Range Horse

Range Horse

He believes in the Kinghood of a young boy and his legs hold the key to all travel.

He's a guardian angel and the occasional test run bronc.

He's a little cowboy's dream horse.

A range pony deluxe.

He stands with his ears set forward as the youngster flails aboard his back.

His mane is sparse and his gait is none of a western pleasure horse.

He's handled bulls, cows and calves and seen most ev'rything a horse can see.

To horse this boy is King.

To the boy, he rides a dream.

He was built to cover country, the boy was built to set upon his back.

There is no bluffing the pair.

Nor is there an interchangeable match. 

For God made horse for child and child for horse.

And The Lord bestowed trust in each of each other.

He's just an old range horse.

To him this boy is King.

xoxo Gussie Lou

When God Made The Cowboy

When God Made The Cowboy

I think that when the Lord made the cowboy He knew that He must give him a guardian angel. 

Thus the horse, God's most precious gift to the true cowboy.

He made the horse with watchful eyes, keen ears and instincts guided by God Himself.

He gave him sound hooves and unbelievable athletic ability.

He left the horse somewhat of a mystery to man.

Something with divinity and power. 

The Lord put a pure heart in his chest and mane flowing from his neck.

He whispered in each horse's ear, He told each one their duty to uphold.

One horse shall be a lesson the man, another an example of true love.

And I imagine the Lord said to them "Ride hard kids. Ride hard." 

And bid the buckin ponies good day, the ranch ponies and every horse a child would touch and blew a kiss to them as they loped into the life of an unexpectant cowboy. 

Off to a rodeo tonight and I hope ya'll are havin a wonderful day!!!

Hugs, 

           Gussie Lou!

Boots and Spurs

Boots and spurs tapping to "Run Boys Run" 

Horses whispering to me and a breeze whipping through my windows.

Shades and a flat hat, a smile and lipstick.

Manes and braids flowing with the wind,

Flying away for the king of broken hearts to mend.

Highway and dust and the mountains smiling in their spring.

The wind that calls my name and the horses that dance in the wind's making dust,

They all run.

Running forever in my heart.

Where they will reign and keep calling me out to the desert.

Freedom's song sings to me, 

And there is no freedom like that of a horse.

Sweat band wet from the day before,

My body stiff and worn.

A pounding in my bones and blood rushing through my veins.

Meadows like old memories,

Horses like love at first sight.

God's hand in a cowboy's life.

My braid unravels in this wind like the roads that sprawl this map.

Boots and spurs tapping to "Run Boys Run" 

Gussie

Fairy Tales

 Just a little something!

Luvs,

G

Branding Trap

Branding Trap

It's an essence, a feeling.

Of happiness, of love.

Of belonging.

It's like going home.

It's the gathering place of the Lord,

The gathering place of friends.

Where love is found,

And where love never ends.

We ride the sulky ponies,

We ride the rank ones too.

We ride the old broke bridle horses, 

Our smiles shimmer in the happiness of our hearts.

We kiss in this dust,

We cuss in this dust, 

And we rope the soggy calves.

It's where you know you're meant.

Where God intended you, 

Where when He made you He said "Set them there. Among the sagebrush and the horses. There, in the dusty branding trap. Coughing in the branding iron smoke and the dusty desert dirt with giddy souls."

Then God smiled upon the cowboys and the cowboygirls.

And our hearts still long for the branding trap.

xoxo Gussie and Kricket

. . . .Cowboys and Cattle Land, A Little Old Bunkhouse. . . .

Cowboys and cattle land
A little old bunkhouse.
Dust in the summer
Blizzard scar in the winter
Wind through the pines.
A creek littered with laughing children in wet denim
Unraveled braids
Mischievous smiles masking pure hearts.
Horse hair and sweat.
Perfected biscuit recipe
Golden like the horse that shares its name.
Wiry strands of creamy mane lace my fingers.
Conchos show the sun to itself.
Broncs have run these corrals
Their hooves have acquainted with the cedar.
Black and white cow dogs trot beside a young boy on a big sorrel.
Cow-calf pairs drift on.
Bulls butt heads, throwing 2000 pounds one way then the next.
83 years of experience, memories and heart sit atop a paint
And grandma cusses in the kitchen.
Fresh air tastes better spiced with freedom
And we bounce in our innocence and happiness.
Silk and slides smile beneath smiles.
Metal rattles at the gravel.
Shiners beneath felt laugh at the world from their black and blue.
Fresh horses shake out in steep country.
God smiles upon the land
The horses
The buckaroos and buckaroogirls.


<3 <3


Have a phenomenal day all!!
Luvs, Gussie

Gypsy Drifters

The Gypsy Drifters

Yellow lines run, just like me, from mountains to the desert.

My heart throws itself at the land and at the horses.

Snow paints over the dust, the rabbit brush stands like islands and The Eagles sing me on down the road.

Old cedar fences strung with the barbed wire curse bear big Angus bulls.

Time seems to slip away in my parts, but the fresh country rings wild and adventurous.

The sage and the scent of horses drift across this cold breeze. 

I wonder what Texas is like.

I wonder how far I could run, how far I could ride across that range.

Coffee, hot and bitter, and I can feel horse hide on my skin always and I dream of grays and blacks, sorrels, roans and bays.

Like an artist with his canvas, me with my map and I splash some paint across the West. 

The barns that sweep through my fingers remind me of the ranch, of grandpa, of the old days.

The cedars staring at the gypsies as they pass remind me of a bird dog’s grave. 

The sage brush covers country like a grouse pup across the desert mountain's ridge.

The cliffs and the rocks are the only things that fence me in.

I don’t know where all I’ll go, all I know is right now, I’m driftin’ through old Idaho.

Gussie