About This Blog

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I have loved things Country and Western all of my life. I have loved the ranches and farms, the work, the fields, the barns, livestock, and the food. I was born and raised in Kentucky where I learned to ride and care for horses. Most of my family lived on farms and/or were livestock producers. I have raised various livestock and poultry over the years.I have sold livestock feed and minerals in two states. My big hats and boots are only an outward manifestation of the country life I hold dear to my heart. With the help of rhyme or short story, in recipes or photos, I make an effort in this blog to put into words my day to day observations of all things rural; the things that I see and hear, from under my hat. All poems and short stories, unless noted otherwise, are authored by me. I hope you enjoy following along.

Monday, March 27, 2017

Spring Is Springing


A shroud of gray overhangs the Chicken Ranch today. The golden orb of sun is absent; not a ray of light breaks through the filter of clouds above us. There is no breeze, just a moist stillness surrounding us. It may sound a bit gloomy or depressing, but really, as I take a closer look, just the opposite is true.
 
A gentle rain quietly cascades upon the trees and fields, barely visible, and yet enough to wet the slicker on my back and the cowboy hat on my head. Branches and twigs are shiny with wetness. The tic-tic sound of its fall upon the metal roofs, and the steady staccato of water dropping through the buildings’ downspouts, makes the peaceful music of a gentle Spring rain. As I wrap my hands around my coffee mug, I think that Mother Earth must require a deep drink to quench the thirst of budding trees and bushes, and the acres of grasslands and pastures, after a long winters nap.

The birds sing and chirp in a happy merriment; just as if the sun was shining in a blaze of warmth and light. The mating dances of Robins and Blackbirds are winged and stepped despite the complete wetness. Procreation would never stand still because of a little rain. New nests appear each day in the limbs of barely leafed trees.

Right below me, a centipede crawls across the needle droppings of a pine tree. I watch his twisting, curving walk as he appears to fight for control of the army of legs beneath him. Squirrels prance upon the boughs and shower the earth below as they jump from one tree to another. The neighbors’ horses are cropping the new grass along the fence and occasionally give their head a shake, give me a look of hello, and return to their nibbling.

No, the animal kingdom is not at all perturbed about this day; they embrace it.

Each drop of rain seems to cause a bud to open and the earth to part for another shoot to appear. The bright yellow of the Forsythia does its best to brighten the day. The crab-apple and plum trees here are covered in a mass of white or pink petals. As the petals fall like snow, the ground beneath is livened from its winter drab. The trees seem to await a signal that will put them all in a breathtaking explosion of color. These flowering trees rival the colors of Autumn…and are just as appreciated. And the ground too is showing its welcoming of the rain.

Hyacinths are peeking through the leaves here and there. Yellow and buttercup daffodils bloom in cheery Easter bonnets. The pointy green stems of the hostas are presenting, and the Columbine and Bleeding Hearts grow taller right before my eyes. Soon these flowers will put on a dazzling display of their own.

All of nature seems to love this day. The rain brings needed moisture to promote growth. The clouds temper a broiling sun, as if to protect the green shoots as they establish themselves. In the dampness of this day there is the feel of newness, of refreshing and growth. The promise of warm days is in the wings, and summer leaves and flowers begin their adolescences. Spring, in all its awaited glory, is springing.

Today may appear still and a bit gloomy, but as I look closer at the budding and blooming trees, the ever-greening plants and grasses, as I hear and watch the dancing and singing birds, thawed insects walking above the ground, it occurs to me that this day is anything but still. And as for gloomy? What’s not to love about the music of the rain dancing on tin roofs? How can a day so full of wonder and promise be gloomy? This day is a day of glorious anticipation... and hope realized.

It is neither still nor gloomy in any way at The Chicken Ranch today. No... I’d say this day is nothing short of magnificent.

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