Please Excuse The Dust

A few weeks ago I was cutting across a snowy lot just after sunrise, heading out to look at a bull of ours. It had (finally) snowed the night before and the cold air cut straight to my lungs. Nonetheless, I was so glad to have the fresh air streaming through me. Sitting in an office (excuse me, a cabin) five days a week can sure get to a person. The sky was cloud-covered, but every so often a glimpse of the shy sun would peak through. I had almost made it to the gate when the clouds opened up and brought the entire farm to life. The reflection off the fresh snow was blinding; the rays breaking through the clouds were piercing. 

It was one of those many moments when I wished I had my camera, not my cell phone. Still, I dug down in my Carhartt bibs and snapped a quick photo. And then, as I do frequently when I encounter something worth passing on, I posted it to Facebook.  

My high school art teacher, whose dry sense of humor I appreciate much, much more  now that I'm a "grown up", commented on the photo, 

"Proof of the beauty in our own backyard 

if we take time to see it."

I couldn't agree more. In fact, that simple comment inspired me to begin to appreciate more the things around me - whether that be at the farm, in my car or literally in my own backyard. Which - by the way - has been filled with an exceptional amount of highway litter in the last month. What is up with that, Wayne County? I don't want to pick up your Sprite cans and I DO NOT want to pick up your dirty Kleenexes. Please be good to our land; it's all we got. 

Because of this newfound appreciation, I was at the farm last night an noticed the old chipped paint on a wall in our maternity ward; it is my favorite color: turquoise. I noticed that if I look out my office (cabin) window I can see an old swing set in someone's backyard; I wonder what stories that old toy could tell. Additionally, in my home, I noticed that I haven't dusted since 2011. Add that to the to-do list...

 

This begins a "Please Excuse The Dust" series I'll come back to from time to time. It simply captures ordinary things in life and puts a black frame around them.

And seriously, please excuse the dust. I didn't prepare for this photo shoot around Jean's Boots headquarters. I walked around my house for 12 minutes and took pictures. My Momma will be so proud....

And to my former teacher, thank you for the inspiration. 

  

Progression

Only the strong survive. And by "strong" I mean the ones that are watered...

One book was published in 1912; the other is still being written...

Momma's 4-H manual, and my Uncle Steve loading the truck bed full of straw to head to the county fair.

Nothing says, "Welcome! Get comfortable and enjoy your stay" 

like a jagged barbed wire wreath. 

I have 7 in my house...

I love (this vintage) lamp. 

My best friends -

Some say diamonds are a girl's best friend. 

Personally, I rely more on my Momma, my beautiful sister and crazy Marlee.

And the Cross. 

And turquoise. 

On my bedroom mantle - a cuff with a bunch of wild cowgirls from 1920. 

On my bedroom mantle - a frame with a bunch of wild cowgirls from 2007. 

I hate the word "bling" - I don't own bling. 

I own history. 

Metal sign I use as my backsplash:

My Life Is A Country Western Song Waiting To Happen 

One of the closests: sequins, fur, lace, denim, leopard, navajo, denim and silk. 

I appreciate diversity. 

I call it "well-rounded"

Oh, the places you'll go....

Vintage.

For more information on Shorthorns you can send a letter 

to their headquarters in Chicago....

True Love: Ralph, Jean and Beef.