I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Tag: horses

  • and they called it puppy love

    and they called it puppy love


    rural Grimes County, Texas circa 1948

    first of a lifetime of puppies: Scooter

    sniff, sniff – do I belong with you?

    Scooter and the little girl grew up together as best friends, as family

    the little girl had other four-legged friends that came to visit

    she loved horses, too – but they were very big

    the little girl frequently walked the dirt road from her house

    to her grandpa’s barbershop in town where she would sit in the window

    Scooter waited patiently for her – he was getting bigger, too

    And they called it puppy love, oh I guess they’ll never know how a young heart, how it really feels and why I’ve loved them so. (Paul Anka)

  • the horse you draw is the one you’ll ride


    I originally published this post on December 28, 2013. While I had this conversation with one of my first cousins in Texas after Christmas six years ago, I found his words strangely spoke to me today as a spike in South Carolina coronavirus cases brought the pandemic closer and closer to Pretty and me.

    ****************************

    A year can fly past in a hurry and yet the passage of time, regardless of our perception of its speed, never leaves us unchanged. I was talking to a cousin who called me on Christmas Day to wish me a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.  I appreciated the call and the visit we had. The thousand miles that separated us couldn’t break the ties that bind us through our DNA.

    We were talking about the vicissitudes of life, as my daddy used to call them, and Gaylen who has spent over forty years hanging out with cowboys at rodeos in and around the Houston area told me one of their favorite quotes:  “The horse you draw is the one you’ll ride.”

    I like it.  No apologies.  No excuses.  No whining about why did I get this horse.  No wondering about whether this rodeo was one I should’ve signed up for.  No mulling over how I ever got to be a cowboy in the first place.  It’s now or it’s never – so you ride.

    ****************************

    Stay safe, stay sane and please stay tuned.

     

  • The Horse You Draw is the One You’ll Ride


    Through the good and lean years and through all the in-between years…is a line from Frank Sinatra’s hit tune All the Way.  I looked through the archives of my posts and saw that my final post of 2012 was a blow-by-blow recap of that year in review for my life.  Not a bad post for one titled The In-Between Years but it seems like such a long time ago in a land far away from where I am today.  A year can fly past in a hurry and yet, the passage of time, regardless of our perception of its speed, never leaves us unchanged.

    I rarely “mix” blogs, but I want to quote The Red Man’s opinion of 2013 in his final December, 2012 post.  He has such a way with words.

    I’m not sure what my plans are for the New Year, but I don’t like the sound of 2013.   It’s an odd-numbered year, and I don’t accept odd-numbered years as authentic.  I would prefer to have all even-numbered years.  So we’d skip 2013 and go right on to 2014 and then 2016 and so on.   You get the picture.

    Yes, Red Man, I do get the picture and you are a prophet in your own ‘Hood.  2013 was one of those lean years Frank Sinatra sang about.  To tell the truth, the bad so outweighed the good I won’t bother to review it.  The better news is it’s finally coming to a close and 2014 is just around the next Bowl Game.

    I was talking to a cousin who called me on Christmas Day to wish me a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.  I appreciated the call and the visit we had.  The thousand miles that separated us couldn’t break the ties that bind us.

    We were talking about the vicissitudes of life, as my daddy used to call them, and Gaylen who has spent over forty years hanging out with cowboys at rodeos told me one of their favorite quotes:  The horse you draw is the one you’ll ride. 

    I like it.  No apologies.  No excuses.  No whining about why did I get this horse.  No wondering about whether this rodeo was one I should’ve signed up for.  No mulling over how I ever got to be a cowboy in the first place.  It’s now or it’s never – so you ride.

    I have hope for 2014 along with The Red Man who loves even-numbered years and am optimistic that I will be a better person in the New Year.  I can’t control the rodeos around me, but I have been reminded I can still ride.

    I hope the horses you draw in 2014 will be ones you’ll want to ride.

    Teresa and I wish you all a Happy New Year from our family to yours!

  • Old Plantersville Road

    Old Plantersville Road


    If today were the last day of your life, where would you want to be?   This is not a trick question.   There are no right or wrong answers and everyone makes an A.   So take a magic mental ride to Wherever-the-Land moves you…

    As for me, I’d be on Old Plantersville Road in Montgomery County, Texas, USA, which is where I was today.   The county workers were mowing the grass and weeds along OPR while I walked with my old dog Annie and the smell of freshly mowed winter clover was intoxicating.   Clouds hid the Texas sun but they were friendly non-threatening light grey wisps that moved quickly from west to east and didn’t bother me a bit.

    I have friends that live in the pastures in the small farms along Old Plantersville Road.   At least, I consider them to be friends as I consider OPR itself to be a friend, but these beauties have limited interest in me and my dog.

    Ho hum.   Just another day in Paradise.

    Is that an Apple?

    Let’s pretend we don’t see it.

    Ok.  How often do we see an Apple on our fence post?

    It’s such a pretty Apple, and it smells so good.

    Who was it who warned us about eating Apples?   I’m thinking they were kidding.

    I don’t think one little Apple could be a problem.   Let’s go for it.

    Delicious.   And I don’t feel the least bit guilty, do you?   Nope.

    The End.

    This is why I love Old Plantersville Road.

    **************

    From one of my earliest posts – when Pretty and I were “bi-stateual” in 2012 – I was in Texas on Worsham Street in Montgomery and Pretty was in South Carolina at Casa de Canterbury.

  • I Shoulda Been A Cowboy


    I put the key in the ignition of my pickup truck to leave the parking lot of the Brookshire Brothers grocery store this afternoon and the old truck faithfully started one more time.   I am a regular customer for the blue plate special the grocery serves daily and stopped today on the way to visit my mom to pick up something for lunch.   A large newer white pickup truck caught my attention as it pulled into the parking space to my left and the driver kept the engine running.    That annoyed me because I wasn’t sure what he planned to do and backing up in parking lots has become an adventure for me since my eyesight is akin to the old cartoon character Mr. Magoo’s.   I was so preoccupied with watching the guy to my left I hadn’t once glanced to my right.   When I did, this is what I saw…

    Only in Texas, I’m sure.

    I had an almost uncontrollable urge to abandon my Dodge Dakota and run flying to the horse, leap in the saddle and gallop wildly out of the parking lot with the wind blowing my hair around me in swirls!   Ah, so many problems with that fantasy, though.   It’s unlikely I could run anywhere these days and certainly not a prayer of leaping into a saddle.  Ouch!   And as for the hair blowing in the wind, Brad Pitt might pull that look off, but my hair hasn’t been long enough to make a swirl since I was in grammar school many moons ago.

    I shoulda been a cowboy.   Instead, I was a CPA.    A stockbroker.   A financial advisor.    A vice president of investments.   A college accounting instructor.   A church minister of music.    But never a cowboy except when I was a little girl growing up in rural East Texas and I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count.   So, today when I saw the riderless horse standing quietly next to me in the parking lot, I was reminded of the cowboy I wasn’t.

    It’s okay, though.   In real life it’s much easier to ride a desk than a horse and allow books and movies and television westerns to feed my fantasies of the cowboy’s romantic nomadic existence.

    Hmmm…and maybe it wasn’t the horses I was interested in anyway.