Category Archives: Musings

PW Weekend: a morning with the wild mustangs

 

Hello all, and welcome to installment 33,127 of the PW Weekend series.

I’m sorry it’s taking me weeks and weeks and post after post to chronicle what took place over an evening, a day, and a morning.

But I’m also not sorry. Because there are fantastic things to share, in particular these shots of the wild mustangs.

You may be thinking to yourself: wild horses on a cattle ranch? Hunh? The explanation goes something like this: it’s a federal offense to kill a wild mustang. However, this breed of indomitable beauties is taking over certain Western States. So the government was like “Crap! What are we going to do?” Well, they separated the mustangs out into ladies and gentlemen to avoid any more funny business, and contracted people with extensive lands to take care of the horses. The Drummond ranch plays host to a huge herd of mares.

In the winter months, the grasses aren’t enough to sustain them, so Marlboro Man (the Pioneer Woman’s husband) and the kids feed them in the mornings.

We went along for the ride.

It was early . . . but not too early. A mere 7:30am.

Mission #1 was to fill the back of the truck with feed. Marlboro Man didn’t seem to mind that everyone and their mother was taking his picture.

I never in my life would have imagined when I started reading Ree’s website last year that one day my Mom would be riding in the front of a truck with Marlboro Man.

Hi Mom! My head still gets a funny ache when I think about it.

Ann, Jenn and I rode in a separate truck driven by Ree’s eldest daughter.

She successfully drove us through fields . . .

. . . through some kind of moat of danger . . .

. . . and through a landscape riddled with obstacles.

Some obstacles she just drove right over, but some obstacles required talented maneuvering.

Like these cow-shaped obstacles.

Oh wait! Those are actual real cows!

Our kind driver was especially patient when Ann and I shrieked “Oh, can you stop here, we just want to take a couple more pictures!” and practically climbed out the truck’s windows.

This only happened about 529 times.

My name is Patsy.

This is my butt.

All the cows wanted to show me their butts. I could barely get in a good head shot of some nice-looking bovine creature before they were turning around and modeling their hind ends.

My name is Rex Magnificat.

This is my butt.

Thanks Rex. That’s just what I needed to see on a bright and early morning before I’ve even had my coffee.

We were able to see the wild horses in two separate pastures.

I don’t even know what to say about them.

They’re simply glorious.

If only I hadn’t forgotten my telephoto lens.

One minute they were all trotting parallel to the trucks, on the other side of a fence, in their own little world of mustang-ness.

Then . . . whoomp.

Hello, horses. Hello, Jenna.

I like to think we made a connection. A connection that will outlive time and space.

Thank you, Marlboro Man and daughter, for so graciously carting us ladies around your neck of the woods.

Thank you for posing for a million pictures and understanding that because we love the Pioneer Woman, we love you, too.

Make sure to check out Ann‘s rendering of the account–she’s such a funny writer.

And in case you haven’t seen enough of Nelson and Winthrop, here they are again.

And we gigged

I had so much fun a couple weeks ago gigging at the Red Line Tap with my friend Carrie, songwriter and singer extraordinaire.

The night of the performance, we were able to practice a little after the evening service at our church, so I snapped a few pictures of the practice knowing that the lighting at the bar probably wouldn’t be ideal for gorgeous shots.

Eric, Carrie’s husband, was on the keys. He’s so stinkin’ good. They’d just better accept him into the Composition PhD program he’s applying for . . . or else.

Carrie sang her soulful rendition of ‘Black Coffee.’ That song hits the spot every time I hear it.

Petras drummed with soul.

I love capturing shots of artists doing their craft.

My husband manned the camera and snagged a shot of me as well. I was trying to control the nervous flutters in my chest and keep my vocal chords from twanging.

Sometimes they like to twang, or wimp out, or seize up, and the only solution is to run from the stage in terror. Or whisper out notes like a dying woman and hope that an alien from the future will swing by to erase the memories of everyone in the audience. You never heard me sing that horrid note. You never hear me squeak when I was supposed to belt. And you definitely didn’t hear me take about 50 breaths in between every syllable of that song.

Once we got to the actual location though, all my nerves disappeared.

The band sounded great, and thanks to the solid ability and artistry of my friends, I was carried away to a place where nerves could no longer reach me.

Great job on that thingamaging, Eric.

The gig was late on a Sunday night, so there was only a handful of people scattered around the tiny bar. One of them was Cassia, my talented friend who I handed my camera off to. Thanks Cassia. Yeah, she’s the one who hosted that wicked awesome wine tasting party a while back.

It was small and cozy. That may have assisted with my lack of nerves. Plus the fact that stage lights are quite blinding. I heartily approve of that design–it enables me to forget there’s anyone watching at all.

And don’t try to tell me that it helps to imagine a naked audience. I’ve never understood how that could help anyone, anywhere, at any time.

If you want to check out a small chunk of our performance, here’s a youtube video of Winter’s Ashes, one of Carrie’s newest songs. Before you click, know that I’m biting my lip to stop a barrage of disclaimers . . . please remember the sound quality on the video isn’t great . . . please avert your eyes as I sway from side to side and look slightly like a doofus . . . please believe that we REALLY SOUNDED SO MUCH BETTER IN REAL LIFE, FOR REALZ, FOR REALZ . . . But it will at least give you a taste. Plus during the last section you get to see Eric and Petras go to town on their instruments–it’s my favorite part.

For ‘clean’ recordings of Carrie’s songs and wonderful voice, you can also go to her website and knock yourself out.

If you like what you see/hear and you happen to be in the area, come join us at Uncommon Ground here in Chicago, Sunday January 2nd at 9pm, for another beautiful set.

My husband, Carrier of Musical Equipment, Buyer of Sandwiches for the famished band, and Supporter of Everything and Anything related to me and my endeavors, says it’s not to be missed. Or rather, he gave it the thumbs up since his mouth was full of granola bar at the moment. But if his mouth hadn’t been full, he totally would have said it’s not to be missed.