Blog Crisis Alert

Have I been a bad blogger lately?

I know that I am guilty of being MIA more often than usual (for me)

from this blog and the comments section of others too.

Apologies. I have been a little preoccupied.

It's not that nothing is happing.

The action HAS been kinda frantic...

Both with non-blog related (and non-bloggable) activities,

AND behind-the-scenes things here too.

I have been re-thinking things a lot.

Wondering if I am getting a bit 'stale 'here.

Wondering if I need to shake things up.

The thought has occured to me that I should stop for a while?

Or maybe attack things from a different angle.

Or something.

Perhaps stepping back a little will help.

Getting a different perspective.

Perhaps it's just time for a little contest to spark things up?

Or something.

Changes.

~

Would you like to see a change here?

Have you changed things lately?

How did that go for you?

Is it REALLY as good as a holiday?

Share some wisdom or wit!

(Lord knows I seem to have misplaced mine)

:-)

BB

Cute Capers - a Trilogy

Whenever there is a gathering around these parts,

my camera lense is (naturally) drawn to the kids.

~~~

Sweet,

unselfconscious,

smiling,

sullen,

silly,

madcap,

darling.

~~~
Take the last two weekends.

It was horsey action all round - campdrafting and rodeo.

But really, the stars of the action were the ankle-biters.

I'll break it up into three parts...

Shall we check it out?

~~~

Cute Caper ONE - Toe to Top

Oh, how Cute are these Boots?

Snapped whilst their owner was banging the heels against the mesh of the grandstand.

Violet would ADORE these.

She already has purple elastic-sided boots though (pics to come)

so her Mum cannot justify adding these to the collection.
Speaking of my colourful daughter...

Nice red hat, dear!

And those very blonde plaits... hang on.

That headwear looks suspiciously like something out of our Christmas box in the store room... hmmmm. She is nothing if not ORIGINAL in her fashion sense!
~~~

Cute Caper TWO - Camera-less Cute-ness

Amid the craziness of a certain 24 hour period

(that involved almost 1000 km in driving time and checking out this chick)

I decided to leave the camera at home for one event.

Just one.

The night-time rodeo (at which our P&C were catering, so I figured I'd be busy).

I should have known that the MOMENT I put that Nikon down,

Cute (with a big C) would break out left, right and centre...

And it did.

I will attempt to describe events in my usual stacatto shorthand way.

Bear with me.

~~~

Kids were lined up, bug-eyed at the two metre high fence

watching grown-up cowboys showin' 'em how it's done.

Steer ridin'. Bull ridin'. Limbs flying everywhere.

Dirt bein' eaten.

(And 'g's being dropped all over the place).

Then as the riders dusted themselves off and geared up for the finals,

the announcer called for the littlest cowboys to line up outside the chutes.

I completely panicked when I heard Dash's name called out,

dropped the burger I was serving and galloped (okay, hobbled fast)

to find out what the heck was going on!

I found half of Dash's tiny school also lined up.

I listened, slightly terrified, to the challenge.

Their task?

To BE the best bucking bull they can be.

One by one, these little men got down in the dirt on all fours,

and bucked their little hearts out.

For eight seconds apiece, they were rearing and kicking up,

wheeling and snorting...

I cannot begin to tell you how funny it was...

I had tears running down my face.

I had that kind of painful silent laughter thing happening.

Then they had a buck off.

Because 80 seconds of kids-being-bulls is clearly not enough.

And again, there was furious writhing and heart-stopping hand-standing action.

More gasping giggles.

The judge stonewalled and the audience was given the final say...

And the winner was....

DASH!

(by a very dizzy head).

There IS footage somewhere.

I am hoping to get my hands on it...

~~~

Cute Caper THREE - Big Ben
And I have to finish with one of Dash's competitors in the campdraft (last weekend).

And the cute factor of THIS one?

Off the freaking scale, peoples.

You ready?

Brace yourself...

~~~

This little guy is three or four years old

in the camp yard with his Mum

(who rode out beside him but NOT leading him)

riding Ben the Clydesdale...

Oh Lord.

If you look closely that kid is so little he could walk right under that horse.

A pimple on a pumpkin, as Dad would say.

It made me all hormonal and a wee bit weepy for some reason.

So they shoo their cow to the front of the yard, called for the gate,

And off... the little cowboy and Big Ben bobbing along gently together.

After a somewhat bemused cow...

and around the first peg.

Oh, there was cheering.

It was loud and it was long.

Much, much more raucous than for winner of the major draft.

People were lined up two deep at the rails and yelling.

Who could possibly compete with THAT level of cute?

~~~
How you going?

Teeth fallen out from all the sweet cuteness yet?

Got a favourite kid yarn?

Please share in comments - links welcomed too...

Behind the camp

Guess where I am this weekend?

Know what season it is?

If you've been hanging around here lately

you'd be aware that it is CAMPDRAFTING season.

(Here is the explanatory link again for newbies).

~~~

So tonight I am at home, feeding and hosing down animals and kids

while Mr Incredible camps out in the truck at a showgrounds with his

campdraft horses (and Lacey) about 45 minutes drive away.

And seeing as how I still have a gazillion unused images from last weekend,

thought I'd do a quick share of some behind-the-scenes action (up-front action here).

~~~

Here is the loot the competitors were vying for last weekend...

Now THIS is the kind of self-portrait I am comfortable with...

Riders always warm up their horses before they are due to compete...

...like any athlete, they need to have muscles warmed and attitude right

before they can perform at their best.

(Recognise anyone in the background here?)

Then they line up with other waiting competitors beside the 'camp',

where the mob of cattle is held from which they select their 'beast'.

(Is it just me, or would my friend Jenny have had a field day

with the terms used in this sport?)

They also use this time to check out the cattle sent into the camp,

to see if they can pick a 'good one' before it's their turn.

(This is a real skill, as 'bad ones' look very similar to me!)

Then your name is called, your heart starts to beat just that little bit faster, and it's time to gather up and get into action...

Breathing slow and focussing on the task at hand...

And keeping that cow/steer from getting back into the mob...

Then erupting from the small yard and OUT...

Legs all a-blur but seats steady and still....

As rider and steed attempt to keep their bovine 'on course'...

Flying changes and gallopinog manoevres sending all threeweaving through the 'pegs'...

Of course, not everyone has great runs.

And not everyone has high-scoring weekends in this sport.

It can be a bit brutal, actually, when things don't go as planned.

Mr Incredible was disappointed after his run last weekend - can you tell?

Luckily it's an addictive sport so even unrewarding weekends are soon forgotten...

and you saddle up and head back into the dust for another round!

Wish him luck tomorrow, y'all!

Some friends of mine...

Our local campdraft last weekend was a hectic, happening affair -

with lots of action in the centre ring and plenty of activity in the grandstands too.

Events like this provide the chance for socialising that can be rare in rural areas.

Oh sure, we may run into people we know at the local supermarket,

or see them in passing on the road, or at someone's birthday party.

But an event like this brings people of like minds together.

~

And the delightful thing for me,

having lived in the city for so very long

(and sometimes not even knowing my neighbours' names)

is that almost EVERYWHERE I look at a local draft,

I know someone.

This shot, for instance, contains the rear views of my father,

some of his campdrafting co-horts from the 'good old days'

(who still give me a ribbing about my few - unsuccessful - campdrafting efforts)

and there are a smattering of friends there too.

~

This chick went to school with Mr Incredible,

...and her family and mine pretty much grew up together.

We may (or may not) have yakked for about an hour in the stands later on...

we only had about 25 years to catch up on!

~

This is her brother, and also the President of the local campdraft committee.

He was one busy bloke over the weekend -

what with riding, supplying cattle AND organising the three day event.

We like to call him 'Mr President' just to annoy him!

~

And this is his gorgeous wife, waiting her turn in the yard.

She's not so much the First Lady,

as Madam Secretary (of the same committee)

and one of the best female riders I have ever seen.

Pretty. And quite fierce. At least on a horse.

Heh.
~
This is our local butcher.

Unlike some who were literally born to draft, he took up campdrafting as an adult

and is really starting to hit his straps.

He won the Maiden on Friday...

(which sounds much more romantic than

being 'the best cow chaser around a mowed paddock'!)
His partner is one of my oldest friends (and a long-time lurker here).

We could NOT be prouder of him.
~

This is the Dad of one of Dash's school buddies.

He is a terrific horseman and trainer.

Plus he's a totally nice guy - and not bad as a long jump steward either.

~

And of course, there was Dash and Violet's cousin doing her thing

in HER very first campdraft...

You GO girl!!!

(Loving the matching shirt and saddlecloth, BTW)

So you see...

Not only am I exhausted from taking a bazillion photos (no exaggeration) and encouraging my hubby in his drafting endeavours, as well as cheering on our son in his first very draft, plus attempting to ensure my children don't invade every gooseneck horse trailer on the grounds (when I am not looking) and keep up the supply of chocolate ice-creams and meat pies (when I am)...

I have been TALKING.

Talking up a storm.

Catching up with friends.

And wearing my larynx out in the process.

I have another event mid-week* which will no doubt place

some stress on my vocal chords too.

Thank goodness the mountains of laundry before me don't require me to vocal input.

'Cause there's another one of these campdraft things on NEXT weekend.

~

*it's a secret event, but trust me, there will be a blog post about it.. if I survive!

Change of expression

Something pretty amazing happened today.

We have been having a massive campdrafting weekend,

with Cyclone Ului being polite and staying at bay (although the skies are quite grey).

There has been some AMAZING action which I will share when I get a spare hour or so to sift through the memory cards chock full of images.

But I had to dig out a couple of shots tonight to share.

Cause something pretty darned amazing took place at the local showgrounds.

~

It happened between two expressions.

The first one looked like this:

And then this happened.

Then this...

Then this...

And then he was OUT in the arena...

(Holy Heck, hang on boy!)

And presenting...

Expression Number Two.

He's saying: Did I score more than you, Dad?

~

To explain more fully...

Dash went in his very first campdraft today!

At the ripe old age of seven (nearly eight) he plucked up the courage (with the help of some cousins) to enter in the 'Junior' draft. Kids under the age of 13 get just one beast (cow) in the yard (as opposed to a small mob for all other drafts) and take it out of the yard and around the course as best they can. They pretty much cannot get 'cracked off' (dismissed by the judge) and just do they best they can in 40 seconds.

It's a riot.

Seriously, more spectators stop and watch this draft

and cheer with more gusto than any other division!

Dash vaccillated between wanting to have a go, and being too nervous and unsure of what he was supposed to do. Before entering the 'camp' he confessed to feeling 'a bit sick'.

There should be more photos of Dash outside in the big arena

but I confess I was yelling and carrying on too much to really focus. Or click.

~

More pics of cuteness to come,

but I am so bustin' out with pride at my

sometimes-nervy little man having a red hot go,

that I just had to share....

This weekend...

Depending on the mood of that lil ol storm cell

just off the Queensland coast

who we like to call Cyclone Ului,
this weekend should be filled with a whole lot of this...

and this...


And a spot of this...

I'll be keeping my eye out for talent like this...

and enjoying some equine talent like this...

My Nikon will be busy capturing random images like this...

...or this...

...or I'll be taking random images of others catching random images..

Of course, we could all get flooded in too.

Either way... I don't mind.

~

How 'bout you?
What does your weekend hold in store?

And will the weather be an issue for your plans?

Weather watch and a naughty old man

Can I please have a pat on the back?

I have FINALLY remembered to post Weather Watch Wednesday on...

wait for it...

a WEDNESDAY.

I know.

*curtsies*

Thankyou, thank you all.

.

It's perfect weather here today - just 27 degrees Celsius (80 F) in my kitchen.

Looking out the (smudged)window to my part of the world, I see green grass.

I see ruffling leaves dancing in a strong breeze.

I see low grey clouds buffeting each other trying to cover up the small patches of blue.

I see the contented grazing of horses and cows, their bellies full and tails happily flicking at flies. It's the exact picture every person who lives with grazing animals EVER wants to see.

*sigh*

Granite Glen Forecast :

Temps: 18-28 C (64-82F)

Frost risk: NIL

(never fails to tickle me that this measure even makes it to our Summer/Autumn forecasts!)

Chance of rain: 90% of up to 100mm for this weekend

Actually a CYCLONE is allegedly headed this way.

~

So anyway, the second part of this post IS related to the first.

Even if it doesn't immediately seem that way.

Please meet Cattleman.

Cattleman is a horse.

But he is not just any horse.

He is a human in horse's clothing. (Or hide. Whatever.)

Cattleman is my father's steed and is an ex-campdraft horse.

He is not young - probably about 20 years old - and man, is he crafty.

He is an equine Walter Matthau. Or Jack Palance's character in City Slickers (Curly?)

Here he is, having let all the horses into the pool yard.
Yes, the horse can open gates.

These photos were taken after he had already opened THREE other gates (with varying catches) to completely mix up every horse we have here at the Granite Glen house.
And THAT was within the two hours he had been home, after being shifted in from a 'spelling' paddock which only has barbed wire gates (which I can barely manage and which he has yet to work out). And no, spelling doesn't mean where horses learn their ABC's.

It's where they get rested.

Or banished (when they are more trouble than help).

Mind you, this horse is so smart he can probably do algebra.

Can you notice that he is watching me while pretending to graze?

Want to know what he's thinking?

His thought bubbles should read like this:

"Right, we've been caught.

And she's about to chase us out from this luscious forbidden area.

How can I trick her into letting me stay?"

(And he totally had about three strategies planned out).

.

And when I eventually got them all out into the paddock, he's thinking:

"Okay I shall now chase everyone away from the forbidden area,

to make it look like it was NOT my idea to be here in the first place."

"See? Butter WOULD NOT melt in my mouth.

Is my halo in place?"

.

If he wasn't so naughty he'd be quite funny and cute.

But Cattleman doesn't do cute.

And he doesn't do 'cuddly' either.

Oh sure, he'll let you feed him and even rug him, but the moment you are done he has moved JUST beyond reach. Watching you. If he doesn't feel like being bridled and saddled, it can take you half an hour to outsmart him.

.

He's really the horse version of a cat.

Feed me.

Admire me.

Pat me if you must.

Even though he hasn't competed in a campdraft (basic description here for newcomers) for many years, he is agile and can hunt down a beast (steer) like an equine predator. And if his rider isn't ready for the sharp turn required to send the beast where Cattleman decides it needs to go... then HELLO ground! And you could find yourself looking up from the dirt, at a chestnut horse positively LAUGHING at you.

Not that I would know what that feels like. Much.

Mr Incredible would love to get Cattleman out of the Spelling Paddock (where he has once again been banished) to take him in a draft. The campdraft season, you see, is underway. Or it would be, if the rains would stop.

It's a dilemma for my hubby - welcome more rain and have yet another local campdraft cancelled (two have already been called off)? Or wish it away and watch another drought devour the gorgeous green from our hills?

Catch 22.

Whether the forecast comes to fruition for this weekend's local draft or not, all I know is that Cattleman the Cunning will be ready. As long as we can catch him.

And as long as he doesn't work out the gates.