When I started this blog I thought it would be more of a walk down memory lane. I haven't even gotten close to the gate yet. Several friends think I have had an interesting and yet exciting life. I am not sure how many people would agree. However, I feel truly blessed for all the people who have been put in my path, and for the knowledge I was able to glean from those opportunities.
When I was just a little girl, 5 or 6 I remember crying myself to sleep because we weren't rodeo stock contractors and lived out near the mountains. I had never been there, but knew that's where I wanted to be. My dad rode bulls until he met mom. My uncle rode bulls and I loved watching him ride! The bulls of that era were much different than today's. Now they are bred like fine horses. They have pedigrees. Bloodlines are crossed to get the best athletes.
I did get to grow up with horses and cattle. I was on my first horse at 2 or 3. Dad would feed loose hay, pitching it by hand onto the flatbed wagon the night before. In the morning he would hitch the team, cookie and butterball, to the wagon. Dad would open the gate, they would walk through,then he would shut the gate. They would then walk methodically around while dad pitched the hay off. Part of the horse harness is the collar. It is the padded piece that goes around the horse's neck. The horse leans into it and pushes while walking, therefore pulling the load behind. The collars have metal bars running parallel with their outside called hames. The hames had shiny metal balls on top and made a wonderful place for small hands to hold on while riding on the horses back.
We also had our pony and uncle's saddle horse. My brother always took our uncle's horse when we played cowboys and indians. He was much bigger than I, so I always had to get shot and fall off. I still remember the pain of the wind being knocked out of me. The burning deep in my chest felt as if I really was shot . As soon as my air returned, he would make us go again.
Ahh the good ole days!
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