It's Monday!

Today I get to go to work!

It's great to be employed

Where I can make a difference

In somebody else's life.

It's true I must admit to you

I used to be annoyed

When Monday rolled around again

To another week of strife.

But, something happened on the way

To what I'm doing now;

I learned that it's my attitude

About the things I do

That determines how I feel

When Monday rolls around and how

I now tackle each new week

As opportunity, fresh and new.

A Reason to Write

I have been asked by some why it is that I write this blog.  Blog -- now that's a strange word.  For those who don't know it is a shortened form of Web Log.  It is a method of journaling designed for cooperation between researchers who might be at a great distance from each other.  Anyway, back to the subject of this paragraph -- why I write this blog.  It is actually quite simple; it is to discipline myself to write every day.

There are many who have found ways to monetize their blog.  If the site generates sufficient traffic, or "hits," it can be lucrative to advertisers to have their ads placed on the blog in hopes that someone will click on them.  Advertisers pay for the placement of those ads.  This happens on political blogs and book, movie or, product review blogs.  At one time, in fact as one of the reasons I started the blog many years ago, I thought to do the same.  My  reasons have evolved though and that is no longer my purpose.

Perhaps a better question to ask is why do I like to write?  That really is the heart of the issue.  Most people don't seem to write much unless for business purposes.  For me, it is therapeutic.  It also helps me to organize my thoughts in a way that I can "test" them.  What I mean is that it forces me to evaluate the logic of an argument in such a way that it either enforces or disproves (at least based on my current level of knowledge) any theory I might have about controversial topics.

Hmmm....I have been trying to avoid most controversial topics since restarting this blog other than a few political observations at the beginning.  I suppose that is because I find little value in attempting to inject reason into the realm of politics since it is a field which seems to be completely devoid of reason.

Ultimately, I must confess (mainly to myself), I aspire someday to write a book.  I have started many and finished none.  That probably says something of my character, however, I will blame it on busy-ness rather than on lack of ability to stick with a project.  It seems that every time I embark on a work requiring extended focus I seem to get busy with work.  It is in the slow times that my mind returns to writing.

Writing, like any other skill, requires practice.  This blog is about practice.  It gives me a reason (artificial construct though it is) to write something each and every day.  Hopefully there will occasionally be an "accidental" gem produced that someone will find who is in need of that particular reflection of my experiences and thoughts.  I suppose in that sense, the blog's purpose is two-fold -- practice and a desire to share something of value.  Value is, after all, in the eye of the beholder.  It has often been said that one man's trash is another man's treasure.

As you may have guessed if you have read to this point, today is a day in which I struggled to find something about which to write.  So, I have written of writing.  If you are a writer, you are familiar with the struggle.  For the rest of you, pray for rain; we are in the midst of a drought here.

Surviving the Storms

There is an interesting tree growing down in the woods on our place -- well, there are many interesting trees, but this one is uniquely twisted and gnarled.  It isn't a large tree, but it has obviously had a few challenges to overcome during its life.  I would love to know its story.

It is near an old cattle trail that winds through the woods.  I suspect it was stepped on by a cow and broken when it was only a young shoot rising through the leaf litter and other debris on the ground.  

It may even have been broken multiple times by the look of it as it twists and turns on a tortuous path before rising toward the scant sunlight breaking through the larger trees which overhang the trail.

It is a Bois d'Arc tree.  Bois d'Arc, also known as Osage Orange, or Post Trees are fairly common in our area and known for their hardiness.  Early construction laws required that homes be built on a pier and beam foundation which used Bois d'Arc for the piers since they are extremely resistant to insect damage.

I have pulled old Bois d'Arc fence posts from the ground that were likely put in over 50 years previously.  They show surface damage from tunneling beetles and other insects, but if you cut them in cross-section, the inside is still a bright yellow and completely undamaged other than a gray ring around the outside surface that might penetrate 1/8 to 1/4 inch.

The trees themselves, while green and growing, have a strong springy quality that is said to have inspired the name which I understand comes from early French explorers who noted its quality for making hunting bows.  Many of the Plains tribes used the wood for that very purpose.  It is extremely durable.

The Bois d'Arc is a thorny tree.  The short, thin spines seem to reach out and grab you if you are close to the trees.  They also bear large green fruit which fall to the ground and are eaten by a few animals.  I have seen cows chew on them for extended periods and froth at the mouth from the process.  Hogs, squirrels and other small animals will eat them although they don't seem to be a preferred food of any species.

The Bois d'Arc is a survivor.  I have cut them down frequently only to see them grow back quickly.  They are survivors.  They aren't usually aesthetically pleasing, but they endure.

I suppose I see a certain beauty in them though.  I admire their tenacity, if you could ascribe such a trait to a tree.  They are tough, they are prickly and they endure.  I know a few people like that.  Sometimes I think that's the best kind of person to be -- one who endures the pain and troubles and manages to survive.  They carry lots of scars, but oh, the stories they could tell....

Mabel the Guard Donkey

A few years back we adopted a jenny from the BLM's Wild Horse and Burro adoption program.  We called her Mabel.  She had been a resident of a BLM facility in Oklahoma prior to coming our way.

We adopted her because we had been having trouble with coyotes and black vultures harassing new born calves and their mothers.  We had lost a few calves and decided a "guard donkey" was probably the best solution.

We considered purchasing a donkey locally, but thought one that had been born in the wild would have stronger protective instincts than one that was raised in a purely domesticated situation.  Sure enough, Mabel was true to her heritage and was a protective mother to our baby calves even though they weren't her own offspring.

I spent some time with Mabel breaking her to a halter and to lead.  She never completely adjusted to human guidance, but did become less intractable with time.

We needed Mabel because cattle today have had most of their survival instincts bred out of them.  They are used to man caring for them rather than having to cope with a far-from-benevolent natural world which would quickly take their life in the never ending struggle for survival.  We have civilized them -- bred the "fitness" from them.

I think sometimes that is one of the biggest problems with civilized humanity today....

The Hollow Log

Walking through the woods the other day I came across a large hollow log balanced on the bank of a creek.  It was almost 3 feet in diameter and much of it had been broken.  It stretched 12 feet long or longer from end to end.

It appeared to be the remains of a white oak, although it was difficult to tell.  White oak are common in the area and one of the few trees that grow tall and straight to such a large size.  The creek on which this fallen giant lay is a feeder to what is known as "White Oak Bottom" which is the tree and brush-choked course of White Oak Creek winding eastward a short distance to the south.

To be that size, the tree was likely over 50 years old.  It had withstood wind, flood and drought, but it was unable to withstand the constant attack of the insects which are probably what felled it.  Most likely it had lain for many years somewhere along the course of the creek until decay left only a shell which became light enough to float along the frequently flooded waterway to the point where it lodged along the bank.

I'm sure that while it lived it provided shelter for birds and squirrels and food in the form of acorns for the same as well as for deer, feral hogs and other wildlife which break open the hard shells for the nutritious meat of the nut.  It now provided shelter of a different sort for some of the smaller denizens of the neighborhood.

It was large enough that I could almost squeeze into its hollow core although the thought wasn't especially appealing due to the numerous insects and spiders which lived there.  It brought to mind, though, the many times I have read or, saw in a movie, where someone hid inside a hollowed log.  It certainly seemed possible except for the fact it was open at either end and any occupant was readily visible.

Many things crossed my mind as I looked into what once held the heart of this mighty tree.  I thought of the corruption that eats from the inside and I thought of the shell which was once a mighty sentinel.  It made me think of aging and dying and of bones that molder into the earth to provide sustenance for the creatures of the soil.  Birth, life and death are but a momentary flash within the passage of time.  It was a reminder to make certain that brief span is lived with purpose.

The Tracks We Leave Behind

Although we sometimes think we're small

And no one knows our name

We leave our tracks upon the earth

That show the way we came.

Life is short, our days are few

But, think of where you go

For there are those who walk behind

That you may never know

Who seek to follow in your steps

Wherever they may trod.

So, make your pathway straight and true

Led by the Hand of God.

Reality Check

Nothing is real until it is experienced and even then we have our doubts.

Experiential knowledge surpasses "book" knowledge.  Once we have done something -- seen something -- then knowledge moves from head to heart.

Sometimes, from the same, or similar experience, we learn different truths.  Sometimes what we thought we learned was incorrect and must be re-learned.  From repeated mistakes comes a different view of reality.

We are weak and fallible creatures who are faultless until experiential wisdom proves otherwise.

Never accept what you think you know as truth.  All things in this life are tainted by corruption from "the fall." -- Genesis Chapter 3


I've no idea why my thoughts have taken this direction this morning.  Perhaps it is because today is an anniversary.  It is a signpost along the pathway of aging, of maturity, of the passage of time.  It is a day to remember overcoming shortcomings and struggles and remembering joys and victories.  It is a realization that there is an end ahead which marks the termination of the temporal and a heightened awareness of the eternal.  It will be an awakening of true knowledge.-- 1 Corinthians Chapter 15

Endless Repetition

Have you noticed how life is often a series of endless repetition?  The daily routine of getting out of bed, getting dressed, eating, going to work, etc. is an endless repetition of sameness.  Oh, we try to vary the routine somewhat by eating different foods, wearing different clothes, etc., but all-in-all, it is the same thing over and over again.

Mowing the yard is another one of those tasks as is feeding the cattle, feeding the dogs, filling the pickup and car with fuel and on and on.  Why is life so repetitive?

Repetition occurs on a much larger scale than just our daily routines.  The moon goes repetitively around the earth, the earth around the sun and the galaxy itself spirals in endless motion.  The seasons repeat, the weather repeats, long-term climate cycles repeat.  The entirety of the universe is cyclical in nature with repetition built into everything.

It is no wonder that some religions believe in a life/death cycle in which the dead come back as someone, or something else.  Everything is cyclical so why not an eternal existence as various beings?  I don't buy it, but some do.

The same type of thinking leads to a theory of balance -- that it is a "zero sum" game.  For every good there is a corresponding evil.  I don't subscribe to that theory either.  I see good and evil as antagonistic, not balancing complementary states.  Ultimately, I believe good will overcome and in fact, I believe it has already occurred through the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus, but from a temporal perspective, the fulfillment is not observable yet.

Some day we all will see that there is more to life than endless repetition.  The first step is to recognize the salvation from this life that rests in Jesus alone.  -- John 14:6

A Week of Sales Calls

Some days it is difficult to know what to write.  Perhaps, some days, I should write nothing, however, when I restarted this blog a month ago, I committed to myself to write something every day if possible.  I think I have missed one.

This past week was one of travel for business.  I was making sales calls.  Such weeks tire me, yet there is much that needs done here and I struggle with thoughts that I need to be out "ticking things off my list" when what I am doing is sitting at the computer and wishing for a nap although it is only 8:15 in the morning.

It is good to be back home.  I don't sleep well when traveling.  Even though motels look much the same wherever they might be -- whether of the same chain or different -- there is variety in the comfort of the bed and in the most important of all things, the thermostat in the room.  It seems I can never get the thermostat set to a level that is consistently comfortable.

Typically when I travel for business I have at least one or two set appointments.  I also like to do some "cold calling" on such trips if time allows.  It is difficult to coordinate schedules so that I can have back-to-back-to-back scheduled meetings without slack time, so I fill that slack by "dropping in" on potential customers.  I did a lot of that this week.

Many people in sales dread making cold calls.  I think they are my favorite type of call.  It is always interesting to see how you will be received and whether or not you will actually have the opportunity to present your pitch to someone with the power to make a decision.  I always assume on a cold call that it is merely exploratory to see if there is interest which might lead to further calls and ultimately a sale.  Rarely in the type of services that I represent do you make a sale on the first call.

One call this week will go in my "Effective Techniques in Sales" book which will likely never be written.  I dropped by a potential customer and asked for the manager by name.  He was not in his office, but was out dealing with something.  His assistant, however, called him on the phone and let him know that I was there and would like to visit with him.  He said yes, and that he would be back to the office in a few minutes.

I waited patiently for about 5 minutes for him to come in.  When he did, I reintroduced myself to him since it had been many years since I had previously met him and he didn't really remember me.  He said, "You've got 2 minutes," and proceeded to take me into his office where he offered me a seat.  Usually the "you've got 2 minutes" doesn't go with an offer to take a seat.

I gave him my 20 second "elevator speech" and said, "That's it.  Now, what are we going to talk about for the next minute and a half?"  He looked at me and kind of chuckled and said, "Hmmm.....I'm interested, tell me more."

That is always what a salesperson wants to hear -- the prospect asking for more information.  Forty-five minutes later I left with the promise to follow up in the near future.

Will it lead to a sale?  I don't know, but it is the kind of call that makes what I do gratifying.

Josiah Gregg

Yesterday, while heading back to Amarillo from Garden City, Kansas, I decided to take a route that I normally avoid for various reasons.  It was partly because I was a little off the beaten path after making a few sales calls on prospective customers and partly because I hadn't been that way in many years.

I came across a historical marker that I had never stopped to read (on Texas 136 northwest of Amarillo).  It was about Josiah Gregg and the Fort Smith to Santa Fe Trail.  It seems that in 1840, Josiah Gregg, one of the most famous Santa Fe Traders, explored a new route from Santa Fe to Fort Smith, Arkansas.  Instead of the well-traveled trail which followed the Arkansas River, he set off across the plains following the south bank of the Canadian River across the Texas Panhandle.

Gregg wrote a detailed account of the terrain and water sources which became invaluable to the U.S. Cavalry in the later wars against the Indians of the Southern Plains.

A brief history of Gregg can be found at the following link:

Josiah Gregg

A great resource for those interested, is the Atlas of Texas Historical Markers.  Whenever I have the time I enjoy stopping to read the markers.  There is a lot of interesting history scattered along the wayside of the roads and highways of the Great Lone Star State.

Deeper Conversations

A part of my job is sales.  It isn't what most people think of as sales, because it requires that a relationship be developed that includes a high level of trust.  I have no desire to merely sell a product to someone, I want to make my customer's life easier and I can only do that if I can deliver value to them.

Over time, what began as a business relationship can develop into friendship.  We often claim friendship with others with whom we enjoy spending time, but frequently it is a fairly shallow type of friendship.  It is rare that you can truly relate to someone on a level which allows you to talk of important things such as faith and struggles.

I had the good fortune today to spend time with someone I consider a friend.  We met this afternoon in a business setting, but were able to spend some time together this evening talking about family, faith and some of the struggles we deal with -- much of it work related, but some of which was not.  I value such times.  They are a reminder that there is more to life than work and things.

Life is better when we take the time to build relationships that allow for deeper conversations.

1 John 4:11
Prov. 27:17

A Neglected Hobby

About four years ago I decided to try a new hobby -- watercolor painting.  Above is a sample of what I painted.  This one is probably my favorite.  I drew it from a historic photograph I found on the Internet.

It is a bit caricaturish -- I'm sure that isn't a word, but it describes it anyway.  The most difficult part was drawing the picture.  Mixing colors with watercolor seemed fairly simple to me except for the fact that I usually didn't get quite enough mixed up of the color that I wanted and then had to attempt to recreate it.  Sometimes the match was fairly good and sometimes not.

To me, watercolor seems more forgiving than many other paints.  That may just be my naivete talking.  I drew a little when much younger, but never attempted painting.  In spite of the amateurish look, I suppose I was proud of it.

It is easy to become discouraged when attempting something new like this at such a late stage in life -- especially when the vision in my head doesn't quite make it onto paper in the same way it is in my head.  I need to find time to work at it some more.  It just takes me awhile to get in the right frame of mind to be creative.  Maybe the next attempts will be a little better....

Travel and Work

When I travel for my work I find the hours are mighty long;
I work when I awake and often well into the night.

The phone is always ringing, this computer in my hand
That buzzes with the e-mail or when a text the screen does light.

Instead of setting it aside to wait until the 'morrow
I frequently just deal with it and sometimes work quite late.

For what else am I going to do while stuck in a hotel
Since I care not for the t.v. where mindless heads do prate?

I usually fill the silence with a keyboard in my hand
And if by chance I find the time I often sit and write;

It is a simple thing that can occupy my mind
Even if it's something like this Blog I wrote last night.

[Sometimes I experiment a bit with which lines rhyme.  This one is a little awkward, but the pattern worked.  I'm sure some English teacher or, literary purist would have a fit over it, but I don't write for them anyway....]

(It's kinda cool that you can schedule when it posts....)

Obsessed by Politics?

I hate politics.  I hate politics.  I hate politics.

Now that you know how I feel about politics I'm going to write about politics.

I am fiscally conservative and somewhat middle-of-the-road on many social issues.  If I were to identify with any particular candidate it would probably be a mix of Ted Cruz and Rand Paul.  To sum it up, quit taking my money and spending it wastefully and quit trying to legislate morality.  Protect our borders, negotiate free trade, but let people live their life the way they want as long as it doesn't directly infringe on the rights of others.

The media is obsessed by politics.  Why?  I suppose it is the greatest source of drama and controversy available and we all know that is what sells.  The only possible greater source would be Hollywood which seems to thrive on controversy.  Both are driven by the "look at me" syndrome of a child who just wants to be noticed.

I suppose that in a nutshell, it takes a narcissist to want to be a politician.  I have a hard time going around begging people for money so that I can confiscate more of their money, attempt to run their lives and then expect them to "worship" me for what I did to them.  Just leave me alone.  Provide an environment in which I can take my own path in the "pursuit of happiness."  That's probably why I took a path other than politics.

Am I obsessed with politics too?  I guess in a way I am.  I am obsessed with a hatred of it.  Hate is a strong word that I don't use very often.  Perhaps righteous anger would be a better description of how I feel -- or may righteous indignation.  I am indignant that our political system has devolved to such a level.

It doesn't surprise me though.  Fallen mankind is acting out the age-old drama of placing "self" in the center of all things.  Until we elect political representatives (notice the switch in terms here) that place their faith in God rather than themselves, nothing will change.

Book Shopping

Normal Saturdays are filled with various chores such as mowing the lawn and other things around the house.  Frequently, at least part of the day is spent working at the ranch doing one of the myriad never-ending chores there.  Yesterday, we instead spent a day of relaxation.

We woke to a brief light rain that didn't do much to ease the drought, but at least brought temporary respite to the high temperature which soared later in the day.  It did, however, cause us to spend a little time just relaxing and doing some reading.

Because of the drought, we did have to feed some hay to the cows and check their water.  During heat and drought, water is the number one most essential thing for the cattle.  Afterward, instead of spending time working on the never-ending encroachment of brush, or some other task, we headed back to town.

After a brief nap following lunch, we drove to a larger town to do some shopping and so that I could get a desperately needed haircut.  We had a gift card for Olive Garden and planned on eating dinner there, which we did, but having some time to kill we decided to head to 1/2 Priced Bookstore for a little shopping.

I must admit that books are one of my weaknesses.  Fortunately, my wife shares a similar enjoyment of reading and there is no end to the books in our home.  I have read most of them, but there are a few that are specifically hers which don't appeal to me.

I could spend hours in a bookstore.  Actually, that probably isn't true.  I seem to immediately find an armful of books that I am interested in reading and am ready to head to the checkout counter so that I can get started on them.  The only exception to that is when I have limited myself to a specific amount of money that I am willing to spend that particular trip and have difficulty choosing which of the many desirable choices I want to invest in.

Yesterday was one of those days that I had more books than I could comfortably carry within about five minutes of entering the store.  My wife is a little more choosey in her reading and it took her a little longer, so I then proceeded to annoy her (probably) by helping her find books.  I'm saying, "What about this one?  Did you see this?  You might like this one." or, some such, while she is likely thinking, "Please, let me look on my own!"

After awhile she said, "Are you ready to check out?  I'm hungry."  Of course, I had been ready for some time, but was perfectly willing to let her shop.  Yeah, I'm not much fun to go shopping with.  Browsing isn't my thing.  Let me go find what I want, get it bought and get out.

Now, to work through this stack of books.  Which one first....?

The Gentle Sound of Rain

This morning I awoke
To the quiet sound of rain
Upon this dry and dusty arid plain

It brought a gentle comfort
As I lay there in my bed
Thinking how it brought a peace into my head

I thought how only yesterday
The dust arose like smoke
And clogged the air I breathed and made me choke

And I remembered cattle coughing
Standing still beneath the shade
The few and scraggly trees and bushes made

But, the simple sound of moisture
Falling gently from the sky
Promised their relief was surely nigh

In my head I thanked my Maker
For the blessings He bestows
Then quietly rose and slipped into my clothes

And walked to the window
To look out upon the rain
Falling gently on this sun-scorched weary plain

Never Ending Labor

It seems there is no end to the tasks that need doing at the ranch.  Today it is clearing brush from a fence line and preparing a level area to set a replacement stock water tank.  At 7:00 a.m. it is already 80 degrees with humidity of 64% and the sun hasn't shown itself for the high clouds which hold little promise of much needed rain.

We do most of the physical labor on our place; it is not a large ranch requiring numerous employees,  it is small and I have a hard time paying someone else to do what I can do.  Some might argue that if I am able, I should hire someone else to give them a job.  I've never seen it that way.

If I have time and am both physically able and have the knowledge to do a job, I will do it.  If I don't have the requisite knowledge or, tools for some jobs, I might hire someone else to do it -- such as cutting and baling hay.  If I don't have the time due to more remunerative employment of my personal labor, I will hire things done.

I was never one to think that just because I am able to pay someone else to do the job that I should sit back and watch them toil away while I play the role of "boss."  It isn't my style.  I guess, because of that, I can more easily relate to folks who "work" for a living than I can those who merely "boss others" for a living.  I don't like to ask someone to do a job that I am unwilling to do.

Oh, well, so much for the digression into my theories of doing physical labor...there is work to be done and we're burning daylight.

Make a Difference

Success comes sneaking in the door
With little acts each day
That take you toward your every goal
With steps that never stray.

It's making sure the things you do
Lead toward your lifelong dream
No matter how the headwinds
Make it feel you're losing steam.

If what you seek is worthy
You will overcome all strife
And you'll truly make a difference
In another person's life.

Keep your focus on each goal
That you have set for every day
As you travel on this journey
Of the Straight and Narrow Way.

Monarch Butterfly Caterpillars

I mentioned the other day that we try to manage our ranch in a way that supports wildlife.  Today, I found a great example of that.  Monarch butterflies.

I took the grand kids on a hike this morning and we discovered that the Monarch caterpillars are in full swing devouring the milkweeds that we deliberately allow to grow in certain areas of the ranch.  They can only thrive in grassland.

Here are some photos of the caterpillars.  Can you spot them?  We only saw one Monarch butterfly in the air and I was unable to get a photo of it.

Ice Cream

Some of the more vivid memories of my childhood come from family gatherings at my grandparents house when they still lived out on the farm which was ten miles out in the country in the wide open Texas Panhandle.  Grandpa would have a watermelon or two chilling in the shade of a huge elm tree, or possibly in the cow tank.  Generally the women would spend a lot of time with cooking pies and the huge meals it took to feed everyone.

The other thing that stands out in my mind is making homemade ice cream.  The freezer was hand cranked by one of my uncles while I typically got the job of sitting on top of it.  Why, you might wonder, did I have to sit on top?  To keep it from moving around while the handle was being cranked to churn the ice cream!

It was a cold seat on top the churn which was filled with ice and salt in order to make the ice cream mix freeze.  Grandma usually would have several "flour sack" towels folded over it to cover the ice and provide insulation as well as a dry seat for me.  The tub of the ice cream maker would sit inside a larger wash tub to catch the slushy slurry of ice, water and salt which came out of the small hole on the side.

Sometimes we would sit in the shade, but most often we would sit on the back porch while it was being churned.  Whichever uncle was in charge of turning the crank would sit on an overturned bucket.  It was easy to tell when the ice cream was almost ready because it became harder to turn the crank and the churn "wanted to walk" around within the wash tub.  That's the reason I sat there listening to the constant sound of the churn going around and around in the ice.

Those were good memories.  They come to mind because today we are making homemade ice cream for the grand kids.  The crank has been replaced by an electric motor, but hopefully the memories being created will still be good ones.