What You Love


The sound of heavy bootsteps and the jingle of spurs woke me from dreams filled with high heels and travel plans. 

My husband was up, dressed, and stirring around the house, waiting on the “guys” to get here.  It was time for me to rise anyway. I threw the shoes I was trying on in my dream back into the closet,  pushed the cobwebs from my mind and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

My husband’s day of  branding cows was soon to begin, and he was waiting on his friends/co-workers/fellow cowhands to arrive with their horses, pick-ups and trailers, so they could put the horses in one trailer, put the cowboys in one truck and head off as the sun was barely kissing the morning sky. 

It wasn’t much longer until the roar of diesel pick-ups and the rattle of trailers stocked with horses begin to break the silence of the morning. 

Cowboys have never had much appeal to me.  I’ve never been a cowboy’s girl.  In high school I always thought they were just a bunch of skinny boys with big belt buckles dressing up everyday.  Now nearly 20 years later, I find myself married to one.  Strange.

The cowboys greet each other, unload horses from trailers, and lead them to  my husband’s trailer to load.  They’ve got 3 different places to work cattle today.  

These are good men.  Actually, the best kind.  A dying breed.  Old-fashioned, hard-working, tough guys.  They love what they do, but it doesn’t always pay enough to do it.  These are men who take vacation days from their “real” jobs with health insurance in order to saddle a horse and swing a rope.  They may even call in sick just to get a workday off.  Sometimes they work the night shift at their other job, take an early morning nap, and then saddle their horse for the day.  They have a passion for this lifestyle.  It’s not about the money, that’s for sure.  

As I sit at the kitchen table, my coffee cup steaming, there’s only one word that describes me.  Proud.  I’m filled with a sense of pride.  Not because I’m doing anything.  Heck, I’m drinking coffee.  But because these fellows work hard, love their work, and do it for practically nothing.   They walk tall, perhaps even strut; dark silhouettes wearing cowboy hats starting their day.  

 I watched out the window until the heat from the house married the cold from the outdoors and steamed up the windows. 

Then I listened to the rattle and rumble of the pick-up  as four cowboys head out to do what they love. 

Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still~~Henry David Thoreau


  1. leon says:

    This is good writing.


  2. Farrah says:

    Love this story!!! just reading it I could see them


  3. RB says:

    Came by your house this morn on my way to amar and saw all the activity. Wondered what was going on. Good writing. Love


  4. Donna H says:

    Wow, beautifully written, Angel! It was almost one of those”Beam me up, Scottie and take me to “The Place” feelings!! I swear I could almost see, hear and feel every thing you described! I was even hankerin’ for a cup of coffee and I don’t even care that much about coffee! You should be so proud of your fine hubby and his friends. Until next time … Donna H.


    1. Angel says:

      Beam me up Scotty……hmmmm, that sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. What show is it from?


      1. Donna H says:

        Star Trek … Captain Kirk, Spock .. but then you might be way to young to remember !!


  5. Great post. This is why I have had you on my blogroll all this time. You talk about the dying breed and the dying lifestyle and the country life, which is a sweet respite for this modern day and age. Thanks for blogging, and thank those cowboys for me, as well as all those horses. 🙂


    1. Angel says:

      Will do! Thanks for being a reader, and having me on your blogroll! I’ll add you to mine.


      1. Thanks, Angel, for the return favor. It’s an honor to be on another’s blogroll. Thank you very much!


  6. Lenore Diane says:

    Very well written post, Angel. I enjoyed it. Thank you.


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