Distant Hills - watercolor
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Monday, January 28, 2013
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Friday, January 25, 2013
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Hoppy Memorabilia
Denise came across my black denim embroidered Hopalong Cassidy
suit (it doesn't fin anymore). My mother had stored it for
twenty some years and gave it to Denise sometime
in the early seventies, so it must be 61 or 62 years old.
I was a dedicated Hoppy fan and am wearing Hoppy
belt, holsters, cap pistols and cowboy boots
in the Christmas photo. The wrist watch and Knovelty
pocket knife (not shown) I accumulated after I was
grown. I was still eating breakfast out of my
Hoppy bowl until Denise took it away from me
after we were first married.
suit (it doesn't fin anymore). My mother had stored it for
twenty some years and gave it to Denise sometime
in the early seventies, so it must be 61 or 62 years old.
I was a dedicated Hoppy fan and am wearing Hoppy
belt, holsters, cap pistols and cowboy boots
in the Christmas photo. The wrist watch and Knovelty
pocket knife (not shown) I accumulated after I was
grown. I was still eating breakfast out of my
Hoppy bowl until Denise took it away from me
after we were first married.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
From the Bench
Letting fly with a 50-140 3 1/4 from the
bench is not a pleasant experience.
Shooting it offhand is a much better
way to dissipate the recoil.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Friday, January 11, 2013
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
The Ride
THE RIDE
The story starts at least in partsOn a hot Fourth of July
It was rodeo time, when beer was prime
And peanuts cost a dime
A strawberry roan had set the tone
For the buckingest bronc in line
Lonesome Ed and his brother Fred
Had entered for the longest ride
The strawberry horse had set the course
And threw Ed before he tried
The cowboy next was also vexed
And fell ass over the horses behind
Two more got kicked through the door
And swore they’d tan his hide
But now it was Fred came out of the shed
And climbed on the roan this time
He set his spurs deep in the fur
Of the side winding fish belly horse
The roan took the first dare
And with four feet in the air
Twisted full circle and landed in dirt
Fred grabbed his hat gave the horse a pat
And spurred him deep to the muscle core
The horse was now sore and headed for the door
Of the arena on the rodeo grounds
The ride was done and Fred had won
But now he couldn’t dismount
They went through the door
Fred’s head on the floor and his feet high in the air
The roan didn’t even stop for a mare
They headed across the prairie at a slow canter and lope
Fred learned to ride from the belly side
And became the brunt of rodeo jokes
The horse was sold for a pot of gold
As rodeo stock he fit the mould
Ed left the game someone else could tame
The sunfishing white bellied roan
Fred tired again weeks later it’s said
But his ride was so slow he was dead
Ed and Fred it’s said left the circuit and wed
Twin strawberry blonds instead
©Copyright June 2, 2007 by Terry D. Sutherland
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Friday, January 4, 2013
Bora, by TD Sutherland
Bora
by TD Sutherland
by TD Sutherland
We rode the Bora’s frozen breath
With blue fingers we grasp
The bowlines for the weather leech
A spanker snapped and begin to thrash
We laid low by the mainsul mast
While the maiden, she climbed the swell
Followed the curl and broke away at last
Free sailing as she’s compelled
The Bora tames to a mistral
The maiden finally sees the sun
The swarthy sea turns azure blue
And rocks gently now the maiden’s run
With blue fingers we grasp
The bowlines for the weather leech
A spanker snapped and begin to thrash
We laid low by the mainsul mast
While the maiden, she climbed the swell
Followed the curl and broke away at last
Free sailing as she’s compelled
The Bora tames to a mistral
The maiden finally sees the sun
The swarthy sea turns azure blue
And rocks gently now the maiden’s run
©Copyright September 2, 2010 by Terry D. Sutherland
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
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