Click here for audio: Spinning Straw Into Gold
My husband is a Jack of all trades in a sense. He is a rancher, an auctioneer, a musician, hay broker, and trucker.Just to name a few! Last summer he pulled together his ranching knowledge and love for trucking when he found the opportunity to truck several hundred tons of hay and straw and sell to a large feedlot in dire need of feed. That opportunity opened several doors and he soon found himself with more hay hauls than one can count! The reason being…drought. Statewide we didn’t see the greatest hay crop last summer due to low precipitation all winter and spring. Forest fires were popping up left and right. Roundup, a town an hours drive southeast of us suffered terrible flooding two years ago, and then with a flip of a switch suffered horrible fires last summer. This found ranchers all over in a bind and hay prices were through the roof. Luckily my husband got in there and got a good deal on the stuff and found himself pretty busy loading his hay trailer to haul all over the state. He did this well into the fall, even winter, in time for ranchers to stockpile their hay for the snowy season.
Before the grass has even proudly shown its green face, my husband is already revving his hay train engine ready to rock and roll. Knowing that several ranchers don’t have their usual 2 year old hay crop as a cushion this year due to last years drought, I have a sneaking suspicion he will be a busy, hay hauling, son of a bumble bee once again this summer!
All this brings up the memory of last years drought. And reminded me of my first ever jab at “cowboy poetry” which is kind of a big deal around these parts. Our very own town holds an annual cowboy poetry festival every summer. These poets are hard core. I would never dare compete against them. But I like to challenge myself every once and again.
“Drought”
We pardoned at the River Styx
And fought in dire righteousness
For something much more
Tangible than gold
We held our hats and gripped the reins
Our horses restless in their manes
As the fiery serpent flicked
His fork-ed tongue
The dust brought in the scent of drought
The cattle moaning in their doubt
That spring would rescue
All their hungry fears
The warm wind bearing the bouquet
Of slightly musty two-year hay
That just may be the
Answer to a prayer
The serpent bruised the horses’ heels
But crushed its head beneath the wheels
Of God’s redeeming
Chariot of gold
—-
Xoxo- Country Mouse
There is no reason to be trepidatious about being a cowboy poet. You are a cowGIRL poet already. Seriously – love it.
Haeli, you are gifted. We are blessed.