WordPlay

That makes it sound appropriately SF/F-ish, doesn’t it?  Plus romance?  Yes.  I think I like it.

This, as it happens, is a letter to a friend’s daughter.  About a wedding I couldn’t go to, but thought about a whole lot.

Dear Friend’s Daughter:

Do you remember when we met? You were seven. We were at an entirely grown up writers meeting thing so when I saw your little self with whatever project you’d brought along that day, I was silently all wincey inside.

You know. “Ugh, this is not going to be good.”

Ha ha ha!  Was I wrong! Let it not be said that children cannot instruct certain adults with their good behavior.

There was more to come, of course. Like the first time you answered the phone when I called.  The first time you answered the door when I stopped by, because who knew we would turn out to be “cut through the backyards” neighbors?

The moment I realized that when doing these things, you had more poise than I ever have.

Hmph.

Years passed–they have a habit of doing that–and through the process of movie nights, drop-bys, and the best dinners ever, I also had the chance to watch your various explorations of Things to Do with Life.  In these I always saw an admirable combination of passion, thoughtfulness, and thoroughness.

Which, frankly, I never quite understood. I’m not so old that I don’t still remember me at that age, you know.

So for a while, I had the privilege of being on the sidelines of your life. And then I moved a little, and was less so, and then I moved a lot, and…well.

Not so long ago, then, I heard about the Pending Nuptials. And I got absurdly pleased and excited.  And I thought, well, huh!  What’s that all about?  (Because, you know, writers just never let these things go.)

I did figure it out, though. It’s the potential of it all.  It’s because I don’t have to know New Hubby to know how very much you’re doing the right thing for you, and that as you’re faced with the big honkin’ new things that come with marriage, you–and he–will face them with that same admirable combination of thought, passion, and completeness that I saw from that first day: at meeting, with project, teaching the grown-ups a thing or two.

In other words…  SQUEEEEE!  YOU GOT MARRIED!  WAHOOO!

(Have a good time.)

By Patty Wilber

  Just as we (4 of us) were saddled up and ready to go, the cows busted out of the holding pen.  Apparently, they were unsatisfied with the accomodations.  Grass too short? Water too cold?  Too shallow?    

It was unclear, but Penny must have had the same thoughts, because she escaped in the middle of the night, driving the  2 horses near the tack room where I was “sleeping” to stomp around and call to her.  Did I get out of my sleeping bag?  No.  I could tell those 2 were stll in.  My sleep deprived brain didn’t quite make the leap to “something  might be amiss”. Penny woke up David, and Peter kindly brought my wayward filly and his mare  (to keep Penny company) to the trailer at some wee hour.  I didn’t register that either…    

The cows are out! The pen is visible to the right. The eastern gate is beyond the hill in the back of the photo.

But back to the cows.  Since they were out, we might as well get them moving.  Easier said than done.  Mooove? As a group, with a purpose?  Nope.  Meander meander meander.  We had to push them from behind and  from the side. These cows had been moseying around all summer, eating lots of luscious grass, so they were not  into the whole concept of  Forced March. A purposeless herd is kind of like a big blobby ameba, and pieces (cows) kept oozing off.  

 Not only that, but calf 17 was bloated and really couldn’t be expected to walk the 18 miles out.  It  took a bit of time to for David to push her back to the trailers and load her up. We held the herd at the eastern gate until he returned. That sounds dramatic, huh?  But really the cows just ate and we hung around on our horses.    

We got them off the ranch and started downhill.  The cows picked up speed.  David’s horse was still feeling pretty fresh and Penny panicked when the energy levels went up and Alameda (Peter’s horse) disappeared from sight.  Bucking (on a down hill slope with cows streaming by) ensued.  Truthfully, Penny is a lame bronc, so staying on is not an issue.  She recovered quickly, too.   

David (L) and Lee (R). The group is heading downhill.

 The morning was warming up and our Not Into It cows were heating up.  They started going for shade and water whenever possible.  Keeping them on track is doable,  if one is preemptive enough.   

We weren’t.  Thus, we spent a bit of time rousting cows out of dense spruce  thickets (the needles collect in your saddle pads; glad Penny isn’t super tall!), pasting the herd back together (all 45 of ‘em) and coercing forward movement.  Calf 21 should’ve joined 17.  He was not feeling well, and spent the entire day at the back of the pack, where we all took turns making him keep up.   

After the river, we rested the cows (and some people) at several more areas with water.    

Lee really didn't feel great (he barely ate dinner--a sure sign of illness in a teenager), but he hung in and rested when he could.

Mostly it was just Git Along Little Dogies.  Unlike the old westerns, there was zero danger of stampede.  Our bunch was just Hot and Tired.  The horses had to double back and forth at a trot to convince the cattle to move along at a paceabove an amble.  Except when we came to other herds. 

Our path to the pens crossed other ranches, with cows.  So, one rider had to scout ahead to make sure any new cows were well away from our line of travel.  When any strange cattle were anywhere close to path, our cows (and especially the bull!) perked up and wanted to join the new group.

 Penny had no trouble leaving her horsie buds at this point, and riding off the front of the herd to scout the terrain ahead WAS as romantic as it sounds.  

It was open and undulating grassland with a stream down the center of a wide valley.  Aspens (my favorite!) and spruce formed dense stands along the distant edges.  The wind was under my hat (but it stayed on) and on my cheeks; my horse was smooth under me as we loped out.  The best! 

I had to take a  “break”, so we loped up a hillside into some aspens.  There was a ridge of gray rock (perfect cover), and I wondered what it would be like to have to worry about who might be lurking there to swoop down and steal our herd! 

The last stretch was LONG and hot and dusty and down the  road lined by that fence.  Close to the end, three cows and a calf piled on to the fence and Penny and I attempted to peel them off.  A calf put his head through the wire…and his body followed…drat. (That was the second calf I put through…but I wasn’t fired.) It was a pretty decent fence, too, so there was no good spot to push him back over. He followed along.  Sam (Peter’s son) had walked up from the pens and at last, he found a place that could be opened up, and he got the little wanderer back into the herd.   

We watered them one last time in the creek near the corrals (where upon 3 strayed up stream under the fence and 2 went downstream).  Gathered those up penned them all, and fed the horses. Ahhh.   Job well done! 

End of the day and all are penned.

The Cow Boss finishing up with the feeding

 Sunday morning, Penny and I worked in the pens to sort cows (everyone else was on foot). 

The guys loaded the cows  into trailers.  Ernie and his wife Ruth came with an extra trailer, and I took all 4 horses in my 3 horse trailer (just didn’t use the dividers), but even still, all the cows did not fit!  

Calls were made, cows were unloaded.  Three loads (2 of cows and me with the horses) and one smaller empty trailer left.  About 45 mnutes down the road, we met a new trailer.  Muscial Trucks.  Three way switcheroo!  The cows and horses headed south and the empty (bigger) trailer went back to the pens.  

I made it home with Penny about 7 pm  but Peter and David didn’t get the last cow moved down and unloaded until nearly 11.  

Never a dull moment!   

I’d go back in a heart beat!

By Patty Wilber

(Title of the post thanks to David Harris–the original song is I Wanna be a Cowboy by Boys Don’t Cry)

The moon set in the wee hours, leaving it DARK at 4 am.  I groped around the bedroom for some clothes (to avoid waking Jim), and went out to toss some hay at Penny.  I wanted her to have a bit to eat before we hit the road for The Great Cow Caper.

I met the Cow Boss on the road in front of the ex Pete’s, ex Kokopelli’s, ex Gordon’s (you can pick your own favorite ex restarant for that location). I moved Penny into the trailer with Alameda as they were both playing the  “Bang the Trailer” with their hooves.  Penny, being a good egg, had no problem unloading on the dark road and getting into an unlit trailer with someone she doesn’t know well.  (Here little girl, I have some candy for you!)  The two horses leaned into each other.  Ahh. No more pawing!

We had to get up north. FAST, apparently.  Me and my Dodge diesel (with the pyrometer running hotly) managed to keep up.  Don’t even ask our speed, which seemed somewhat manageable until the dirt road.  Hot Tip: barreling down a steep washboarded grade into the thick dust trail of Speed Racer, with an empty trailer=YIKES.  The trailer was jumping all over and that aerosol bottle of Blue Kote wound dressing I had, apparently got wedged under a bottle of show sheen or fly spray, and I have a lot of stuff ‘koted” in blue now…

Survived! Parked the two trailers at the empty cow pens.  The Plan:  ride Penny and Alameda in, meet the rest of the crew on the ranch, get the cows penned today (Friday), use 4 riders to trail them out Saturday.  Load up and head out on Sunday.

Got tacked up with the usual array of stuff needed or possibly needed for an 18 mile ride, tied to the saddles!

Alameda and Peter, aka Cow Boss

The country is a lot drier than it was in mid July.  Instead of intense greens, it is  dun and tan at ground level,  with swatches of green and blue at the water.  There are bursts of high gold (the aspens are turning) and low yellow on the rabbit brush and snake weed.

You know I love to ride a good horse (or a bad one, or really any horse at all).  Adding in a long ride with a purpose, clear and comfortable weather, expansive scenery, and easy (um make that quiet-”I don’t talk much”) company, a day can’t really get much better.

A large aspen grove. This one was not yet turning, but it was beautiful!

On the lower stretch, barb wire fences line the dirt road–or dirt track because in some places the road is more like a rutted trail–glad I am not driving here. We checked for holes and irregularities along the fence because when the cows are on the mooove (he he), they may jam up on the fence line and then push through. This actually happens pretty easily.

Back when I was 18, I worked at a summer camp (K-Arrow Ranch in the  foothills the Sierra Nevada of California, near Jamestown) that was a working ranch the rest of the year.  We took 35 kids out to herd 15 cows back to the ranch/camp headquarters. One kid got kicked and he actually broke his leg, so the ranch manager put me in charge.

He did this because I could ride and because I had a very western wardrobe that included brown check Lee jeans (the styles were so attractive back then), so he thought I might know what I was doing.  NOT a CLUE.

I had enough kids to surround the cows, so moving the herd was not a problem, but there was a place along the last stretch where the fence indented due to a driveway entrance. The cows all piled in and went right through the fence.  After that I knew to put a kid there to block the cows. So, 31 years later, I do understand what we are looking for in fence shape, and why!

Both horses were quiet and went along real nice, so we had a plenty of time to sightsee!

A pair of golden eagles soared out of a tree near by and landed in two tall ponderosas ahead of us.

A herd of 10 pronghorn were resting on a hilllside and they got up and loped along the contour and then over the ridge.  All were bucks.

A cow elk trotted with her big dressage steps across a meadow and disappeared in the trees.

When we made it to the ranch, we dropped into a volcanic bowl (the ampitheater) that has big steps edging 300 hundred feet down to the river. There are seeps that pool up on the flats and each slope is studded with spruce and aspen.

We pushed some neighbor’s cows out of that area and heard a bull elk bugling! (I had never heard that before!)  We saw a smaller satellite bull and two cow elk traversed the steep northern side of the bowl and left.  We were hoping the bigger bull would follow them, but he did not.

We climbed out of the ampitheater and checked the salt licks  Not much cow sign there.  Alameda was a little sore footed, so we walked for a bit–kinda hot in chaps.  Still no cows. Peter headed on foot (with his horse) for the bunk house, and I made a loop out to see what I  could see. Still no cows, but the western edge of the ranch has wide meadows that make me take in a big breath and let it out slowly, so the scene can settle in me somewhere!

As I approached the bunk house, there were the cows, of course.  All of them! Peter was penning them and David (Peter’s brother) was driving in the last straggler.

David driving the last calf in --oops put him through the fence.

The cows overnighted in the big pen and in the morning, they escaped, just as we were ready to get them on the trail…

Next week:  Driving the Dogies or I Wanna be a Cowwwgirl, Part II!

Patty Wilber  

Summer is winding down.  Sunflowers (Genus Helianthus) decorate the roadsides and snake week (Genus Guitierrezia) is blooming in the fields.  I have a little stand of sunflowers by the hay barn where the horses are usually Not Allowed.  They eat the flowers.  

Sunflowers with the Sandia Mountains in the background.

Snakeweed. Note the MOSS in the background. That's how wet it's been.

This spring was emerald green with the non-native annual grasses (foxtail and cheat grass).  Then, there was little rain and the whole place dried to a brown crisp.  Along came the monsoons (which typically run July 4 to early September) and the perennial grasses, summer wildlfowers and the invasive weeds are all going beserk.   

Kochia (from Russia;  introduced as a hardy drought  and cold resistant forage plant that no one really loves to eat–someone forgot to test the palatablity factor, I guess) is out of control!  Just add water!  

Mouse up to her ears in Kochia!

Cometa and Zeke. Green green.

 This week has been a fun one in the horse training business.  

I drove a carriage!  

Anni is a Fjord and she was a tough nut for me to crack.  I swear, she hated me for the first 3 months I worked with her.  Ear pinning when I arrived.  Sulling up (refusal to try) when ever I asked her for anything new.   

My typical horsey client can be convinced to try a little something with a kind word and a well timed cue.  Not Anni. Asking got me nowhere. Up the pressure? She shut down completely. I contacted Beth Beymer at Starfire Farm for Fjord training tips.   

To teach Anni to canter, Beth suggested cueing in the same spot of the arena each time and rewarding a faster trot.  Really?  A faster trot, was not, to my mind a “try”.  But ok.  Will do.  

In addition, because Anni did canter in the round pen and on a lunge line without a rider, I had Sue (Anni’s mom) cue Anni for the canter while I rode as a passenger in the round pen.  

These two things worked and eventually,  Anni began to look forward to seeing me!  She fretted when I worked Paul (Sue’s other Fjord) first.  She began to try to out perform him each ride.  What a change.  Still gives me goosebumps!  

I do the riding training and Sue does the driving training.  This week I drove (!) and we compared cues. For turns, I use steady rein pressure, wait for a response, then release.  I sometimes ride without reins and use a whip to cue turns, stopping and backing.   Anni carries her head a bit low, but I am asking for more elevation when riding.  All of these are directly applicable to driving!   

For more tips on carriage driving (as opposed to wagons or log pulling), a good resource is Cuffy and Winkel. 2003.  The Essential Guide to Carriage Driving.  

Excitement #2:  Zeke:a 6 year old Arabian with a young brain.  He is gorgeous!  He is uptight!  He is here for a little tune up: softer, more flexible response to the bit and canter nicely in the arena.   

I couldn't get him to stand far enough away from me to get a good full body shot. He does like sunflowers though!

 When a horse is soft in my hands and soft to my legs, it is like merging into the animal; becoming one (cue music and dramatic lighting).   

In our six rides, Zeke has shown he wants to be there!  Unfortunately, he also has a lot on his mind (That tarp moved!  The gravel hit that barrel!  You repositioned the bridge!).  This tends to get in the way.  

Allowing his confidence to build and rewarding his efforts so the soft can emerge is the goal.  I have felt brilliant flashes, AND he is letting me set him up for and picking up the canter. Whoo whee! Almost better than sex.  Almost.  

Excitement #3:  The girls and I went to the Manzanos, a nearby mountain range.  I wasn’t planning to go, but the Back Country Horsemen project was short a pack animal and needed Risa.   

BCH'ers Paul, Madelyn, Richard and Chuck working on a log that was blocking the trail (using the 2-man saw Risa packed in).

 It was WET.  At Red Canyon, the creek was running full (first time I have seen that in August since…forever.)  The trail is steep and has lost 6-8 inches of base in some areas due to the intense rainfall this summer.  Roots and rocks are exposed everywhere.  

In addition, the path crosses back and forth then forth and back across the water.  Penny forded everything.  Sometimes I heard her sigh in dismay (REALLY? Again?), but her attitude was graceful, even when Risa’s was not. (Balked and then rammed Penny with a pannier full of tools, but only 2 or 3 times.)  

Miss Attitude, SLEPT while we packed her! She did need to be pushed a bit over some of the water on the way up  (Terri rode Olympia up to Risa’s heiny and clucked at her).  On the way down, Risa crossed everything smoothly!   

The waterfall was stunning (but my camera ran out of batteries, so no pics).  It wasn’t too hot, but it was humid. It didn’t rain until I got in the truck to come home.  

Next week the fall term begins at the college and I will be back in the classroom part of each day, but this week….well, I love horse training!

Patty Wilber  

The metal sign is painted white and “Brazos Box Ranch” had been cut out.  

Between Tabooli’s ears, a meadow reaches out in front of me. Green aspen and blue spruce mingle on the slope to the east. Black angus-cross mama cows and their calves graze near the bunkhouse.  The two red mares, Squirt the yellow filly, and the old gelding have perked up.  

The bunk house and cows, as seen from the gate.

The mares call to T. and ol’ loud mouth yaks back while I work the gate. Would have be easier if he was focusing on the gate WITH me.  

It has been 16 miles of hard up hill and jog-trotting to get here and reality has surpassed my imagination. When does THAT happen?  

The ranch is at 9,000+ feet and access is difficult due to the steep grade of the dirt road. A 4-wheel drive is needed to pull a trailer in, and I don’t have one.  

Plan A was: I’d  drive to Buckman Road, leave my truck at a  friend’s, and have my trailer hauled in. We got the trailer hitched and parked my truck. But, the old blue ranch truck fell ill, overheated, barfed up radiator fluid and could not  manage the trailer.  

Plan B. Leave my truck and trailer. Peter (T’s dad and my host) will drive Ol’ Blue, and I’ll ride Tabooli in. A little daunting, but… hey! It is a nice afternoon. I have my high fashion rain gear with (I was just in the Pecos, you know!) and I am not one to turn down an opportunity to ride in the mountains.  

Ol’ Blue cooled off.  We wiped his brow, and dabbed his radiator fluid stained chin.  Blue roared (muffler is off) then putted up the road and out of sight (and earshot, thank goodness).   I mosied along .  When I caught up, Blue had gone from sick to…dead.  

Plan C. I’ll keep riding. Peter will walk, once again, back to my truck, call a tow truck for Blue and drive my Dodge.  

If this had been my real life, right after Plan A went down, my stress levels would have skyrocketed and flames would have begun shooting out of my nose. Many hours would have been ruined. BUT! In this awesomely alternate universe, I was completely unfazed. Not my truck! Not my problem! I’ve got the horse!  It is all good!  

 T. and I climbed out of the ponderosa and scrub oak, into the apsen and spruce. Aspen are sensuous trees. Long white trunks crowned by rounded emerald leaves that dance in the breeze. Sunlight dapples through onto the grasses beneath. The perfect spot to …  

Too bad I don’t write romance novels.  

After riding about 8 miles I heard the thrum as my diesel approached. Would I like to drive? Hmmm.  It’s not my horse…But I AM the trainer. Nope. Happy riding! THIS is the life.  

Next morning after coffee (that I didn’t have to make) at sunrise on the porch  (yep, this IS the life), we loaded up my truck with fencing materials. The fence to be mended is a 3-wire  “lay down” or “let down” fence. It will have T-posts every 16 feet with 3  foot aspen or spruce “stays” that attach to the barb-wire and then are wired to the T-posts. In between the T-posts are more stays.  At the end of the cattle season, the stays at the T-posts are unhooked, and the fence is laid down. This keeps the snow and the elk from trashing the fence. In the spring, the fence can be set back up.  

I carried stays, and helped true the H-brace, but I just didn’t feel all that great. The altitude? Doubtful. I live at 6800 and was up this high just last weekend…  

I felt worse after lunch, so took a short rest…felt a little better. Had the chance to tour the ranch via horseback and I wasn’t going to miss that, even if the chips and guacamole left my gut and  ended up all over my horse.  

Tabooli has about 40 saddles (rides).  Peter rode him and T.  settled down quickly.  He didn’t balk at water or mud. When 35 elk streamed down the slopes of an ancient volcanic crater  into a marsh, he was interested but not afraid. When a buck in velvet and 2 does ran parallel to us through the dark spruce and pale aspen (it was like being IN a wildlife movie), he just looked. He pushed (moved) cows and was relaxed.  He listened.  He tried.  He looked happy. He was a little clod-footed in spots and he used his voice WAY too much when we came up the valley toward the mares, but I was really happy with him. All that in scenery to die for. Perfect.  

Sat down for dinner (grilled elk steak!) and I started to feel crappy again. Lo and behold, the pilot light was not lit in the oven. Lit that. Felt lots better, fast.  

It rained and a double rainbow appeared. Saw a bear across the meadow. The mares and Squirt were lit up in the post-rain light.  How much longer can I stay, again? Until the first snowfall?  

Had to ride out the next day–having a job and all. I ponied the old gelding down (since Peter had to drive my truck out and then ride back in). It was Tabooli’s first go at ponying. He did it like it was old hat. The ride took over 3 hours. Good thing, because if I had come down fast, I might have hit reality too hard and broken into pieces.  

…Monday

What fun to start the week with babbling good news. I think next week I’ll MAKE UP some good new so I can do it again!

This week, though, I don’t have to. I’m delighted to announce that I’ll be writing three more Nocturnes, and two of the online Nocturne Bites along the way.

The Nocturnes are the ones I’ve gotten the most requests for so far…remember Maks, the straightforward bodyguard who’s played a role in all three of the Sentinels books so far? Maks takes the tiger as his other form; he’s a quiet guy with an unusual background. Not quite tame, for all his reliability–and with reason. The first Sentinels book is Tiger Bound, and that’s where I get to play with Maks’ story. Oh, gleeful, evil, rubbing of hands together!

Ruger is the character who first started getting the requests–right from the start. Was I ever going to write a book for him? Well, in fact…yes! Ruger is the healer who also spends time as a Kodiak bear, and who (in Lion Heart), took the brunt of an Atrum Core ambush. In the wake of that, he’s still looking for himself. Could be he just needs a little help, hmm?

But before I dive into those two books, I’ll be writing a second Demon Blade book. You haven’t seen that first one yet–it’s been waiting for scheduling, and to some extent waiting for this cycle of decisions to come around, to see if we’d be working it as a series or as a one-off. Well, guess what! I get to do a series!

And then there’s a Demon Blade Bite and a Sentinels Bite.

And there’s ME.

VERY HAPPY!

Getting to write books I love, knowing my schedule is planned for these next months, hummm hummm humm! The muse wins!

BLOG PARTEEEE!

The Friday Post

Ahhh, Camelot.

(If that means nothing to you, hasten ye to rent the Camelot DVD. Richard Harris, Vanessa Redgrave, Franco Nero…just do it.)

This previous week, the weather wrought much difficulty. The mud, in which my car has been stuck not once, but twice–in our own freshly graveled driveway.

The wind, which took down our beloved ArroyoNet–and which, though we patched it as best we could (including several sojourns to the roof antenna), has never been the same. No more phone, and basic email and browsing are not to be taken for granted.

(Comcast continues to be a FAIL. A persistent one.)

The ice, which freezes the yard gate closed on a daily basis no matter how many times I chip it free–there’s trenching to be done, but not until the ground thaws.

The cold, which froze someone else’s water line in our tiny community well system and took out our water, killing the fridge icemaker and the water filter.

And then, of course, the settling of disturbed ground, which created Duncan’s sink hole and sent him on his rough tumble.

So yeah…that’s been the weather, these weeks after we moved in.

But one morning last week?

Ahh… Camelot.

For one bright shining moment…