Happy New Year!

Wishing you all a blessed, joyous and happy New Year

from the bucolic Mesquite Groves of

Olde Texas!

Be safe and God bless,

LSP

Ride Like The Wind

I won't lie, we pretty much flew along over the fields and trails after Mass today. But when not going full tilt hell for leather and Devil take the hindmost, I worked on collection, posting trot and basic horsemanship.

Go on, Run at That Tree

Running at a tree and then galloping around it was pretty good fun; working on serpentines with minimal use of reins was maybe less so, but probably a more valuable exercise. And I won't discount the importance of galloping through the bucolic Mesquite trails of Olde Texas. Careful there, fella, don't get your eye gouged out!

See, That's What Happens

Thorns aside, it was good to simply explore the land on horseback, I find that relaxing, it clears the head. And think, not too long ago, almost within living memory, this county was only just settled, and even that might be stretching a point. But for all its lawlessness, and there was plenty, there weren't many Indian raids. In neighboring counties, sure, but not here. 

A Fairly Typical Tree

As I understand it, people think it was a kind of neutral zone, or "treaty area," which made it comparatively peaceful, as far as the tribes were concerned. Different story of course, if you were John Wesley Hardin.

Spot Hardin. Note, none of these people are in "The Band."

Harding shot and killed somewhere between 20 and 40 people, maybe more, before he was shot in an El Paso Saloon by lawman John Selman. Hardin had killed 8 men by the time he was 16 and I mentioned that to my friend who kindly lets me ride on his ranch. "The thing about him," he said, "is that he just wasn't sane."

It's more than conceivable, in fact it is likely, that Hardin rode through or very near the land I was riding on today. 

Mind how you go,

LSP

Get on The Horse

You can be a sad determinist or some variety of Calvinist and believe that everything is preordained. I chose to exercise my freewill and went for a ride. Don't be a fatalist, I muttered grimly to myself, get on the horse.

We started off slowly, trotting along in the clear air of a crisp, sunny Texan morning and posted off down a trail in the Mesquite. As I understand it, posting trot isn't very "Western" but so what, it's good for the horse's back and the rider's sense of rhythm, to say nothing of muscles. They got a good workout.

After a little while it seemed right to open up and off we galloped, not too furiously but plenty fast enough. It's a great feeling, moving at speed with a horse through the countryside.

We finished with some uphill galloping, Go on! Up that hill! followed by a brisk trot back to the barn. I say barn, but it's more of a walk-in with a trailer doing duty as a tack room, and what's wrong with that? Nothing at all.

Ride over, I drove the country route to Waco, down 933, cleverly avoiding the heinous I35, and visited the sick in hospital. One of them's made a pretty miraculous recovery. I thank God for that. And remember, God's knowledge is necessary but it's also eternal and simultaneous, or present tense. 

That doesn't contradict free will. Speaking of which, I'll clean some guns after Stations of the Cross. There's nothing, ahem, predictable about that, at all.

Stay on the horse,

LSP

Country Life in Texas, Part Something or Other

Things started off well. Get up with the dawn, walk the dog, drink some coffee, say Morning Prayer and then go for a ride. That meant driving out to my friend's ranch near Aquilla and meeting up with him and two youngsters. I met them riding down the ranch road and told them I'd catch up, and that's what happened. Tack up and gallop.

As always, it was beautiful to ride out in the morning sun and I enjoyed myself weaving in and around the mesquites and going through the gaits. The kids had fun too, though at a more sedate pace. Thanks a lot, RP, for the riding hospitality.

Ride over, I stopped to get some coffee on the way home and learned that a churchperson was very sick in hospital. So I made a swift turnaround and drove to Waco, but not before taking a picture of my neighbor's peacock. It's one of several and likes to roost in the trees when not shrieking with a high and crazed insanity.

The day finished appropriately, with Stations of the Cross, and that's just the way it is.

God bless,

LSP

Texas Country

In a bold attempt to escape the intense political drama that is daily life in modern America, I drove out to visit the flock. That took me to a ranch, with trees. Those of you who understand the reality of Texas' bucolic Mesquite groves will know how pleasant that is.

I shot at a pig there once, from a moving Gator, and missed.

Heart of Oak,

LSP

Saturday Ride

After my morning routine of Morning Prayer (1928 BCP), walking the dog, drinking coffee and talking with spiritual singing gentlemen of the road, I went for a ride.

It was good to get out in the country and back in the saddle, though my horse disagreed at first. Easy, girl, we're riding on, and that's just the way it is.

Rodeo bronc over, we walked, trotted, cantered and galloped through the bucolic Mesquite groves of Olde Texas. Good thing I was wearing a sturdy Carharrt! Those thorns are big. But seriously, there was room enough to open up and I enjoyed that. Gallop.

After the ride I asked myself if I'd learned anything. Maybe a bit; sit deeper in the saddle, rely more on legs than rein, work with the rhythm of the horse, not against it, use the animal's instinct to get back with the herd to your advantage. All that sort of thing; basic horsemanship skills, and there's nothing wrong with that.

More importantly, it was exhilarating to ride out fast in comparatively untamed country and get away from everything. Just you and the horse. 

There's a freedom in that.

Gun rights,

LSP

Take a Bath, Hippie

At least that's what the horses say, and who can blame them? I rode out on Tres this morning after a week's break, caused by torrential rains and the horses being let loose to pasture in Texas' idyllic Mesquite Groves.

There was a little bit of rodeo (bucking) but nothing too radical. That was worked out by galloping up and down a hill and making our way through trails in the woods.

It was beautiful to ride in the clean, crisp, air and I went back to HQ refreshed and uplifted. Blue Destroyer, in the meanwhile, had chewed up an issue of American Rifleman. And some butter.

I wasn't too happy about that.

LSP

Herding Cats

As I was saddling up, I was attacked by a herd of cats. They launched a frontal assault on my leg, which they climbed, like furry pirates.

When they weren't doing that, they launched wave attacks on my feet. It was hard to move, I tell you, but I shook them off, got on the horse and rode out.

The horse was a bit rebellious, doubtless shook up by the cat attack, but she got over it and we galloped up several hills, took in the scenery, and then went through some woods. Real woods, mind you, not your brush, Mesquite, impenetrable thicket woods. 

By the time we got back to the barn a small herd of cows had displaced the cats and that, readers, is the story of that.

I love riding,

LSP

Get in the Saddle

"For a so-called horseman you sure don't seem to do much riding, LSP," I hear you say, pointedly. Well not so fast. Monday being as good a day as any, I pulled on my Ariats, loaded a Circle Y in the truck and headed off to ride.

Keena

Which is what I did, on Keena, an old Polish Arabian mare who used to race and still has plenty of go. But I didn't push it, just walk, trot and a few short canters around Mesquites.

Front Office

Great to be back in the saddle again and next time I'll open things up a bit for a gallop. Good for mind, soul and body, provided you don't come off and break, obviously.

Ride on,

LSP