I am fortunate enough to have recently purchased part of our family property down in Zavala County. It is a modest portion of the remnants of a modest estate. I thought it was the biggest place in the world as a kid. Then later I realized the place next to it is twice its size. And the one next to that is another five to six times that size. It's now half of what I knew it as a kid. But we still call it "The Ranch". This property and the goings on there have shaped my life from childhood through today. I find myself in my current situation through equal parts chance, generosity, fortune, misfortune, joy, heartache, stubbornness, and work. But isn't that how all things worthwhile come to be?
At the ranch I learned about patience. About family. Peace and discord. I learned about being a boy, and then a man. There I learned to drive, drink and to cuss. I learned to shoot. I learned about clean kills. And some not-so-clean. I learned about drought and discomfort. I take for granted the stars so easily seen down there. Shooting stars through every night.
The Ranch is not all that special. There are thousands of places like it. Nicer than it, frankly. But it is special to me, and I hope it will be to my kids.
This year's tasks boil down to building fence, clearing some brush, and preparing for the future. And repairing and replacing deer blinds thanks to a recent windstorm. All things completely common, and many of you have done much more of this than I ever will. It's work, it's fun. So, I took advantage of the long weekend to work on some clearing. First an area for our new camp site, then clearing around the blinds. No bosses, no outside direction.
As I drove across the property I spied a couple of bobwhite quail running down the road. I shut the skid steer off to just rest and watch them in the quiet. They scurry off into the brush, not trusting the yellow iron monster. But then a road runner comes out from a mesquite bush to check me out. I sit quietly and he fearlessly hops right on up to check me out from an arm's length away. This weekend's work was worth this little encounter on its own.
Thanks for putting up with tonight's random musings.
-Jake
I traded rattlers and scorpions for roaches.
And wide open spaces for this job that pays good.
Now as I sit here in traffic in stressville,
I wonder if I'm being paid what I should.
(Max Stalling- Bass Run)
At the ranch I learned about patience. About family. Peace and discord. I learned about being a boy, and then a man. There I learned to drive, drink and to cuss. I learned to shoot. I learned about clean kills. And some not-so-clean. I learned about drought and discomfort. I take for granted the stars so easily seen down there. Shooting stars through every night.
The Ranch is not all that special. There are thousands of places like it. Nicer than it, frankly. But it is special to me, and I hope it will be to my kids.
This year's tasks boil down to building fence, clearing some brush, and preparing for the future. And repairing and replacing deer blinds thanks to a recent windstorm. All things completely common, and many of you have done much more of this than I ever will. It's work, it's fun. So, I took advantage of the long weekend to work on some clearing. First an area for our new camp site, then clearing around the blinds. No bosses, no outside direction.
As I drove across the property I spied a couple of bobwhite quail running down the road. I shut the skid steer off to just rest and watch them in the quiet. They scurry off into the brush, not trusting the yellow iron monster. But then a road runner comes out from a mesquite bush to check me out. I sit quietly and he fearlessly hops right on up to check me out from an arm's length away. This weekend's work was worth this little encounter on its own.
Thanks for putting up with tonight's random musings.
-Jake
I traded rattlers and scorpions for roaches.
And wide open spaces for this job that pays good.
Now as I sit here in traffic in stressville,
I wonder if I'm being paid what I should.
(Max Stalling- Bass Run)
