Longing to Regain My Femininity

We have all been told to write what we know, so here goes…

I have never considered myself an intellectual, nor am I of the sophisticated sort.  I am a product, in its entirety, of America’s public education system.  Need I say more on the subject?

Scholarly thought runs havoc throughout today’s social realms.  This is my attempt to maintain composure of my ideas, portrayed through what I do know something about.  BRANDING CALVES…

I could not, very well, write prose of life familiar to most.   This is better, this something different.  My perspective.

The numerous responsibilities that life has blessed me with on the ranch, detailed in earlier posts, are often seasonal and change as needs of each changing season unfold.

This season, summer, is the heaviest burdened; and for no other reason than the days are longer and offer more hours of daylight for physical labor.  The ache in my legs, from being kicked, and the rope burns across my wrist woke me too early today.  Licking my cracked lips, I soon realized that I had neglected to apply sunscreen to my own arms.

I never thought that I would hear myself say, “I’m glad I’m not a kid anymore.”  I have graduated from calf wrestling.  Yet my body feels like that is exactly what I spent my day doing.

I’m avoiding the branding mess, listening to a gentle rain wash the dust away.  The crew of cowboys and cowgirls that we had were the best. 

Bless you everyone for working your hearts out!

And it was a fun day to boot.

I must confess, though, that throughout the day of whoops, hollers, dust, dirt and branding smoke, I was longing to regain my femininity.  Never mind sophistication, I would need to strive for that at a later date.

We had an extraordinary task to accomplish.  The task of protecting baby calves health and identifying our livelihood.  While I had the secondary responsibility of keeping the crew well fed and hydrated.

Cowboy's babies

Why we love ranching

The branding was a success for all four hundred head, in a timely manner.  I had feared that we would be roping and wrestling calves by truck light.  We were out of slick (unbranded) calves by five o’clock and in time for dinner, and a couple of rounds at the Elk Horn.

Mark Smith, and his ensemble (I must learn the band’s name.) were setting up.  We listened to a few numbers.  Enjoying the exaggerations about the day’s rodeos and lucky missed wrecks, I listened to the hearty chatter from a unique group of folks.

Yesterday’s work was successful and even fun, because of the suave skills of some extraordinary cowhands.  And a few young ones learning the ropes (puns, always intentional).  I am blessed with this ever-present simple sophistication of hard work and hard-working people.

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