Cold has arrived
Here we meet in November and 2025 is almost gone. If you had planned to do something in 2025 or in the first quarter of the 21st Century you had best get to it because the sands of time are fast draining away.
November was named for the Latin Novem, meaning nine. When January and February were added to the Roman Calendar at the start of the year that sure messed up when the ninth month fell. Then again, the Latin for eleven is Undecim and who would want a month of Undecember to come before December? Oh, the pitfalls of developing and naming the months in your own calendar, even if you are the emperor.
Well, we are in November, and the cold has arrived already. I usually go from shirt sleeve weather to vest weather, then to jacket, followed by jacket and vest combo, and finally to winter coat and gloves. I have already jumped straight to winter wear. When the front blew in from the north all bets were off and I am just simply not as tough as when I was in my prime. Now It makes more sense when I recall my grandfather stating that he would, “stay by the fire and keep it stoked with firewood.”
Meanwhile back at the ranch, the cows which were content a week ago, now want supplements to go along with their cured fall grass. Lick tubs of protein and increased cake (ie range cubes) help the fall cured, native grasses to maintain their nutrient value which helps the cows maintain their body condition
Several years ago my dad went elk hunting with me in early November. It was cold so he put on layers of winter clothes complete with gloves and a heavy parka style coat, earmuffs and stocking cap. He also took along water bottles and a plastic bag of candy and snacks. We packed all these “essentials” in a backpack, along with a homemade quilt “just in case.” He was barely able to get the backpack on over his bulky winter clothing and parka coat. With some effort and a small step ladder we got him mounted on Old Red my really solid saddle horse. Dad and Red headed up the trail to his favorite spot to wait for the elk to come by on their return from a night of foraging. They were nearing the selected spot when Red went under a low pine bough. Dad was too encumbered to bend down nor to lay back so the bough slowly swept him out of the saddle and off Red’s rump where Dad landed on his back, head downhill in the trail. Red took a couple more steps then stopped and looked back at dad as if to say, “What are you doing down there?” Dad, on the other hand, had hardly felt the landing through the stuffed backpack and all the layers of clothing. But to his distress he was like a turtle on its back with arms and legs flailing about but not able to get his feet downhill, nor able to turn over. It took him quite some effort to get turned over and to his feet. When he did finally manage to get upright, he grabbed a stirrup and Red towed him on up the trail and to his hunting spot where they enjoyed the day with no elk seen to mess up the day by creating lots of work.
Come take a ride with me on one of those days when it becomes obvious that winter is pushing out fall.
WINTERS COMING ON
He felt stiff in the saddle,
As his pony he did straddle.
He rode out to check his cattle,
To check their water and their feed.
The morning breeze held a chill,
It spun the wheel atop the mill,
The galvanized tank it did fill,
with fresh water to meet their need.
It was late in the fall,
He could still easily recall,
The warmth, the green and all;
The smells of summertime.
And the colors in the leaves,
As they rattled in the trees,
Every morning in the breeze,
When Autumn held its prime.
Fall cooled the summer heat,
With welcome he did greet,
Cool air from his saddle seat,
As the east began to light.
Those spangled leaves have now fallen,
A new season is now callin’.
Firewood he’ best be haulin’
For that breeze now holds a bite.
The green grass has cured to brown now,
Still good feed for horse and range cow,
But it ain’t as purty no-how,
as when the grass was waving green.
Soon will be gone those gorgeous days,
With Autumn’s colors, whims, and plays,
Replaced by whites, and browns and grays,
Of a winter landscape scene.
Winter’s harsh and freezing air,
The sun’s icy, frozen glare,
Will replace Autumns temperate fair,
With a bitter world of cold.
As a rest grips the land,
Until the time will be at hand,
When Springtime returns with joy so grand.
But for now he’ best get ready, as winter takes it’s hold.
