There was a time (twenty years ago) when I wanted to grow up and be like this woman. . .
Here I am, another birthday approaching, thinking about goals I have not yet accomplished and the life I have yet to live. I still admire Tad Lucas, and her fellow cowgirls, but the likelihood that I’ll knowingly crawl on a bucking horse becomes smaller each day. Broncs or not, being a cowboy-girl is an empowering pursuit.
The simple act of putting on a good-fitting pair of cowboy boots, makes me feel confident (not to mention taller). There are also the moments of pure adrenaline. When you take down you rope and lay a loop on a high-headed dry cow or turn back a bovine escapee; being a girl does not matter, if you can get the job done.
The winter doldrums are evaporating here in Idaho. The grass is greening, birds are singing, cattle are calving, and there is horseback work to be done. Nothing lifts my spirits more than being horseback. There is nothing like it. To be horseback is to communicate with pure energy and emotion, a language unto itself.
I am home, afoot, seated not in my saddle, but at the computer. However, my back is a little straighter, my eyes a little brighter, because I was a cowgirl this week. Maybe I will climb on that bronc. . .