Southerners in several areas including religion and morality.
Ah the South! A place where friendly is normal; good manners are expected; good food is a token of love and families still go to church together.
This is something I saw on Facebook and I want to share it with you.
"I am proud to be from the South - where tea is sweet and accents are sweeter; summer starts in April; front porches are wide and words are long; macaroni and cheese is a vegetable; pecan pie is a staple; Y'all is the only proper pronoun; chicken is fried and biscuits come w/ gravy; everything is darlin' and someone is always getting their heart blessed."
Bless y'alls little ol' hearts and y'all have lovely day sugah!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
I am very thankful that I don't live in North Dakota. I just don't know if I could tolerate the cold!
Am I a wimp?!
I couldn't go to work today due to the roads and probably not tomorrow. Our groceries are quickly running out. I can deal with that but I can't tolerate the cold. The weather report says it is -3 wind chill.
When you have livestock to tend too it is a different experience in weather like this than for those who live in town.
We only have two horses and 4 goats to take care of!
I can't imagine what my friend Karla goes through. She is a ranch manager and has many, many head of cattle to care for. But Karla is the epitome of cowgirl.
I am a wimp.
We just came in from feeding. It is soooo cold! I got my glove wet when I was breaking ice on the goats water. When I was walking back I got in a snow drift up to my knees. I lost my balance a little and grabbed the pipe fence and my glove stuck to the pipe. I had to rip it off the fence! By the time I got to the house my glove was frozen stiff!
I have no choice. We have to care for the animals. As long as we have animals I will go out in the cold and get frozen hands and feet and a wind chapped face.
However, I may have to move further south!!
I am a wimp!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
God gave us each a tempo that's keeping time with His spirit.
So we can sing along with Him and let the rest of the world hear it.
My life is made up of rhythms that began with the beat of a heart.
The spirit of man and the elements of land each play an equal part.
Listen close and you'll hear a tune played by the cattle as they graze,
The chewing of cud and swishing of tail wile away the summer days.
I hear the creaking windmill keeping time with the song of the wind,
The wind that is blowing in the clouds that are rains next of kin.
And the beat of those raindrops falling on the roof made of tin,
Bringing the nourishment that will make the prairie dance again.
Or the blatant contrast and the stillness of a hot August drought,
As the pulse of the heat that is bearing down and drying out.
I've danced to the cadence of a horse and the fall of its hooves,
I have sat atop the power and become one with its moves.
It's a ride that beats out a rhythm that fulfills a spiritual need,
And I know the calming measure and meter of my horse eating its feed.
I've experienced the flow of memories that rush in to flood my mind,
They transport me to another place and the lyrics of another time.
I recall the beat of the pots and pans from momma in the kitchen,
As she bustles around, peeling potatoes and frying up the chicken.
And there's the rhythm and the urgency of a newborn baby's cry,
Accompanied by the soft, soothing whisper of a mothers lullaby.
Yes, life is full of rhythms like the lilt of laughter and the flow of tears.
The song may change but the beat remains as I waltz through the years.
Each rhythm has made me who I am and brought me to this place and time.
Each beat has fulfilled a destiny that is so uniquely mine.
The love of the West and all that it holds is a symphony within my spirit.
God has put a poem in my heart and I want the rest of the world to hear it.