Country Lifestyle
Western Housewives – June 2024
Life consists of small events that define us. Sometimes, it’s something as simple as eating cake with your two-year-old at midnight at your sister’s wedding. Sometimes, it’s something as painful as taking your two-week-old to the emergency room with RSV and living there for a week. Both are moments that changed me, and both are moments that I’ll remember forever.
Often my defining moments have happened on the back of a horse. I guess that is because that is where I have spent most of my life. It has made me pay special attention to each horse I have ridden during different stages of my life.
My first horse was a big bay horse that was must have reminded me of Greek mythology because it took me about two seconds to name him “Hercules.” He was the perfect mount for a five-year-old that acted tough but was secretly scared of her own shadow. Once I got Hercules, I could start going to work with my dad. We gathered wheat pastures and road pens, and he let me sit in the round pen on Hercules while he worked his sale horses. At the ripe age of five I was a pretty seasoned pen rider and had the sour disposition to prove it.
One morning we had a lot of wheat pasture freshies to turn out. Naturally, they ran off as soon as they got off the truck. Babies cry, and wheat pasture cattle run off the truck; I don’t make the rules.
My Dad had to leave me and get in front of the herd to keep them from crashing into the fence. I’m sure he told me just to stay put, but Hercules got excited by all the commotion and started following the impending stampede. Now I realize that I was safe the entire time, but, at that moment, I was certain my life was over. I was dramatic even as a youngster. Would Hercules ever stop? Would he try and jump the sprinkler tracks? What if he runs through the hot wire? And most importantly, what will I tell my friends?
About the time I was ready to jump into the dirt my Dad ran up beside me and helped me stop Hercules. I was safe, my adrenaline was pumping and I was promised an Allsup’s Coke for all my troubles. That was a defining moment in my life. I realized the more danger you got yourself in to, the much bigger the condolence award. As long as I was able to keep it to an Allsup’s Coke level of danger I would be just fine.
The next horse I truly loved was named “Alotofbull” He was anything but full of bull. He was big, cowy, and athletic. He scared me just a little but that’s what made me love him the most. My Dad and I won countless events on Alotofbull. My Dad has true horsemanship pumping through his veins, but I can only credit my riding success to Alotofbull. He made things easy for me and I felt I was nothing without him.
Even after all the ribbons, the moment I remember the most about him wasn’t in the showpen. it was in the middle of nowhere on a place we called “The Cain.” The Cain was where I spent many fall afternoons and summer mornings. It was full of Sandhills, cactus that were found of my backside every time my seat left the saddle, and absolutely no sign of civilization. We would push cows to water, move pastures, and do other slow-paced things that were good for the horse and for the mind. I loved it there.
One afternoon in the middle of June, my Dad and I were moving some cattle to water. After we were done we came upon a set of old pens that my Dad had branded calves in with his Dad a long time ago. My Dad got quiet and solemn. Traits that were unusual for him. He started to reminisce of times long ago and told me how much he wished all his kids had gotten to know his Dad before he had passed away many years prior. I was only 14 at the time, and I was having trouble holding back tears myself. I leaned forward and played with Alotofbull’s black mane. I knew my grandfather had been a special man and I knew my Dad had cherished him. It made me see my Dad in a different light going forward. Yes, he was strong and resilient, but he was also human, just like the rest of us. He had a vulnerability in his life, too. It was a moment that taught me not to be afraid to talk about the hard stuff but to always press on. No matter what.
Many years later, I found myself in beautiful Oklahoma on a horse named “Reuben.” He was my then-boyfriend’s horse and was the only quick and little horse I had ever ridden. He was spunky and made me feel like better help than I was as we gathered pairs to wean that morning.
The sun was just coming up over the cottonwood trees, making the dewy grass shine. I looked over at the man beside me and just knew I would spend the rest of my life doing this very thing with him. I didn’t care if we ever had money or much of anything, really. As long as we were together, loving God, and riding good horses, I didn’t care about anything else.
About 12 hours later, after a long day and a few incidents that may or may not have involved me getting run over by a yearling, that same man proposed to me. We had never talked about it out loud, but I guess God had put it in both of our hearts. It was a moment that, of course, changed the rest of my life. It taught me not to overthink things when they are right and that an Oklahoma cowboy was just what my life needed.
I’ve had many horses and many defining moments in my life. Sometimes, I have loved the horse, and sometimes, I have not. The same goes for the moments. Nevertheless, each horse and moment has taught me something. After all this time, I am convinced that no matter how old I get, I will never be too old to ride a good horse because I will never be too old for a defining moment.
That being said, if one or two of my life lessons could involve another Allsup’s Coke, that’d be all right by me.
Country Lifestyle
Apple Fritter Quick Bread
Total Time: 1 hour and 40 minutes
Servings: 10
2 medium apples (any type), peeled, cored & diced
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 3/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 cup milk
For the Glaze:
- 1/2 cup (60g) powdered sugar
1–2 tbsp milk
1/4 tsp vanilla extract
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease and line a 9×5-inch loaf pan with parchment paper.
Peel and chop apples and place in a bowl with brown sugar and cinnamon. Toss and set aside.
In a large mixing bowl, cream together butter and granulated sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a time, then add vanilla. In a separate bowl, whisk together flour and baking powder. Gradually add dry ingredients to the butter mixture, alternating with milk, mixing until just combined.
Next, pour half of the batter into the loaf pan, top with half of the apple mixture, then repeat with remaining batter and apples. Lightly swirl with a knife for a marbled effect.
Bake for 50–55 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Cool in pan for 10 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
In a small bowl, whisk together powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla until smooth. Drizzle over cooled bread.
Slice and enjoy warm or at room temperature.
Country Lifestyle
The Almanac: Old Wisdom, New Uses
By Savannah Magoteaux
It may seem old-fashioned in today’s world of instant weather apps and precision farming tools, but for generations, farmers and ranchers have kept something tucked alongside their feed store receipts and fencing pliers: the almanac.
If you’ve ever wondered what makes an almanac different from a regular calendar—or how you can actually use one on the farm today—you’re not alone. The truth is, there’s a reason the almanac has stuck around for more than two centuries. It’s part tradition, part practical guide, and part good old country common sense.
What Exactly Is an Almanac?
At its simplest, an almanac is an annual publication that contains a wide variety of information:
- Weather forecasts (both short-term and long-range)
- Moon phases and sunrise/sunset times
- Best days for planting, harvesting, and other chores
- Tide tables
- Astronomical data (eclipses, meteor showers)
- Farming advice
- Home and garden tips
- Folk wisdom and humor
The Old Farmer’s Almanac, founded in 1792, is probably the most famous, but there are many versions today—including regional editions designed for specific areas of the country.
What sets an almanac apart is that it doesn’t just tell you what is happening; it often tells you when and how to do things based on seasonal rhythms, tradition, and long-standing patterns of nature.
How Are Almanac Predictions Made?
One of the most famous parts of the almanac is its weather forecast section.
While the exact methods are often kept secret, most almanacs combine:
- Historical weather patterns
- Solar cycles (like sunspots)
- Lunar phases
- Meteorological data
They aren’t as precise as modern radar forecasts, but they’re designed to give a general idea of what to expect for an upcoming season. Many readers use them more for planning and tradition than strict prediction.
Interestingly, some almanacs claim accuracy rates of around 80%, though independent studies suggest they’re closer to 50–60%. Still, for long-range planning—like when to schedule planting, hay cutting, or even branding days—many farmers find them helpful.
How to Use an Almanac Today
If you flip open an almanac today, you’ll find it offers much more than weather. Here are a few practical ways to use one on your farm or ranch:
- Planting by the Moon: Many people still plant certain crops according to the waxing and waning of the moon, believing that different phases influence root growth, fruit production, or hardiness.
- Scheduling Hay or Harvest: Long-range dry or wet forecasts can help you pick safer windows for cutting and baling hay.
- Livestock Planning: Some ranchers time breeding, calving, or vaccinations according to signs in the almanac (or at least avoid unlucky dates!).
- Gardening Tips: Almanacs are packed with advice on companion planting, pest control, and organic practices.
- Household Projects: Need to set fence posts or pour concrete? Some almanacs recommend the best days for setting things in the ground to “set stronger.”
Even if you don’t follow it to the letter, it can still offer a broader way of thinking seasonally—something that technology sometimes encourages us to forget.
Tradition Meets Technology
Many almanacs now have companion websites and apps, offering digital versions of their classic wisdom.
Still, there’s something satisfying about flipping through a paperback almanac, circling dates, and marking notes in the margins just like the generations before us.
It’s a reminder that even in a high-tech world, farming and ranching are still closely tied to the rhythms of nature—and a little old-school wisdom never hurts.
References:
- The Old Farmer’s Almanac – https://www.almanac.com
- Farmers’ Almanac – https://www.farmersalmanac.com
- University of Illinois Extension – Understanding the Farmer’s Almanac Weather Predictions
- National Weather Service – Historical Weather Patterns
SIDEBAR_
5 Fun Facts About the Almanac
1. It’s Older Than the U.S. Constitution.
The Old Farmer’s Almanac was first published in 1792—one year after George Washington was elected President.
2. There’s a “Secret Formula” for Weather Predictions.
The Old Farmer’s Almanac claims it uses a top-secret mathematical formula, created by its founder Robert B. Thomas, that factors in sunspots, tidal action, and planetary positions.
3. It’s Not Just One Almanac.
There are actually several famous almanacs, including the Old Farmer’s Almanac and the Farmers’ Almanac, and they’re produced by different companies with slightly different forecasting methods.
4. Moon Phases Matter.
Many planting and farming guides in the almanac are based on the waxing and waning of the moon. According to tradition, above-ground crops do better when planted during a waxing moon, and root crops thrive during a waning moon.
5. It Once Had a Hole in the Corner.
Early editions of the almanac were printed with a hole punched through the corner. Why? So farmers could hang them on a nail in the barn or outhouse for easy reading (and sometimes, as a backup to toilet paper)!
Country Lifestyle
The Sounds of the Country
Daylight in the country is busy. There are engines, gates, dogs, birds, wind, and people moving with purpose. Even when it feels quiet, there is usually something making noise. It is familiar noise, the kind you stop noticing because it belongs there.
Night is different.
When the sun drops and the work winds down, the sounds change. Some disappear entirely. Others step forward like they were waiting their turn. It is only then that you realize how much the land talks after dark.
The first thing most people notice is how far sound carries at night. Voices travel farther. A truck door slams a half mile away and still feels close. Coyotes sound like they are just beyond the fence, even when they are scattered across an entire section.
There are reasons for that. Cooler nighttime air is denser, allowing sound waves to move more efficiently. During the day, sunlight heats the ground unevenly, creating air layers that bend and scatter sound. At night, temperatures even out, and sound travels straighter and farther. The land does not get louder. You just hear more of it.
Coyotes are often the headliners. Their howls, yips, and barks are not random noise. They are communication. A single howl can be a location check. Group yipping can signal territory or reunite scattered pack members. What sounds like chaos is often a coordinated conversation that carries for miles.
Owls tend to follow. Great horned owls announce themselves with deep, rhythmic calls that sound older than fences and roads. Barred owls ask their unmistakable questions from creek bottoms and timber. These calls serve the same basic purpose as the coyotes’. Territory, presence, and pair bonding, all broadcast into the dark.
Insects fill the gaps. Crickets and katydids create a steady background hum that changes with temperature and season. In late summer, their calls are loud enough to drown out distant traffic. In early fall, the rhythm slows. By winter, silence settles in where that sound once lived.
Frogs take over after rain. Stock tanks, ditches, and low spots become stages. Each species has its own call, its own timing, its own volume. To someone unfamiliar with rural nights, it can sound overwhelming. To those who live with it, it becomes reassurance that water is present and life is moving.
Livestock contribute their own nighttime sounds. A cow bawling for a calf. Horses shifting and blowing softly in the dark. The occasional thump of hooves when something unseen moves through the pasture. These noises are usually brief, but they catch your attention because they break the expected rhythm.
Some sounds are seasonal. In the fall, migrating birds pass overhead, calling to one another in the dark as they navigate by stars and landmarks. In spring, night birds return, filling the air with calls that have been absent for months. The land sounds different when life is arriving versus when it is leaving.
What surprises many people is how much quieter the country can be without human interference. With fewer buildings, less traffic, and minimal artificial lighting, natural sounds are not masked the way they are in towns and cities. Even distant highways fade into the background, leaving space for subtler noises to emerge.
That quiet can feel uncomfortable at first. Silence magnifies small sounds. A branch snapping or leaves shifting can sound larger than it is. Over time, you learn what belongs and what does not. The land teaches you what is normal.
Nighttime sounds also slow you down. There is less pressure to move, to fix, to finish. Sitting on a porch or leaning against a fence, you start to listen instead of scanning. The dark removes visual distractions, leaving only sound to tell the story.
Those sounds carry information. Weather is changing. Animals are moving. Seasons are turning. Without realizing it, you begin to recognize patterns. You notice when the coyotes are quieter than usual, or when frogs call earlier than expected. The land speaks in small signals long before anything obvious happens.
Most of these sounds go unnoticed unless you stop and listen. They are not dramatic on their own. They do not demand attention. But together, they form the soundtrack of rural life after dark.
In a world that rarely slows down, nighttime in the country offers something increasingly rare. A chance to listen without interruption. To notice what has always been there. To understand that even when the lights are off and the work is done, the land never really rests.
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