The Last Time I Did This

The days following Christmas always seem to be a downer time for me. There is just something about taking down all of the Christmas décor that dampens the cold January mood. And opens one’s eyes.

I was replacing garland with a springy (too early?) arrangement when I found a sure sign that 2016 was the time to get organized: In the bottom of a silver boot vase was the name and phone number of a gal I was supposed to call back in….June. A hundred bucks says I got in a rush to tidy up the homestead – company was probably at the door - and threw this little tattered note into the closest hiding spot I could find: a flower vase.

I’m very resourceful.

But that is sort of how I’ve operated as of late: 

Committing to so much, that I have time to do so little, well.

So I’ve determined that 2016 is the year to get my affairs in order. I searched for and found an old Franklin Covey planner that someone gave me a few years ago. I had great intentions for that planner, and 2012. So great, in fact, that on the first page I wrote my very ambitious 2012 Resolutions:

 

The discovery of this time capsule sent me couchside for a few minutes, reading through the things I wanted so badly to accomplish in 2012 and the emotion – or passion – that lied behind each stroke of the pink Sharpie.

Some goals seemed so easy to hit everyday: 

11. Give Dixie more attention. 

She was such a good dog; little did I know she’d be gone in less than two years.

While others seemed quite lofty, even four years later:

6. Venture with Christine – 2013 launch! 

We were two friends with a plan; one that never truly got off the ground.

But one stood out boldly.

(Get down to) 130 lbs?

Nope. Though I bet my diet started the following Monday.

9. Stop Looking – God’s timing is perfect!

What a nonchalant note for something that quietly weighed on my heart often.  

But I did it.

I quit questioning possibilities and wondering what might have been and remembering how things never actually were.

And fourteen days into 2012 I met the one who is so worth God’s (slllooooooooooowwwwwwwwww) timing. 

I haven’t made a serious resolution, since.

Cody and I were in the truck recently catching up on to-remembers and to-decide-upons before he leaves for the National Western Stock Show. I usually take notes and still send 101 text questions throughout the duration of his trip to ensure I’ve not forgotten something. Or let something die. The last time he did this, I dealt with frozen blue ball waterers and sloppy, thirsty cows who didn’t help the situation. Let’s hope this year is different.

The conversation turned to life talk within five miles and Cody mentioned something else I wrote down: We’re trying to control everything, but in reality we have control over nothing. What a true, scary thought. It reminded me of 2012 Resolution Number Nine: Stop Looking – God’s timing is perfect!

Stop looking.

Worrying.

Justifying.

Planning like we’re in charge.

Tough pill to swallow, at any age.

I read about a challenge the other day asking people to give advice to their 16-year-old self …in two words. I love a good challenge.

Be unique.

Never settle.

Travel often.

Be confident.

Don’t straighten your hair.

Or use box color.

Stand up straight.

Trust your gut about people, I'm serious. 

My two-words list could go on and on...

At an age when I’m trying to get all areas of life organized in an effort to simplify and enjoy, I think this challenge came at a perfect time. I’ve found that when I’m worrying often and letting concern take over my heart, it’s usually at a time when I’m trying to do everything myself. When I feel at peace, it’s usually because I remember that God is in control. What a thought to keep in my back pocket for the tough days ahead!

The last time I did this, I was able to truly focus on only a handful - but they turned out well. So I’m making a resolution to write down four – simple – phrases what will serve as my guides for the year ahead. No books, or businesses, or weight goals:

Give it to God.

Take care of myself.

Be present.

Keep it simple.

I’m going to plaster these bad boys in every nook and cranny in my life – simply, of course.

What might your guides be? 

Twenty total words or less.

Now, how could these guides help me to quit hiding things in oh so random places in an effort to tidy up our homestead? Well, they probably won’t. That lesson is going to come after I misplace something important. Like, really important.

Like a passport. I’m on #3.

Or a social security card.

Has anyone had to have one replaced?

I  would hate to go back into that social security office.

The last time I did that…

Most Hated Person In America

I've never understood why people complain about the weather. 
Or relationships that they know they should have ended six months ago.
Or delayed flights. 
But mostly, the weather. 
What good does that do?
You do know that your downer, dopey, dumpy words to the public won't change things, right?
They don't warm winds or bring the sun...you know that, right?

Don't get me wrong, it's been a long, cold winter. 
Cold, cold winter. 
I mean, we have cats sleeping on tractor radiators and it doesn't even bother me. Now, the day I have to scrape one out of my engine because it was wrapped up around a serpentine belt, we might have issues. 

Let me say, Old Man Winter is like the most hated person in America right now. 
Not Richard Sherman.
Not Dennis Rodman.
Not even Obama. 
Old. Man. Winter. 

This...is not Old Man Winter.

Rather my Canadian cattle friend Scot who embraces negative zero temperatures with a smile. 

Truth be told, his face may be froze that way? 

I saw him in Denver and he was smiling just as big there.

Winters were created so the old dies off and new life can emerge with beauty and brightness in the Spring.
And it was designed to last as long as the other three seasons. 
We all need our time to prove our value, even Old Man Winter. 

When did it become so acceptable and normal to complain about the things we cannot change, like the weather? None of your words are going to change the situation, so why burden everyone else with a healthy dose of Negative Nancy?
Fact: I despise Negative Nancy and all that she encompasses. 
And her ex-step-brother Negative Nick, while we're naming names. They do nothing but promote a sense of helplessness. 
Neediness. 
Softness. 
Let's face it, generally speaking, folks have become soft. 
Especially in cold weather. 

Embarrassingly, increasingly soft people, living in a world of convenience. 

Think about generations before us. Do you think they got anywhere by waking everyday to complain endlessly about the freezing temperatures and wind?
No. 
They put on their big kid Dickies (same ones they wore yesterday) and threw another log on the fire. Then they went and cranked their tractors and hand-milked cows with their bleeding, chapped hands. The only thing they complained about was the fly in their non-pasturized milk. And even then they just mentioned it was missing a wing that they couldn't find. Probably swallowed it. They went on to school and work in snow and drifts because they found a way to get to the place in which they had an obligation.
They didn't sit at home and wait for a delay or closing. 
They got things done. 

My Grandpa Bowman worked at the Perfect Circle factory, the birthplace of  piston rings. My father recalls at least twice when Grandpa's Hudson Hornet couldn't make it out of the driveway, let alone seven (7!) miles to town where he worked. 
So, he walked. 
He walked 7 miles in snow that his car couldn't survive, to a job that fed a wife and 12 kids at home. 
No questions. 
No snow days. 
No excuses. 
Walked seven miles in the snow. 

What happened to the part of Americans that appreciated something that made us work a bit? 

I have this deep appreciation for winter because it makes us struggle a bit and then starts everything new again. Maybe I feel a strange sense of forgiveness and subtle do-overs. It seems everyone appreciates Spring because it is visually appealing and comfortable, but haven't we gotten too comfortable in how we live and view our responsibility in life? We've learned to take the pretty way, not the right one. There is still peace in breaking water for livestock that need it, shoveling (not blowing!) snow for neighbors who can't manage to do so themselves and managing money to pay for propane that is hard to find and afford. 

Where we need to be is not always the most comfortable place. 
It isn't the warm, sunny, 72º location - physically or mentally. 
Sometimes, where we need to be is where we are most uncomfortable. 
The place that challenges us and allows us to grow. 

Maybe this bitter winter - that has affected most of the US - is a way for each of us to reevaluate. To make us struggle a bit, and knock us out of our comfort zone, to appreciate the great things that we love and take for granted. 

Or maybe this bitterly cold Winter is where we realize that there is no better time than now. Quit hibernating and begin understanding where you belong. No longer try to find comfort, but go out of bounds figure out where you're going to thrive. 
Do something different. 
Try something new. 
Quit complaining about things that can't change, and change things that can. 

And lay off Old Man Winter, would ya?
He's just doing his job. 
After all - thanks to him, Spring is just around the corner. 

Cory & Melissa

 Last weekend Jean's Boots were packed and I headed to Alberta to photograph a wedding. Today's Wordless Wednesday includes just a few snapshots of that day.

Waiting on the rain to pass.

Mother seeing the bride for the first time. 

 

Alta Cedar: An Alberta Adventure

Have you ever left a vacation destination and instantly thought, “Wow, I can’t wait to again visit the snow-covered, unplowed range roads while chowing down on donuts with iced-tops that have more thumb prints in them (from a crazy, blue-eyed 3-year-old) than a finger painting project at the local preschool."??

No? 

Well I have.  

Guilty As Charged. 

I spent the last few days in snowy Westerose, Alberta, Canada. And while it wouldn’t be most folks’ spring break destination, I loved every minute of the trip. I wish I could complain about the never-ending snow, or the jet lag, or the trouble in Customs (No, I’m not smuggling any tobacco. Yes, I have been on a farm in the last month. No, I don’t plan on bringing back any Canadian whiskey. I don’t believe my liver could handle any more at this point, Sir).

The truth is, I had a wonderful time at Alta Cedar and I can’t wait to go back. Not only is the hospitality worth writing home about, the people that I meet on each trip to the ranch make the whole plane ticket expense worth while. 

But the cattle - they are the reason I know, and deeply respect, the Boake family. They may be a young crew, but their Shorthorn roots run deep. And while the young-blood is running active, the cornerstone of the operation, William, still supports a dream that started in 1953. Over the last two years, I’ve gained a certain appreciation for the Alta Cedar crew and the way they operate. In the hours before their sale, they take time to laugh, to appreciate their help and to hug their kids.  Come sale time, the bulls speak for themselves. And in 2011, they certainly did just that. From top to bottom, the 2011 Showcase offering was the strongest set of bulls I’ve seen. There was no definite bottom, there was no definite high-seller; they each brought extreme quality to the table, and will play fundamental roles in every operation they ship to. I can’t wait to watch the Alta Cedar bulls perform all over North America. 

Enough about the cattle. I’m not a salesman. I’m a socialite. And I love taking pictures when passion, emotion and dedication are involved. 

Welcome, to Alta Cedar.....

 Debate. 

Snow continues to cover the cows' backs...even into "Spring"

Proof.

Bringing the stock up for the main event. 

Well-Respected auctioneer Dale Stith - from warm Alabama - endures the elements.

Jarrett Davis, of Arda Angus, plays a key role in the preparation of the cattle.

 Mr. William and Edith Boake - the founders of Alta Cedar, 1953.

Christine Boake and Luke Bowman compete against one another in a phone bid-off.

The moment.

Phil and Luke Bowman decide on the next investment for Bowman Superior Genetics.

Auctioneer Dale Stith asked for "three" (thousand) - Samantha, the youngest Boake, had a bid that went unnoticed from the stairs. 

There comes a certain peace in knowing that the future of the industry is in good hands. When I captured this photograph, I knew that the family operation has many successful years ahead of them...

This is where the future, six-year-old Graeson William, and the founders (his great-grandparents), William and Edith, find a common ground: 

the success of Alta Cedar Shorthorns. 

All photographs property of Lindsay J. Bowman.