Author: Heather Countryman

As I was attempting to slow my horse down for the umpteenth time on a trail ride the other day, and he continued to give me attitude about waiting for the others, it dawned on me, riding this horse is much like traveling in the car with my husband.  Now I know you horsepeople will scoff and say there are ways to work a horse out of these bad habits, but what do you do about a man? My horse has two speeds, fast and faster. So does my spouse.  It starts with mounting up. Twist, my horse, is 10 steps ahead of me and I have barely stabbed the stirrup leaving me hung out to dry halfway over my saddle.  My husband also does this.  He pulls out of the garage before I am even in the car.  God forbid I forgot something in the house!  Once out on the trail or in the car, Heather shall not suggest the direction we go.  Apparently neither species of male need any help in THAT department! It is also imperative that we travel at high speeds with no stopping for a bathroom break or to check on anyone in the backseat or behind us.  They both give me looks like “why didn’t you go before we left?!”  On the rare occasion we do stop, I believe both horse and husband clench their jaws and chomp at the bit, literally. (It takes great restraint but I resist the urge to bean either one over the head!) High speeds continue throughout the travels, and if we are behind anyone, tailgating prevails. My horse blows and snorts (his form of cussing) and my husband constantly looks for the next spot to pass, swerving left and blaming the dumb female driver in front of him! I also feel my horse is opposed to women drivers!  If I do suggest the direction we go, there is a lot of pouting, huffing, and sighing much like a two year old being told no.  The best direction to both horse and husband is home, and we can’t get there fast enough.  Finally, upon arrival, we skid in sideways, windblown, leaving me wondering if all that attitude was necessary?  I sure wouldn’t have called it fun!  Apparently I was just along for the ride.

I spend a lot of time pondering my next great masterpiece as I ride down the trail. And as I was worrying about all the things I needed to do at “home” while I was out riding, it dawned on me… stop worrying.. Heather, you are home.

“Home is where the heart is”
I often hear folks say.
For me, that ode rings true
A little more each and every day.

‘Cause, you see, home to me,
It’s in the heart of my horse
As he carefully picks his way
O’er a rough and rocky course.

It’s not four walls made of wood and stone,
It’s not the roof over my head.
It’s the night’s starry blanket
That’s where I choose to lay my head.

Home is the comfort of the leather
My saddle, used and worn.
It fits my horse right fine.
And weathers many a storm.

Home is the Montana mountains
With wildflowers in full bloom.
The time I get to spend
In my Maker’s ‘living room’.

Home’s the early morning sound
Of horse bells ringing in my ear
As they graze to get their fill
For the day’s work drawing near.

Home is cowboy coffee
Brewed black, hot, and strong.
The first sip of the morning
Helps me ready to get a move on.

Home is friendly smiles and conversation
With guests ’round the campfire’s glow.
Feels like troubles are gone a while,
And the good of life we get to show.

Home is the distant memories
Recalled of special moments shared 
As Grandpa talked about these same things
And about his life and cares.

So, home can’t get much better,
Until I meet the good Lord above.
And when I ride that trail for one last time,
I will thank Him for this life I love.

Dude season is in full swing.  It became evident when guiding my first trail ride of the season.  The rest of you call them tourists, but I call ’em dudes. 

The first sunny weekend was here, and I finally had an excuse to leave the confines of my refines. I was looking forward to catching my horse and hitting the trail; even if that meant showing dudes Montana’s splendor atop an ornery dude horse.  Truth is, I love my job, and if it wasn’t for these so called dudes, I wouldn’t have a job at all.  But I still laugh when I picture this guy.
A group of people showed up in the barnyard for their morning ride, and amongst that group, was a skinny jean, penny loafer wearing “dude”.  We recommend appropriate riding attire, and I have seen people show up in all sorts of outfits: flip flops, skirts, shorts…you name it; but this guy took the cake in his pink t-shirt, penny loafers, and skinny jeans.  Now, if you have not had the pleasure of seeing what skinny jeans look like, imagine sausage casings…tight and “skinny” at the bottom leaving little room for movement.  (It is my humble opinion such jeans should not be allowed on ANY two legged creature!) Now, picture tight skinny jeans while mounting a horse. No go.  He squatted and stretched his way around the horse, but it was to no avail.  He looked like drunk, peg-legged penguin trying attempt cheerleading jumps while trying to get his foot in a stirrup three feet off the ground.  If my giggling wasn’t enough, the horse’s look at this guy was priceless. I do believe the horse rolled his eyes. Well with help from the mounting block, the dude finally made it aboard only to endure what proceeded to be the longest two hours of his life.  Well, he did make the ride, munching, trotting horse and all, but if watching him try to mount the horse wasn’t funny enough, you can imagine the dismount. I am still laughing…Yep, dude season is in full swing.

Cowgirl Ramblings: The Old Mare Heads to the Gym: Dieting and Exercising…ugh… All of us would like to actually weigh what our driver’s license says. 130 lbs. Yeah. That may currently…

Hi y’all! Been a while since I have had the time to entertain the idea of writing anything worthwhile.  Hope this finds all of you getting your jolly asses in the HO HO HO state of mind, as that time of year has arrived again. 

Recently, I decided to delve into the vacuum suction called Pinterest, which I will admit is like the worst centrifigal? or centripical? ( I can never remeber which sucks what which way) force I have ever experienced.  I thought Facebook was bad enough.  It turns out, there is just a lot of cool crap out there that I can pin to my boards.    Some of you may know that I like to try my hand at western arts and crafts, so the world of Pinterest allows me expand upon my ideas (brilliant I might add).  Some of you may also know that my love for a spectacular cocktail, sweet wine, and frosty, cold beer is exponential.  So you can imagine my excitement when I browsed upon the idea of combining two of my favorite pasttimes, drinking and crafting, and making whiskey bottle lamps! I even thought I could go so far as to create a board called “Cool Shit I Drink & Glue”!  Upon further browsing, I pinned favorite yoga poses, my insane attempt at feminity featuring (gasp!) beauty products, (gulp) dresses and jewelry, hairstyles, and more.  The world of Pinterest is truly amazing…sigh…

So, to make a long story short, if you too have been hoovered in by this damn time-sucking website, you can now find Cowgirl Ramblings on there, too. Your life may never be the same… Happy pinning!

http://pinterest.com/cowgirlrambling/

Hello to my loyal 13! I apologize for the hiatus from blogging these past few months. I have been so busy that I can’t tell whether I lost my horse or found my rope.  I hope to get back in the saddle ( back to writing ) soon, but I am in serious need of some new material.  You would think, me being me, I would be subject enough to cover for a lifetime… Rest assured, I am working on new material, and you all will be wishing I had taken a longer break! Until then, ride some new trails for me!

This is for my sister, Jamie, in honor of the many conversations we have about our ability to become spastic at the drop of a hat…

All of us crazed moms and wives at one point or another have opened up the refrigerator and found our car keys sitting on the shelf next to the gallon of milk.  WTF? you may ask yourself.  Here is how mine get there…

Well, it just so happened that on the way out the door to run errands, I realized the laundry needed changed over, and as I was reaching for the fabric softener, I noticed it was gone.  Leaving the laundry,  I went to add it to the grocery list next to the phone, when it rang.  It’s my sister, and as we visit along, I see cobwebs adorning my ceiling and every other nook and cranny.  So as I cradle the phone, I move the chair from the dining room table to stand on to clean the cobwebs, when I notice the kitchen floor needs swept. Badly. I move the chair, sweep the floor, and as I sweep past the dishwasher, the light is blinking green signaling clean dishes.  I better unload the clean dishes, because the sink is full of dirty ones. Broom propped, still talking on the phone, my cell phone blinks signaling a text, so I answer the text while talking on the phone, and it dawns on me that I need to check an assignment for college with my professor.  I am talking on the phone, answering a text, and logging on to my college website, when I see my stack of unread mail.  I open the mail, find the past due propane bill, next to the stamps I was looking for to mail the bill out yesterday.  Shit.  Still on the phone, I leave the computer half logged in, and go to fetch an envelope, when I realize I am out of envelopes.  I go to add envelopes to the grocery list, and forgot I still need to add dryer sheets, which reminds me, I never switched the laundry.  Back to the laundry room, I start to sort a new load of laundry, and dry the wet, still talking on the phone. OK. I have to pee. Sitting on the toilet, talking on the phone, I see that there is no toilet paper. Hmmm… well ain’t that special. Cupping the phone between shoulder and ear, I pull the last little shred of paper from the roll, making a mental note to change the roll when I get done. I leave the bathroom, forgetting to change the roll, and walk past my son’s bedroom noticing an unmade bed.  I make the bed, pick up his laundry, and see the past due library book. Can’t this kid remember anything?  I  pick up the book to drop off at the school during my errands, when I again notice a cobweb. Oh yeah…cobwebs.  Back to the chair at the dining room table, still on the phone, I reach to get rid of the cobwebs. As I finish the cobwebs, and put the chair away, I look at the clock reflecting the time of day. Crap. Day is half over. I tell my sister I have to go, so I hang up the phone. I see the grocery list next to the phone and think I better put that in my purse so I don’t forget it. Wait, where is my purse? My purse is in the car, which I think I left in the garage. As I walk to the door through the laundry room, I realize I never started the dryer. I start the dryer, head to the car, and as I walk past the dog’s dish, it appears he needs water and food. His food is in the garage, next to the car, so I get the dog food, go back inside, and notice the dirty dishes never got put in the dishwasher. I load the dishwasher, and reach for the soap, when I see that I am out of dishwasher soap. I better add that to the list. Wait… where is the list? Oh yeah, I meant to put it in my purse. Wait… where in the hell is my purse? Oh yeah, the purse is in the car. Out to the garage to retrieve the purse to put the grocery list in, so I can remember to not forget. I get in the car, and can’t find the keys. I look in my purse, which is a black abyss of receipts, fingernail file, pens, chewing gum, and 43 shades of lipstick. No keys in my purse, so I head back in the house to get… Wait, what am I looking for? Oh, the car keys. Where is my purse? Shit. The purse is in the car, for which I have no idea where the keys may be. Back to the car, to retrieve the purse, to add the grocery list, so I can remember to not forget. Holy crap… I need some caffeine. I go to the refrigerator to grab something to drink, when what do I find? Well hells bells, there are my car keys next to the milk… Go figure…

At the end of the day, I still forgot to mail the propane bill, purchase dryer sheets and envelopes, change the laundry, email my professor, and oh wait… Who is yelling at me from the bathroom?  Apparently I forgot to refill the toilet paper… Thank God I shoved my head up my posterior for safe keeping. Who knows where it will be tomorrow…

Well, I feel as if I have let my audience down lately.  My apologies to my loyal 5 viewers!  I have had nary a second to shower or shave properly with all this fun, fun, fun! You see, I have a 9 year old and 13 year old that require the majority of my banking and escort services to and from basketball practices, cross-country skiing, friends’ houses, dances, and much, much more.  (All of which, seem to be planned at the last minute!)  On top of that, my husband has asked me to be his one and only employee for his snow-plowing and care-taking business while he is at his real job.  Just today, I was privileged enough to drive his beloved plow truck, and it came with full lessons and instructions and a crap-load of responsibility! (Crapload is a standardized unit of measurement! Trust me…)  As if that weren’t enough, there is always the dog and horses to feed.  Oh, did I mention that I also am a board member of our local area chamber of commerce?  Silly me signed herself up to pull off a “Winterfest Weekend” in town, of which I was put in charge of marketing the event, snow sculptures, and collecting auction donations! To add to that fun… it has decided to be winter all in 24 hours dumping 3 feet of snow on us!  That has lead to shovel, plow, cuss, shovel, plow, cuss, snow, plow, shovel, snow, cuss some more… It is liking wiping your ass on a hoop! It is showing no signs of letting up, and to top that off, the school called a SNOW DAY tomorrow! (How the heck am I to get any work done with the little spawns nipping at my heels?) I will be yelling, “Shut up! and Stop that! and QUIT FIGHTING!” nonstop.  I guess I shall enforce child labor tomorrow!  Besides that, the laundry and dishes have fornicated AND multiplied without my consent, and it looks like the mud room has vomited snow clothes all over the house… Ho hum… with all of this, I haven’t had the time to sit and be creative.  My brain is fried, and I am pretty sure I need a stiff drink. So, hopefully after the grand Winterfest weekend is over, the snow stops falling, and the kids go back to school, I will have time to sit down and write something more meaningful.  For now, I have nothing important to write about, so my sarcastic spoils will have to do.  Until next week…   Oh wait! Did I mention I just enrolled in college to get my bachelor of science degree in elementary education?  Beam me up, Scotty!

Nothing in life takes the place in your heart reserved for a best friend.  You might laugh when I say it is a horse that owns that spot, but if you knew the story behind it, you would know why.  Because, well, there will never be another horse like him…

My brother, Ralph, age 17, was finally on his way home.  For a year and half, he had battled leukemia, and was returning home from Seattle, where he had received a bone marrow transplant from a non-familial donor.  It was a long road to home…paved with heartache, hope, disappointment, strength, love and God’s grace.  We were in the dead heat of summer, guest ranch in full swing, and I was anxiously awaiting my brother and mom’s arrival.  Six months earlier, I didn’t know if I would ever see my brother again, and I had not had the chance to get to Seattle to see him through any of his treatment.  There was family, jobs, and loose ends at home that needed to be watched over, so their coming home symbolized so much for all of us.  Finally, down the dusty road, came their car, pulling into the ranch.  Thank you Lord, they were home!

As Ralph stepped from the vehicle, tears began to flow down my face.  He was here.  Really here.  Pale, somehwhat fragile, weakened from months of chemotherapy, radiation, medication, and transplant.  But he was breathing, alive, and standing in front of me, hat crooked sideways and a smile on his face.  “I’m home, Sis.”

As the summer went on, Ralph became restless.  He had strict instructions to be careful in the sunlight; a weakened immune system left him vulnerable to the slightest illness and bacterial diseases.  The barnyard was the last place he was supposed to be. But Ralph, needed to breathe fresh air, see and feel the world around him, and touch a horse.  During his treatment, his horse had gone lame, and had to be sold.  It was yet another blow.  Ralph loved his horses, passionately.

So, one quiet afternoon lent itself to a car ride to town together.  I had some errands to run for the ranch, and Ralph decided to tag along for company.  We discussed girls, music, and inevitably…horses.  Our conversations frequently turned to the favorite subject.  Confirmation, bloodlines, dreams of owning many, many horses in the future… Stopping at the gas station, we picked up a local paper; flipping to the ranch classifieds first was the usual routine.  The rest of the news could wait.  As I glanced over the horse ads, I came across one that caught my eye.  Everything sounded right in the ad, so we decided what the heck?  One of our favorite pastimes…looking at nags, well breds, and somewhats.  Any excuse for a road trip to look at horse is NEVER a waste of time in our book!  So, errands aside, we set out to horse shop!

We drove along, counting mile markers, and watching road signs.  Finally, reaching the correct address, we pulled in the driveway.  Two chestnut horses picked their heads up, watching us as we got out.  One looking a little older than the other, and a little rougher around the edges, wandered his way to the gate.  The other stayed back, watching from a distance.  The owner came to greet us, carrying a halter with her.  Catching both horses, I asked questions, and looked over the horses.  The younger one, “Cruz”, caught my eye.  Ralph quietly observed from a distance.  I could see his interest was also piqued by the younger horse, and I think the horse was eyeballing him.  As Ralph touched the horse, a grin spread across his face.  The horse turned to sniff at him.  I knew this horse was coming home with my brother.  He had been a college girl’s project at Montana State, and she now needed the funds to finish school.  If we weren’t sold already on his looks, his disposition had us writing the check.  Quickly.  Ralph became the proud owner of a chestnut quarter horse gelding with, two hind socks, and a white star in his face.  We didn’t have a trailer, but assured the lady we would be back that afternoon to pick him up.

As we drove down the road, Ralph was all smiles.  I asked him, “What are you going to name him? Are you going to keep his name?”  Ralph answered, “No. I think he needs a new name.  Something to make him mine.  Do you have any ideas?”  We ran through the usual list of names, but nothing fit.  Finally, I asked him, “Who is someone that inspires you?”  Ralph thought a while, and answered, “Well, I have always been a Dallas Cowboys fan, and my favorite player as a boy was Emmitt Smith.” And so it was… Emmitt was the horse’s name.

We brought Emmitt home that evening.  As we pulled in the barnyard, we were welcomed by Mom, Dad, and the whole ranch gang. Everyone knew what it meant to Ralph to have this horse.  I was able to be a part of something special.  I couldn’t be there for Ralph during his treatment, but I could be there to start a new chapter of his life.  This was a new beginning…

It’s been 7 1/2 years since that day Ralph met Emmitt.  It’s still one of my favorite days and memories. Ever.  Together, they have climbed mountains, guided hunters, chased horses, and led mules.  Somedays, I am not sure which is more bull-headed and ornery of the two.  Occasionally, others are lucky enough to throw a leg over this horse, but nobody gets Emmitt like Ralph. Nobody.  Their relationship is the culmination of strength, heart, and grit. None of which Ralph could not have survived without.  They started a new journey of healing and growing together.  Emmitt gave something to Ralph that no man ever could… A bond that can never be broken.  Hats off to you, Emmitt!