Breathe Deep And Full And Fall Into Your Dreams. . .

Breathe deep and full and let the beautiful things sweep you.
Let the little colt's nicker echo in your ear and let the Christmas lights gleam in your eyes.
Smell hot coffee in the pot and let a shining fresh coat of red nail polish sparkle on your nails.
Let your cheeks glow rosy red and silver rings glimmer on your fingers.
Feel the rush of warm air on your face when you step in from the blowing cold.
Smile big and shamelessly and pull out your favorite wild rag.
Pull your hats down low and flip your collars up to shelter your neck.
Put ornaments on the Christmas tree and don't whine when the pine needles poke you.
Squeeze your hand up beneath your saddle pad and let the heat of your horse thaw it out again.
Listen to horses whinny and snort and let it be the music that it truly is and burrow deep into a denim quilt.
Fall deep into your dreams and let them wisp you away to a land of horses and colts and green grass and ropes. . .

Luvs!
~Gussie Lou

Since The Morning Light

Since The Morning Light

She stands out in the corral, her pretty face silhouetted against the rising sun, hanging her head over the gate as if she's watching over me. 
A little girl with bouncing curls once dangled and hung from the mare's long and tangled mane. 
She nickers me 'good morning'.
Her soft, dark eyes watch and see and take notice to everything and her pent up wisdom of cattle is lingering just behind them. 
She packs a silver moon bit and the little girl assumes she hung it and the stars. 
When branding season rolled around, she drug the soggy calves with ease and stood off in the corner peacefully.
Upon her back, Ol' Glory whipped and flew and she sent chills sneaking down your spine.
She nickers a sweet 'good night'... and I thank God all horses go to heaven, cause she's been buckin and runnin like a colt again, since the morning light. 

For anyone who has ever lost a good ol' horse and everyone who will.
In honor of a great friend, a good horse and a sweet little girl.

Luvs,
- Gussie

B is for: Boots, Braids and Big Loops Blog!!!

A is for: Adrian Buckaroogirl, All The Pretty Horses and Armitas

B is for: Buckaroos, Bits, Bridles, Boots, Books, Braids, Buckaroo Barbie's and Buckin Horses

C is for: Conchos, Chaps, Curls and Cute, Crazy Calves 

D is for: Dave Stamey, Dallies and Dust

E is for: Evanston (closest big town to our FAVORITE place!) and green Eyes

F is for: Fires and Fun (Which by the way, go hand in hand) and Fancy Loops, oh yeah and Flowers

G is for: Gray Horses <3

H is for: Hats and Hotels and Hackamores

I is for: Irons - hot branding irons

J is for: Jingling Spurs and Jesus

K is for: Kicka$$ and Kisses

L is for: Love, Lipstick, Leather and Lonesome Dove

M is for: Mule Hide, Moccasins and Mirrors

N is for: Nylon Ropes and Nevada

O is for: Open Spaces

P is for: Palominos and Pearls!

Q is for: Quarter Horses

R is for: Riatas, Red, Ranches, Ropes and Rotten SOB's

S is for: Santa Barbara Bits, Spurs, Silver, Spook, Spade, Saddles, Sissies and Smiles

T is for: Talking...lots... Tall Tales and Trailers

U is for: Understanding and Unbroke caballos

V is for: Big, Pretty Valleys and old time Vaqueros

W if for: Will James, Wyoming, Wild Rags and White pearl snapped shirts

X is for: "Xquisite" and "Xcellent!"

Y is for: Yellow Sunflowers and the poor Yuppies 

Z is for: Zebra Striped Duns

The Buckaroo Alphabet... Or at least the one Krick and I made up :) and some minor help from little Zane. 

Goodnight!! 

Luvs, 

Gussie and Kricket (-yes KRICKET!!!!)

Ooh Ooh and P.S. Funny Quote:

"You have to slay a few dragons to find the prince."

      ~A seemingly wise teenage buckaroo boy.

Up In The Flat Top Country

Up In The Flat Top Country

The night sets over the mountain land.

The grass sways slowly and the stars smile over the hobbled horses.
The breeze shivers, I stand rocking from the ball of my feet to my heels holding a warm coffee cup with icy fingers.
The spring down off the hill bubbles from the ground, I can hear it over the horses cropping up near the rim of the Pines.
The meadow, mellow gold in the dim light waves back and forth then breaks into a clump of Aspens.
It's quiet up on the flats, the night creatures make distant chatter, the fire crackles in camp, the coffee percolates.
I close my eyes and lay my head back in the meadow flowers and grass, my mind pictures pack horses trailing single file up the mountainside, braids unraveling in the wind, sun making skin glow golden in the high flat top meadows.
The sun rises over the peak, the fire still the first light, heating the morning. 
Standing cold, bundled in the dim fire light, I wander down to the high-line, unhobble the horses. 
Set atop a fading gray, bareback, leading pally and sorrel behind down on to the spring and let 'em water. 
Leaned forward, legs wrapped around, merely an extension of the gray, I ride back to camp and hobble the caballos out for the morning and stand leaning against a stripped pine, I watch 'em graze and sip hot coffee.
Hail like rock salt spits from the clouds in a mid morning shower then the sun runs it off the mountain top.
The day passes quiet, I watch the horses, their curiosity leads 'em past the pines and almost out of sight. 
I climb on one, lead 'em back and hobble 'em out again.
The chipmunks chatter, a pointer pup hangs around camp and bums chunks of grouse meat off me. 
Will James tells me about ol' Smokey and my pen etches my own story on wrinkled paper. 
A grouse hen clucks to her chicks, the ponies nicker when they look up to see me, Sage trots at my feet, her pretty masked face lookin up at me and my heart smiles in the flat top country and I could live here forever. 

I wrote this about a place in Colorado. Beautiful. Once you get on top it's just big parks and pretty meadows. I went up with dad a couple years ago for 5 days and stayed in camp watching the horses while he was hunting grouse. Hobbling horses, taking naps, riding anywhere and everywhere with only halters and barebacked caballos. Nothing like it.

A bad picture, taken off a phone. But I don't care how bad of quality it is, I am very thankful I took this picture because, little Sage was a great dog and we all miss her very much!

Where is your dream country? 

Hugs! 

Gussie!!

Caballos Descarados y Vacas Salvajes --- Sassy Horses and Wild Cattle

The ground breathes an aching sigh from its frozen, icy heart and spring awaits.
The sun will come around and greet the new lives with warmth and beauty .
The foals will buck and snort and breathe the cool spring air and the calves will bawl and blow snot when something moves just wrong.
Their bodies, thick, stout and strong from their mammy's milk.
The clouds will float airy and bright and rain showers shoot the grass vibrant green out of the ground.
Branding season eagerly awaited by cowboys and cowboygirls.
Their ropes will be greased and ready, their cowponies fresh and sassy and the world smiles.
Everything new and pristine and full of life.
A warm fire in the brisk air, branding irons steam and the horses get excited and the cowboys' hearts jump.
The calves come bucking into the trap and the young horses watch intently their first branding.
Their eyes big and bright and their nostrils flare as they suck in the smell of burning hair.
Fancy shots and cowboys scoop up heels.
Big bridle horses lean into the pull and they handle the husky, wild calves with precision, care and habit and they are the awe of the branding.
The little ponies try their hand first with the dopy, small calves and their minds reel.
Hackamores, engraved bridle bits and hand braided reins hang over saddle horns and horses graze hobbled in a little meadow...
But, the ground is frozen hard, won't thaw for a couple months.
So close your eyes and let yourself float back to a dream about springtime..the beauty it promises.

For all of you that are dreading winter, spring WILL come around :)
... and for those of you who don't, when the dark skies get you feeling a little down, dream. Dream about fat, sassy caballos and wild vacas ;)



xoxo ~ Gussie Lou

P.S. - Sorry for small bits and pieces of spanish! It just keeps happening! Haha Kricket is about to whack me!

P.P.S. - Dream BIG. Always ;)

"...the horses out along the high mesas..."

"That night he dreamt of horses in a field on a high plain where the spring rains had brought up the grass and the wildflowers out of the ground and the flowers ran blue and yellow far as the eye could see and in the dream he was among the horses running and in the dream he himself could run with the horses and they coursed with the young mares and fillies over the plain where their rich bay and their rich chestnut colors shone in the sun and the young colts ran with their dams and trampled down the flowers in a haze pollen that hung in the sun like powdered gold and they ran he and the horses out along the high mesas where the ground resounded under their running hooves and they flowed and changed and ran and their manes and tails blew off them like spume and there was nothing else at all in that high world and they moved all of them in a resonance that was like a music among them and they were none of them afraid horse nor colt nor mare and they ran in that resonance which is the world itself and which cannot be spoken but only praised."
  -- All The Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy

Me an' Ol' Smokey My Friend

He was born at "The Sixes" on the west Texas plains, 
A son of Gray Badger and a hard one to tame.
A heart full of willing and a mind full of try.
It's the look of the eagle you see in his eye.

And we'd ride across prairies where nobody's been,
Sleep under the sky where the eagle is king.
And we'd bunch up the dogies that nobody's seen.
Just me and ol' Smokey my friend.

Early each mornin' I'd line out my tack,
Smooth out the hump in old Smokey's back.
We'd bunch up them dogies from dawn until dusk.
Just God an' the prairie an' coyotes an' us.


And we'd ride across prairies where nobody's been,
Sleep under the sky where the eagle is king.
And we'd bunch up the dogies that nobody's seen.
Just me and ol' Smokey my friend.

When his ride is over, I'll dig Smokey's grave.

I own that hill where the Bluebonnets sway.

So he'll be remembered, 

I write with my pen, 

this song about Smokey, 

this cowpuncher's friend.

Now we'd ride across prairies where nobody's been,
Sleep under the sky where the eagle is king.
Now we'd bunch up the dogies that nobody's seen.
Just me and ol' Smokey my friend.
Old Smokey this cowpuncher's friend.

   --Smokey
      --Red Steagall 


Well, this song is a little tender to my heart.
The first horse you fall in love with, you won't forget him/her. Ever.
It could have been a borderline worthless, sometimes hotheaded, ill built, almost ugly horse, but it had heart, so it didn't matter because you can't help it.
You just fall in love with the creature. And the creature, he falls in love with you.
Once you've seen it, you understand, if you've lived it then, well, yeah.
Now I'll bet I could make almost any one of you out there reading this cry if I told you to put your favorite horse's name in place of Smokey's and sing the song to yourself.
Well now, I should be fair and do it too. But I don't have to change any names or words.
My horse, his name; Smokey. Same spelling, same heart.
Alive enough to play games, but always watching out for his little girl.
Always remember your horse.
That one that pops out among all the others.
The exceptional one.
The horse that, from other eyes would not be first choice but that you loved dearly.

The one that you clicked with.

Your very own, one and only, other piece to the puzzle.

--Gussie Lou