Just Grassy Memories
By Dan Grider
The saying “you can take the boy from the farm but you can’t take the farm from the boy,” is stamped on many a farmer and their families like a birthmark.
My grandparents own a small cattle ranch in Woody CA. Every Sunday my family would come up from Bakersfield and work on the ranch. This is where I learned how to ride a horse. This where I learned teamwork. This where I learned tact, focus, and the importance of pre-planning.
We did things the old fashioned way. Hurding the cattle on horseback. The distance was about 2 miles with sometimes as many as 60 or more head. Very short distance yes, but left lots of room for miss haps, catastrophes tragedies, adversities and setbacks! Thinking back at those times, it’s hard to capture anything too clearly. But I feel it in my bones still, and I know it helped make me a better man. I remember those cold early mornings saddling the horses and gathering up the tools needed for the day… I remember that distinct “old truck” smell, and the stain of years of cigarette smoke, dirt and sweat… The times spent on horseback going down old dirt trials, gathering up all the cattle and leading them to wherever they needed to go… And that frustration of the one calf that just needed to break free from the hurd!
Now, not every Sunday was just that, every so often we needed to “ride fence”. Those days my Dad, Grandpa and I would…..well ride along the fence lines (which would sometimes be a two day thing). We would look for holes and fix them or fence posts that had either fallen down, been chewed up, or just eaten by rot. These were very exhausting days. But the memory of it hasn’t dissolved.
I also remember my grandma, ,and how she always had a beautiful garden. She grew so much, from sunflowers to chamise; popcorn flowers to morning glory, and such an assortment of roses. Just as Grandpa prided himself in his cattle, Grandma prided herself on her flowers. They all were always kept trimmed up, healthy, and weed free.
Seriously! Can’t remember a time when they got out of hand. Except when they got a dog…..for a time they had a dog named Storm (I can not remember for the life of me what his breed us but he was black and gray)
The reason Storm got that name was, can you guess? Ha! When we first got Storm, it was from. A fellow member’s dog had puppies, and they were giving them away. My grandparents had just lost their other dog, Bonnie, to old age and wanted another pet. So they took one the puppies. Sunday after church, they came back home and this little puppy was in my Grndma’s flowerbed! Mud caked on his paws and belly, big ol’ smile, tongue hangin out, and just SO happy to see us, as he comes running up.
My grandma on the other hand didn’t reciprocate the feeling. My grandpa says “It looks like a STORM came right through your flowerbed!” The name stuck, and our puppy Storm was appropriately sentenced to life on leash for dog obedience training. The flowers couldn’t be saved, and he had broken a pot as well. It wasn’t until dinner that we could laugh about it.
Memories and lessons like these are being created everyday in the world of Ag. Something we may not think about or even see importance in, can be so important. Especially as we take a break to smell the muddy flowers, and for a brief moment we remember what the phrase “taking the boy from the farm” really means. My Life Depends on Ag.
