Category: Montana

That’s Woman Logic

Heather CountrymanLeave a comment


Women think we have a logical reason for everything we say and do, whether subtle or blatant.  We don’t understand ourselves any more than the next person, but we always promise an entertaining and enlightening adventure…

For instance, why do we wax or tweeze our eyebrows just to draw them back on? Woman logic. Somewhere in our warped little mind, society has trained us that perfect eyebrows must look better shaped and sculpted and painted on. Who really knows whey we think this looks better?

Why do we eat cucumbers and drink purified water all day and binge drink wine at night? Because we spend all day counting calories and counting steps and counting pounds, and at the end of the day, it was just one giant disappointment. A woman knows her chocolate goes better with wine anyway. Woman logic.

We push leftovers on our families. We shall not waste! We must save money!  We will eat the week old leftover meatloaf before we grocery shop. But…we will try 42 different kinds of face cream at the low, low price of $39.99 each because the first 41 were complete crap. Woman logic.

We sigh. And act dramatic. And make a big deal out of empty toilet paper rolls, overflowing garbage cans, and unemptied dishwashers.  This is our opportune moment to express and perfect our passive, aggressive behaviors by not saying what we want or need.  We sort of relish in making the moment miserable.  Woman logic.

We don’t care where you decide to eat.  But for the love of God, please do not go to the first twelve places you just named.  None of them sound good, and well, we just aren’t feeling it. However, a nice place with a variety on their menu sounds good so we can take an hour to decide what to eat, while ordering everything to the side.  Woman logic.

Date night is a very big deal.  We hint at our male half telling him how long it has been since we’ve been on one.  And when it finally happens, we {gasp!} shave legs, pick out a nice outfit, apply perfume and make-up and take hours getting ready for said date night, only to walk out and ask your guy “how do I look?”  And when he responds, “you look fine, are you ready?” We roll our eyes, storm back to the bedroom, change clothes at least five times, and cry because we are pretty sure he thought we looked fat. And don’t expect the night to end in magical fireworks, because we probably will still be crying and just want you to hold us. That’s woman logic.

We strategically place laundry hampers in places that we think men will notice them, and try to help our men feel more successful about helping out, only to find the the giant pile of dirty laundry stacked next to the hamper.  So we move it to an easier, less subtle location with high hopes of him actually using it the next time.  And get mad two hours later when he clearly still doesn’t it. There’s no need to move it again… he ignored you just fine the first time. Be mad.  That’s woman logic.

A woman is a complex, strange being. Good luck figuring us out, because we are still trying to do the same.  The study of woman logic is on-going, expensive, and intricate, and there are no conclusive results expected any time soon.

Hang in there guys… Haven’t you always enjoyed a perplexing and thrilling mystery?  In the meantime, there is still good, old, reliable beer, hunting, and football.

Happy Trails,

Heather

 

 

 

Look Up

Heather Countryman4 Comments

“Pretty little thing, sometimes you gotta look up, and let this world see all the beauty that you’re made of, because the way you hang your head, nobody can tell, you’re my Virginia Bluebell.” ~Miranda Lambert

I’ve had so many dreams in my life. So many things I thought I would be by now. I’ve outgrown some of them, and some of them have outgrown me. And there are those I still long for to come true. And they will. I have faith.

The first time I saw thirteen year old Rachel Myllymaki run the barrels at a local rodeo, her yellow hair flying out under her hat and her horse on fire, I wanted to be a barrel racer… Some days I still want that.

I wanted to be an equestrian cross-country jumper the first time I watched it on the Olympics.  I borrowed my mom’s dressage saddle and jumped my pony over every log, ditch and downed tree I could find. Until the big girl dreams came along, but some days I still long to take that jump, too.

I wanted to be a female horse trainer and rancher and equine vet. Yes, all of them.  I wanted that big, blue sky ranch with horses as far as they eye could see. I still want that, too.

Nowadays, I find myself longing to help others through horsemanship and the wilderness and helping run the family business. I also want to write novels and short stories and take pictures of the beauty that graces me every day. And I will.

You see, sometimes we outgrow dreams, and sometimes they outgrow us. But they also follow along silently until something, or someone, reminds us that they’re still beating in our heart and soul, and they’re worth giving another thought.

I lost focus along the way. Life changed so fast and my priorities morphed over the years to accommodate choices I made. And it wasn’t bad.  But my dreams didn’t go away. I just forgot to look up. Worrying about failure, worrying about timing, worrying about finances, always worrying and always wondering. And then I finally asked myself why? What in the hell am I waiting for?

We all ask ourselves these questions when we set out on a personal endeavor. The importance of feeding our souls and feeding our dreams with good people, positive thinking, beautiful scenery, love and light, fuels the fire of wanting to accomplish something significant. When we’re passionate about pursuing life, it spills over to others.  It is the want that keeps us trying.

When dreams are written on our hearts with permanent ink, tattooed there, they may fade, but it’s our job to not let ourselves down.  

Don’t be hard on yourself. Take a moment to look back on where you’ve come from, from where all you’ve been. Revel in it. Marvel at it. Evaluate the heartache you’ve felt, but nurture your new found strength. And grow in it, and trust that you’ve got this and God has you.

Despite all you’ve been through, you’re still here. Even though the sun didn’t always shine, you still grew. You’re a mosaic of all the shattered pieces of your life, with the bits of dreams still there and the flicker of hope still burning.

It’s never too late to get your shit together. Because that’s the beginning of something good, something strong, and something that’s right for you. In that pit of anger, of sadness, of frustration… that’s your new beginning. And those tucked away dreams are your way out.

So, pretty little thing, don’t forget to look up, and show the world all the beauty that you’re made of.

Dream big. Dream forever. Live authentic and live true to yourself.

~Happy Trails

Heather

A Pace I Long to Keep

Heather Countryman3 Comments

wp-1470584727537.jpgThese past few summer months have been nothing short of crazy and chaotic between work and home life.  Some of you may know that I work for an electric and telecom company here on the hi-line of Montana, but what you don’t know is I am a credit representative.  That means I get the pleasure of disconnecting services for non-payment and am somehow the late bill and payment negotiater.  Let me just say right off, I am fairly sure this must be karma biting me square in both butt cheeks, because I have had my way a time or three with  a Dish Network or Verizon wireless customer service rep in the past.  Truly, what goes around comes around, but at the end of the day, I usually go home feeling like I’ve been hit by a freight train driven by a sixteen year old that was just given the keys for the first time.  And on my drive home nightly, I ask myself why? What lessons am I learning? How can I be a better person? And as I am beating myself over the head with all these thoughts and “lessons” I am learning in my job, my mind drifts to a simpler time.  A time when I didn’t have to think about much except what to make for dinner… A time I could watch my life unfold between my horse’s ears down a mountain trail at a pace I now find myself longing for…A pace I long to keep.

Between these ears my life unfolds at a pace I long to keep.

Every breath, every thought just makes more sense here.

My heart and mind are put at ease.

No phones are ringing, no device needs response

No man is whining about his selfish needs.

All the while the trail unfolds between my horse’s ears

At a pace I long to keep.

The hustle and bustle of life’s worries & strife

Become a distant sound muffled by my horses’ feet

As ol’ roany clips over God’s landscapes

And I watch my life unfold at a pace I long to keep.

Between these ears I see vistas grand and Big Sky true.

From towering mountain peaks to sagebrush coulee breaks

I think what more could this girl need?

As my horse travels freely along at a pace I long to keep.

You can keep your city life, your heels, dresses and fine wines.

As for me, I will don boots and jeans, while the wind teases my hair

And Roany and I will slow lope across the miles while life unfolds

At the only pace I long to keep.

In closing, be nice to the person on the other end of the phone; she’s just trying to do her job. Your life is a one time offer. Use it well. Love often, share a smile, be kind to one another, lend a hand. Remember what really is important to you in this life, and remember who you want to be. Ride high and stay grounded.

Happy Trails,

Heatherwp-1470584709555.jpg

It Matters

Heather Countryman1 Comment

 

These last few weeks in our country have been rough, raw, emotional, and painful. In these times, I find it hard to find ground that is inspirational and peaceful; I find it difficult to spread words of love without at first having an angry, knee-jerk reaction to the news that is poured out over televisions and social media platforms. Never have I felt our country is more at a loss for direction than now.  I am not so naive as to think that my words will change anything.  I am not educated by society’s standards, I don’t have a degree stating in fact that I am qualified to discuss such matters, but I still have the ability to think for myself.  So, as you read further, please know that it is not my intention to force my thoughts and opinions on anyone; I don’t have a soapbox agenda. We are all entitled to our own ideas, and we will not agree on all subjects political, religious, or social, but I believe that we can all agree that we all matter, all of our lives. Every single one. And so do our every day actions.

I am frustrated with our country; angry that the most privileged of countries cannot see to do better than what we are. The news stories we see are more unfathomable each day.  The value of our lives becomes less with each passing minute. We blame the other and lack accountability for our own actions. We stand in line to fill out welfare applications instead of job applications, and can’t find the time to get our hands dirty to work. Drugs are rampant, theft is higher than ever, and our government sees fit to force gun control on law-abiding gun owners, ethical hunters and outdoors men, until they no longer have a voice.  Terrorism is at an all time high, yet we knowingly fly martyrs and sympathizers of them into our country by the plane full and offer refuge.

Our children are being medicated and given devices to entertain themselves, while obesity is the norm.  We stick our nose in the business of others all under the guise of “doing what is right.”  We no longer divide and conquer and help and serve. We serve ourselves. God has been removed from anything and everything that matters, and we complain. We complain about everything, and act entitled. Animal lives are valued more than humans’. Any sort of tolerance and common sense is ridiculed and otherwise mocked and the pendulum of blame just keeps swinging.  Everyone wants, but nobody wants to work for it. Those that do are taxed to death, medical needs leave us bankrupt, and our country is trillions of dollars in debt, yet we spend it like we just won the lottery.  Our government, our country as a whole, is in dire need of an overhaul of mega proportions.

So don’t tell me one life matters more than another. Your life matters. Mine matters. Hers. His. Blue. Black. White. Common sense matters. Prayer matters. Kindness matters. Unity matters. God matters. Love matters.  Patience and strength matter. Life… It all matters.  Do something with it. Live it. Love it. Own it.  Be the change you wish this world to see. Because more than anything, our actions matter.  Start somewhere. It matters.

Do work. Do Good.

Love,

Heather

For Crap’s Sake…

Heather Countryman3 Comments

It’s been one of those weeks for me…the kind I feel I only have five seconds to reflect and pray on in the few minutes I’m hoping to have an uniterrupted moment while hiding out in the bathroom. But that’s not allowed by Sage, my over anxious border collie. {I have no idea why she’s so anxious?!} And then the ridiculousness of my thought dawns on me: “You’re in the bathroom, Heather, actually on the toilet. That ain’t no place to be praying to God about your crappy week. Rude.Unthoughtful. Sacrilegious.” And then the downward spiral of more unending thoughts and worries and wonders start all over. Like a never-ending journey. And I feel like a real jerk for praying…in a bathroom.

Yeah, it’s been that sort of week. The kind of week prone to mood swings and outbursts and smiles through tears and cuss words of every degree. Everything from Facebook posts to dirty dishes to dog hair and a low bank account have managed to nearly put me over the edge. I’d like to chalk it up to hormones, but sometimes you are just plain, old out of whack.

I forget that in all my stressing about work and family and choices, my pining for the past and worrying about the future, that I’ve created this. This unnecessary mood; the dumb funk I’ve found myself in. I’m selfish.  I’ve forgotten to be grateful; I’ve forgotten to focus on what really matters. And while sitting on the crapper, my dog bores her eyes into my {momentarily} heartless soul, and I smile. Because even though life may feel like the shits at times, I can still choose to flush it.  And I know that sacrilegious or not, a prayer to God in this solitude moment, a moment that only I’m privy to {pun intended} is all I need to realize life is good if I let it be.

For crap’s sake, yours is too.  ❤

When They Call.

Heather Countryman5 Comments

“When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than I.” ~Psalm 61:2
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When they call…those mountains. They call to me this time of year. They call to me always. They call me home. They say it’s time to feel alive again. It’s time to shut out the noise. It’s time to be where you’re most at peace. It’s time be grounded again, yet elevated. It’s time to live simple, and simply live. It’s time for reflection and time to breathe deep. It’s time to awake there and watch the sun rise and glance from peak to peak and warm the evergreen floors and the trail before me. They call…the mountains. They have been for a while now. And they pull on my heartstrings, the thoughts of trekking over miles of terrain, new and familiar, make me want to go, to walk away from everything and everyone, and just go.  They’re the most profound love I have. They’re easier to love. Easier than people, easier than this man-made life. Nothing ever alters that feeling, and nothing else satiates that calling. Because they’re home. Every nuance, every sound, every stream, every tree, every trail, every peak. I feel and hear and see it all, and I know that’s exactly where I belong. I’m never lost here. I’m completely found.

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The trails of the mountains that wind and twist over rock and stream are that of my own heart and soul. And they tell me it’s time to do more than just exist. So I go. I go when the mountains call. I go to find the core of me again, to ride my horse down those trails that beckon, and I go to be happy for this moment. This moment that is my life. The mountains always call…and I will always go. I will always go home…

Happy Trails~
Heather

Wild Once

Heather CountrymanLeave a comment

“Love her, but leave her wild.” ~Atticus

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You’re just some wild thing, with a faraway look in your eyes. The memories of freedom seep back into the unsealed cracks of your buried heart. No one can tell you, no one can really see, what goes on in there, the heart between the one you were, and the one you’re yet to be. It’s a sagebrush sea of haze and blue, to navigate all alone. The place where you crave the shelter, yet seek the crazy storm. The flame and longing in your eyes fuels the fire in man, and everything he loved and admired about you, the wild look, the catch me if you can, the youthful beauty, has become something he unknowingly tries to tame. You learn to give, you learn to bend, but your heart always runs, it runs with the calico pony off into the sun. Those wild winds, they always call, they speak straight to the core of your soul. Stay true to that wild, and stay true to that free. Remember this world can’t break you, it can’t change what you’re really meant to be… Because deep down, you and me, we are always meant to be wild and we are always meant to be free.

Raise ‘Em Up

Heather CountrymanLeave a comment

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This is how kids should spend every day…learning to work, learning their worth, learning to contribute positively to society, learning how strong they can be, learning the physicality of the elements, learning to push themselves beyond their comfort zones, learning teamwork, learning compassion, learning to use common sense, learning that life doesn’t involve a screen and being entertained endlessly, learning to smile and joke and to have a sense of humor, learning to cuss and thank God in the same breath, learning that this is real life, learning a job well done doesn’t necessarily reward you monetarily, but emotionally, and learning to feel good at the end of the day about your accomplishments and to be grateful for the opportunity offered. So, raise them up strong…raise them to know right from wrong. Raise ’em up.

Brandin’

Heather CountrymanLeave a comment

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For my generous friends and their families that have been kind enough to share their way of life with me… Thank you…

I haven’t written much about the hi-line of Montana since moving here.  Mostly, because I was fairly certain that nothing about Havre could compare to the spring beauty of my home in the mountains, but I’ve been proven wrong.  And as much as I love the receding of the snow-line on the mountains, and birth of the wildflowers and watching the ice retreat from it’s alpine lakes, spring on the prairies of central Montana are truly awesome. The foothills of the Bears Paw Mountains are beautiful in their balsam root bloom, the fresh scent of sage, the greening up of winter wheat and alfalfa fields, and pastures full of newborn calves and new mamas that speckle the landscape.

But as picturesque as the landscape is, the ranching and agriculture families of the hi-line are the heart of the country.  That becomes so evident during the spring and branding season.  Ranchers are a proud, hard-working lot that carve their livelihood out of the formidable landscapes of the west.  Raising cattle ain’t for the faint of heart.

By the graciousness of my friend and co-worker, I was allowed to spend the weekend riding and to help out with their branding.  I didn’t grow up working cattle; the mountain horses and mules from our dude ranch were my exposure to livestock.  And I thought I had somewhat of  a handle on that cowgirl lifestyle…until now.  I’ve ridden rugged mountain terrain all of my life, and the prairie handed me my hind parts on a worn leather platter. Those hawthorn-covered coulees are steeper than they look when you’re at run downhill after a wiley little calf.  We pushed cows and calves where cows and calves didn’t want to go. And my horse worked harder than he’s probably ever worked since I’ve owned him.  I swear we covered 20 miles in 10, and the majority of it at trot or run. That grass wasn’t growing under anyone’s feet.

Eventually all the cattle were penned and separated, and once the branding started, it was all hands on deck. There were family members, neighbors, strangers and friends all working to get the same job done.  There were calves making men outta young boys bucking and kicking all the way to the fire.  There were no gender roles, girls roping, and handling stock just the same as the next.  Fathers helping daughters, husbands working with wives, and kids working with kids, and the older generation helped guide and coach the younger along. I let my eyes take it all in and felt a lump rise in my throat. These moments are exactly what life is all about.

At the end of the day, the cattle were branded, cold beers were drank , good food was eaten, and stories about back in the day were shared around the table. With pride for a job well done, and feeling lucky to have been part of this tradition, I threw my leg back over my ol’ roan horse and we headed out to push the cattle back out.  What a sight watching mamas join back up with babies as the bawled and called their way back up over the hillsides.

The smiles in the eyes, the ‘thank yous’ and the ‘good jobs’ were generously passed around.  It was an honor to be part of something so worthwhile, with people I am proud to call my friends.  And the best part was being asked back to do it all over again the next day…

I will forever be grateful for these opportunities that the generous families around here have been kind enough to ask me to be a part of.  Life is good on the ‘ol hi-line, and it’s even better in the brandin’ pen.

Happy Trails,

Heather