A cute wee pullet
Became a hen today.
If I knew which one,
I’d throw a par-tay.
You see, I found a small egg
Among all the rest,
Snuggled in the hay
Of their favorite nest.
This is always a sign
That the young are of age.
I must confess,
It’s an exciting stage.
I asked around,
For to know would be swell,
But not one bird
Was about to tell.
Is the bird mafia
Keeping things tickin’?
No name would they give
Because each one was a chicken!
Written: December 1, 2003
That cute wee sheep,
Living in the barn,
When dealt with right
Provides good yarn.
Upon its back
The fleece does grow,
Resembling not
The white of snow.
The sheep is sheared,
It’s fleece the yield,
Then wee sheep
Returns to the field.
The fleece is sorted,
The dung picked out,
Then it’s washed
And laid about.
When all is dry
It’s sorted again,
Then combed & carded.
This is not the end.
Through the fingers
The fibres run,
By the wheel
The yarn is spun.
Watch the tension
Count the twist
When you spin
Relax that fist.
Peddle goes up,
Peddle goes down,
Making the wheel
Go round and round.
Shuttles fly,
Bobbins turn,
Spinning is great
With much to learn.
Spin two bobbins,
Maybe three,
Then ply them together,
The results to see.
Now you’re finished
Yet, not time to snooze
With piles of yarn
For you to use.
Rolling hills around me
Blue skies above
I’m in a place
I do truly love.
My horse beneath me
As birds fly by,
Majestic trees…
Flowers catch my eye.
Cows on the hills
All around.
Abundant life
Springs from the ground.
An eagle screams,
Sun reflects off water.
I hear the laugh
Of my nephew’s daughter.
The beauty of Creation
Is unsurpassed,
God’s Peace and Love
I feel at last.
The joy of animals,
Of loved ones near,
Defines my life,
And makes things clear.
In the distance far,
Are mountains high,
And yet up close
A butterfly.
Peace for a lifetime
I take into my heart,
As we turn a corner
And home we start.
They warned me it was an illness,
But they told me a little too late.
They said there’s no going backwards…
But I’d already passed through the gate.
The first time I saw
I’d already lost the good fight.
My introduction to these show rabbits,
Was true love upon first sight.
I rushed out and bought up a trio,
One buck and two sweet little does,
Each one had two tiny ears, bold eyes,
Short hair, and a twitchy wee nose.
We’ll, I’d heard how rabbits do multiply,
But then, how was I to know?
With all these critters in my life,
The speed that my love would grow.
Forty pound bags of feed & of grain
I throw over my shoulder and pack.
Bales of hay, for my rabbits, too.
Of the expense I don’t keep track.
In winter months, of freezing cold,
When water dishes become solid ice,
I pack hot water out to the rabbits…
Not once every day, but twice.
Now, summer months in the Okanagan
When the temperatures get real high,
Big blocks of ice go in each separate cage,
‘Cuz I wouldn’t want my bunnies to fry.
Training Netherland Dwarfs to pose right,
Grooming Fuzzy Lops most every day,
Scrubbing cages with bleach in the water,
And carrying all the droppings away.
Do I have somewhere else for my money?
Could I do something else with my time?
“Of course,” I say, “but I wouldn’t!”
‘Cuz these bunnies make my everyday shine.
At times when I’m all sad and lonely,
And feeling my life’s in a crunch,
What gives me something to live for
Is feeding rabbits, & hearing them “munch”.
Such joy is checking each nest box,
And counting the babies inside,
Making sure, each day, they’ve been fed well.
At ten days, seeing eyes opened wide.
Seeing each little creature as beautiful.
Knowing each one is God’s gift to me.
Is one my next Grand Champion?
And, if so, which one will it be?
Which babies will go on the show table?
And which will stay as brood stock?
Which will becomes someone’s much loved pet?
Give it time, and stop watching the clock!
Striving to raise “perfect” rabbits,
To come closer to the standard that’s set,
Can be an unending challenge
Country music is blaring,
Horses are raring,
Jumping around in the chutes.
Cowboys are prime
Awaiting their time,
Amidst the clapping and hoots.
There’s spurs a diggin’,
Bareback riggin’,
Clouds of dust all around.
Hear the crowd yell
As they wait for the bell,
That incredible 8 second sound.
A flying rope
Filled with hope
Reaches out for the calf.
This cowboy’s fast!
So he won’t be last,
He gambles on wrap and a half.
Barely a cloud in the sky,
The excitement is high,
Let’s get on with the show.
Enough of the break
For goodness sake,
It’s time to RODEO!
A pretty white horse,
Saddle bronk of course,
Dumps Cowboy in the dirt.
With a buck and a snort,
His time was short,
It’s amazing he didn’t get hurt.
Bulldogging fun
In the afternoon sun
Brings screams & shouts from the crowd.
Three seconds and nine
Is the winning time,
Bet that cowboy is proud.
Kids conquer their fears
On bucking steers,
Future bull riders all.
Knocking dust off their chaps,
As the audience claps.
Did he jump off, or did he fall?
8 seconds of hell,
A cowboy will tell,
Is spent on the back of a bull.
He hits the dirt runnin’,
And I’m not just funning’,
Or of hooves & horns he’ll be full.
Protecting the cowboy,
And bringing the crowd joy,
Of course is the rodeo clown.
Distracting the bovine,
He walks on a thin line,
And entertains all in the town.
Any bull fighter
Could get a mite lighter,
If he runs a little too slow.
They have to be fast,
Or life will not last,
They’re great athletes, don’t you know.
You can not forgo,
At any rodeo,
Pick-up riders extraordinaire.
Snatching cowboys from harm
Is their greatest charm.
A talent, I tell you, that’s rare.
As the day ends
I find all my friends
Listening to music & swigging beer.
Dreaming of Wranglers real tight,
I’ll go home tonight.
You can bet I’ll be back next year!
The first time I saw him
I fell in love.
I had to have him
Sure as heaven above.
To run my hands over
His well muscled bod,
My fingers through his hair,
I’d surely thank God.
He stood strong and proud,
His head held up high
With a devilish twinkle
In each big brown eye.
As we’ve gotten acquainted
That love it did grow,
And he’s taken me everywhere
I’ve asked him to go.
He’s done things for me
He’d done for no one,
And together we always
Have barrels of fun.
Late one afternoon
He ran away with my heart,
My head, my body,
Yes… every last part.
We get along well
And if we disagree,
He soon comes ‘round
To agreeing with me.
We’re not always alone
That’s a good sign,
We do get together
With his friends and mine.
He’s not like others
I’ve known before,
He’s unique
That’s for shore.
Does the guy in your life
Bring flowers to you?
Mine takes me to flowers,
And an incredible view.
Helping with yard work
Is not problem to do,
He cuts the grass
And fertilizes, too.
He dresses in leather
And wears his hair long,
He country dances
To the pond frogs song.
Yet, he’s not that different
Than you or I’m,
His shoes still go on
One foot at a time.
Whenever we’re together,
Be it night of day,
He likes to get down
For a roll in the hay.
I’d think him a stud
If I didn’t know better,
His blood’s always hot
No matter the weather.
When I want to ride him
I whisper in his ear,
Then I mount up upon him
Our excitement is clear!
We’re not into whips
Though spurs are fair game,
I ride him real hard
And he never goes lame.
“Faster” Go Faster!”
I call out to him,
Then
Blow past us again.
Now, breathing real hard
And dripping with sweat,
I quickly thank God
For that day we met.
Have you figured it out?
My secret, of course!
This wonderful guy
Born in a sod hut
On the prairie flat,
Part of his parents’ new life,
Was a young fellow
Named Jesse James,
Never gave his Mama no strife.
One of his jobs
As a young boy
Was to make pesky gophers dead,
So he fashioned a scoop
With it’s handle long,
And poison from horseback he fed.
He lived through winter
Storms so bad
You would’ve lost your way,
If not for a rope,
From barn to house,
Strung on a better day.
Kids held on tight
To a lariat rope
Behind Jesse’s horse at a run.
“Flat land skiing”
On a winter’s day
Was the ultimate way to have fun.
As luck would have it,
The day did come…
Jesse turned a little too short.
A big gate post
And a girl’s broken arm
Put an end to this “Olympic Sport”.
As a young man
In “depression” times,
Jesse found a way to live.
To full grown horses
Who’d never seen man,
“Riding lessons” Jesse did give.They’d rope ‘em
And hog tie ‘em
Strap on the appropriate saddle.
Rip off the ropes…
The horse was up,
With Jesse already astraddle.
As years went by
Jesse headed west,
Left the “bald-headed prairie” behind.
He crossed over mountains,
Then headed north,
His future adventures to find.
In a small café,
In a northern town,
Jesse found his future wife.
She was his waitress,
Who became his friend,
Then Annie became Jesse’s life.
In later years
A girl of eight
Saw Jesse ride a rearing horse.
From that moment on
He was her hero.
She knew not of his past, of course.
He told her stories
About teams of horses,
Matched in looks, size and strength,
Of harnesses fancy
Decorated with red tufts,
He entertained her at great length.
In his elder years,
Jesse was heard to say,
The best job he and Annie had done
Was, as expert gardeners,
They’d raised five Blooming Idiots,
Of which I am proud to be one!
In loving memory of my Dad:
Jesse James Price
August 16, 1915 – January 18, 1999
“This could be a blessing in disguise”
I told myself one day
“Well, thank you, Mom”
I then just had to say,
For she had often spoken to me
In just this very way.
Life does have its challenges,
This we all must know,
Yet Mumsy’s words of wisdom
Have helped my life to grow,
And through my very existence
Allow the Spirit of God to flow.
When I hit a big brick wall
And my life went all to…. Well,
Mom has always been there for me
Listening to problems I had to tell,
Lifting me up and dusting me off
Each time on my knees I fell.
“I don’t think I can make it”
I don’t know the way!”
“Oh, you’ll make it,
Because you’re a Price,” she’d say.
I ask myself, “Without Mom,
Where would I be today?”
I am so very grateful
I’m telling you… oh brother,
I have looked around at many
And simply want no other.
I know that I am truly blessed
Having Annie as my mother.
Written: June 28, 2003
