Today, for most of the day, I chased cows. I separated them, ran them down, pushed them into a chute. My dad, Eric, and I were joined by my mom's cousin Lloyd (whose cows they were), a random person named Richard, and John Mathis; from the State House of Representatives. He's a good vet, an okay politician, and a terrible farmer, but that's beside the point. The snow gets cold as you constantly stand in it and the weather here isn't that helpful either, since the Uintah Basin is generally the coldest place in Utah and Gusher is usually the coldest place in the Basin. But this is my home. Manure was frozen to my boots, the dog was chasing the cows in the wrong direction, and my dad has a constant yell of, "Hurry up boys!" and "Get 'im!" in this situation. None of this phased me much though, since it is something that has been a part of my life since birth. This little farm contains a piece of me that is omnipresent in my character, whether subconsciously or not.
Tonight the horses got out of the gate after all that other fun work with the cows was done. This is a constant danger when working with animals: they're always looking to escape so that they can be caught again. After chasing the three of them for about an hour, we caught two of them and the other almost trampled my sister in his escape. With a few U-turns and Utah swear words, I headed up past my grandpa's to yet again chase this elusive horse. I parked and tromped through the crunchy snow, finding him whinnying frustratedly as he couldn't reach his compadres that were my grandpa's horses on the other side of the fence. I slowly wrapped the bailing twine around my glove as I walked and let go of my previous annoyance with a smile. I decided to not outrun him, for he is a horse which equals the speed and power of one horsepower, but rather to befriend him. I made him jealous at first, showing the other horses all the affection by scratching their ears and chins as they timidly wobble their heads into my hands. Not wanting to miss out on this action, our lone, adventurous horse sheepishly comes forward to the hands that have fed him over this break. I slowly put the string around his neck and smile at my animal friend and the success. Patience and kindness beat out anxiety and aggression.
Last night I sat on a hay bail as I loaded the feed to take a break. The sun was setting with all the majestic purples, oranges, and blues that it entails. The horses were silhouetted by a lake of pure, undefiled snow in the hay field behind them. And a few blue birds came from nowhere to sit atop a weed coming out from under the shed; standing in stark contrast to the circumstance of weather, yet nonetheless adding to the overall beauty of the scene. And from all this I thought, "God really loves me. I'm lucky to grow up here." It's true as true. Why are these stories relevant? Because of what I already wrote. This is home. This is what I stemmed from. For all its quirks and idiosyncrasies, Gusher is my home. The lessons it holds are endless, and the grace it lends, if it has any, is consistency. I love it. It is one of the most beautiful places on Earth; but methinks it takes someone who grew up here to truly appreciate it.
