A DOG NAMED SATURDAY Coloring Book.

Howdy Friends! Fun news! Our A DOG NAMED SATURDAY coloring book is complete. We have ordered proofs. And VERY SOON it will be ready for all friends of Saturday, and happy children everywhere. As Saturday says, "The best thing about happy is everybody can have some." ~ Gitty Up, Dutch.

P.S. Check out my Amazon Author's page to see all my books, and find A DOG NAMED SATURDAY coloring book. http://amzn.to/2GuEjpz

 

#adognamedsaturday #dutchhenry

"Coffee Clutch is back!"

Howdy Friends! – Coffee Clutch is back! – Today is the first day Coffee Clutch is officially back since my heart attack, surgery and recovery! And the Hummingbirds knew it and welcomed me with much fanfare, buzzing and squeaking all around the feeder just outside Kessy's bedroom. It felt so good to once again settle in my old chair next to the finest mare I've ever known, sip a little steaming Folgers (decafe) in my brand spankin' new Coffee Clutch mug sent me by our friend Darlene Hohensee (Thanks Darlene) and listen to her munch away. My new mug has a picture of our Coffee Clutch and my name!

First Official Coffee Clutch Day Back - With my new Coffee Clutch Mug -

Oh sure I've been out in the barn spending time with Kessy, brushing her and following Ravishin' Robbie as she does all the chores, for weeks already, even sat with Kessy in the barn and woods. But morning Coffee Clutch is a special time I've missed so dearly. Our barn is tucked in the woods bringing birds so close as they dine with the chickens at the cracked corn scatterings. Cardinals, Towhees, Chickadees, Titmice, and other seed eating birds swoop in to hop about and eat, and the chickens never mind their company. Most mornings the wild birds stay longer than the chickens!

This morning was a very active bird morning from hummers buzzing their feeder, to everyone at the cracked corn and treetops filled with Robins trilling, a Scarlet Tanager, and in the distance even a Wood Thrush joined in while a Bluebird sat high in a tulip tree letting go his sweet notes to float down to me.

Since walking every day is part of my morning routine now, and forever they tell me, I had to make an adjustment to my routine. Gotta get up earlier! Sometime just before six I roll from under the covers, head out and walk first lick. It's good right now to beat the heat and bugs at that time anyway. Our grassy trail through the woods is just over a half mile, which I now walk in 25 minutes. The bird watching is top notch there too, and I'd probably walk it faster if I didn't stop so often to search the treetops and underbrush.

Ravishin' Robbie, Saturday and I walk our "Recovery Trail" together then go to the barn. I'm helping a bit with the chores now, the easy light stuff like Kessy's soaked Timothy cubes (Kessy's on an all forage diet) and the chicken scratch. Walking and chores finished, I settle in my chair next to Kessy, and pour a cup (I'm only doing one cup now instead of a pot), and enjoy the start of another beautiful morning. It's so wonderful to be back where I belong!

God Bless, Thank you all for your prayers, love, cards, letters, and support! … Have a beautiful day, and life ~

Gitty Up, 

Dutch Henry

"Ride Through The Rough Patches"

Howdy Folks,

He stopped under the oak on his way to the barn, looked out to his mare, and whistled. She raised her head, then after a pause, came to his side. Draping his arm over her neck he let her bear his weight. They stood a moment, him leaning on her, she accepting the weight. She was a good mare, always seemed to know when to corral her attitude and just be a friend. She did that today.

Rough patches are a part of life. Someone once said it's the rough patches that make the rest of life shine. Rough patches come sometimes out of the blue. Other times a body can see them coming, but when they get here they're just as rough as any other kind. Losing a friend, sometimes you can see that coming, and he had, for a while now. But now that it happened the time hadn't really done much to ready his heart for the heaviness. Walking back from the grave was when the real finality set in.

Not much to do about it. Just have to move on, get along with things, they say. Recently there had been too many, losing friends, rough patches. They all feel the same, so dammed final. Some friends are closer than others, and those make the widest rough patch. This was a wide one.

Without lifting his arm, he started for the barn. The mare knew to follow. Holding her head low she took his weight and stopped when he did, at the tack door. He wasn't much in the mood for all the preliminaries, so he brushed only where the blanket fit, slid on her halter, tossed up the saddle and swung right up in the barn, then rode out the door. His dog trotted behind.

He didn't ask for anything, just a slow steady walk, hadn't even bothered with reins, today just the rope would do. His mare knew what to do. She knew the trails. He could just sit, think about their old friend and ride through the rough patch.

His plan was to let his mare do the heavy lifting, he would simply sit and think. Part of the strategy of riding through a rough patch was doing nothing. Let the horse do the work while he contemplated then, as the familiar gait softened his hard heart, he could begin to see the beauty in the world around them. The mare knew her duty, accepted it and without a single misstep did it. 

The sun warmed their backs as they moved slowly along the wooded trail. Before long he realized there were a great many butterflies about that spring afternoon. The mare walked softly onward, and before he realized it he found himself looking for butterflies. They were everywhere, on the wildflowers, the tree branches, the greening grass, even the mud along the trail. He lost count in the thirties.

Watching butterflies he decided to hunt wildflowers too. The best place for wildflowers was a small ravine by the big stream, but that meant a mighty steep decline. It was this time last year they were searching for the same wildflowers and he knew his mare would remember the tricky path, and she did.

Their walk, with a little slide mixed in, was rewarded with a grand bouquet of wild flowers. Some dozen varieties grow in this little lost haven, some in bloom, some not quite ready yet, but all splendid. It was here they enjoyed the best bird watching of the rough patch ride too. By now his heart was a little lighter, and it was time to head back. First they had that steep hill to negotiate, and his mare took it in stride, as was her duty this day.

Back on the safe trail though, something must have told her he'd shed some of his heavy heart, and she decided she'd earned a bit of a heel kicking romp. She tested his resolve with a quick head tossing flatwalk, then without waiting for a cue, or permission, shifted seamlessly to a slow canter. Her silliness painted his first smile on his face. He wondered after the initial crowhop if she was truly trying to make him laugh, which he did, or just flat being naughty. He thought reins would be nice right about now … Then let go a hearty laugh and turned her loose.

When life plants rough patches in your way, lean on a friend and ride right through it.

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

"Tigger, A Dear Friend"

Howdy Folks,

 

We lost a dear friend and avid Coffee Clutcher yesterday ... Our sweet little Tigger crossed the rainbow bridge to frolic with her pal Sweetness.

 

Tigger and Sweetness loved laying on our bed together ...

Tigger loved the Coffee Clutch! Most mornings she'd beat me to the barn and either march about telling me it's time to sit with Kessy, or hop into my chair ahead of me and anxiously demand, with her squeaky meow, I sit. Once I'd settled she'd curl up tight on my lap. Only the coldest mornings found her unwilling to join us for our morning routine … For about the past month she'd been too weak to be part of the Coffee Clutch most mornings, then last week she began scarcely leaving the house. She did wander out on the warmest afternoons to lay with Kessy at her hay, she loved doing that, and Kessy loved it too.

Tigger was a Charter Member of The Coffee Clutch ...

Our daughter, Abbie, found Tigger roaming the streets of State College, PA a few days before graduating Penn State in '98. Knowing the tiny kitten had nowhere to go, she brought her along home. Abbie moved on to her first big gig pretty quickly, Tigger stayed with Ravishin' Robbie and me. I named her Tigger, because we almost always name our cats after Winnie The Pooh … and because she surely could bounce! And if you're a Pooh fan too, you know, "That's what Tiggers do!"

Ravishin' Robbie and Tigger were particularly close, and for many years Tigger seemed glued to her. Didn't matter much what Robbie was doing, Tigger would be there snuggling and supervising, either laying on her keyboard in the office, or on her kneepad in the garden. Ravishin' Robbie loves her walks in the woods, and Tigger never missed one of them. Some days they'd be gone for hours.

Over the years Tigger helped welcome and make feel at home several cats, dogs and horses. Her best friend for over ten years was Sweetness; who also came to us homeless. To some degree Sweetness stole Tigger from Robbie! Those two ate together, slept together and surely roamed the world together. Sometimes watching Tigger and Sweetness trot off into the woods made me think of the movie, "Homeward Bound." … The day we laid Sweetness to rest, Tigger came and sat with us as we wept.

Saturday and Tigger sunning together - just outside of this picture is Kessy, sunning with them ..

Tigger, like Saturday, adopted Kessy too. The three of them made quite the "2 acre wood roaming team." And Tigger not only loved our Coffee Clutch, but loved hanging out with Kessy. She'd lie on Kessy's hay inviting Kessy to eat around her. She'd rub on Kessy's face as Kessy munched her hay, and rub on her legs too. That bond got increasingly tight after Sweetness crossed the Rainbow Bridge last year. If we wanted to find Tigger, we looked for Kessy!

Kessy and Tigger taking in the sun together ...

Tigger loved evening TV time as much as I do, too. But for this Ravishin' Robbie was her first choice – whenever Robbie sat still enough for Tigger to settle in ... You know Robbie, always doing something!

 

Tigger always had a flare for adventure ... Here we are, (a lot of years ago,) when Tigger was first learning to ride, River, my strawberry roan TWH, who carried me the last years of my endurance riding adventures. Tigger did manage to master the saddle seat on the lunge line. I thought she sat River better than me!

We laid Tigger with Sweetness last evening, together they will romp the fields and woods again.

Ah, Tigger, you've been a great friend, brought us many smiles, warm laps – and leave us with sad hearts, but buckets of memories, too. Kessy will think of you as she munches hay and basks in the sun. Saturday and Miss Kitty will do their best to fill in taking care of Kessy and managing Coffee Clutch … Robbie will miss your gardening advice and walks ... It will be a long time before Coffee Clutch feels normal again ... Bless you, Tigger and say howdy to Sweetness for us.

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

"We'll Sort This Out – Pt 4"

Howdy Folks,

 

I wrote a short story, for our Coffee Clutch friends, "We'll Sort This Out" about a boy fleeing a bad home situation set back in homestead times – You can find that story (HERE) – Off and on I've gotten requests to continue the story. Then I wrote Part 2 (HERE).  And Part 3 (HERE) Because of requests to keep the story going and I've decided to turn it into a serial like stories in old time magazines – I hope you enjoy Part 4. – We left Frank and the boy as they were just about to ride up on his homestead.

Kessy, Saturday & me writing a story

 We'll Sort This Out – Pt4

"My name's Mark." The boy hurried Blackie to catch up to Frank.

"What's that?" Frank slowed his horse and twisted in the saddle.

"My name's Mark. And he ain't our father."

Frank stopped his horse and reached over to take Blackie's reins. Mark felt his eyes trying to pull answers from him. "He's not your father? … Who is he? Maybe you'd better fill me in a bit more before we get there. Just over that knob is the house."

The boy knew where he was. He'd hidden behind this very hill many times to avoid the man's fury. He and his sister had huddled here often. They knew every tree, every rock and crevice on the slope. He'd been hoping they would find her here this morning. His worried young eyes had already scoured all their hiding places. It had been their plan, if they ever got separated, they would meet here. That had been their plan, until a day ago when the man had discovered them, and beat them both, again.

"No he's … nobody … " Tears streaked the boys face, his tiny body trembled. He looked deep into Frank's eyes. "He just took us. My sister and me, we were living with our momma." He broke a small smile. "We had a farm, like yours." Tears started again. "Then he just came, pretended to be our friend. After a few days, he beat our momma, and he just took us."

Frank swung from his horse, wrapped his arms around the boy, hugged him hard.

"We were here hiding here in our safe place, waiting for him to go away. I was gonna sneak to the house for supplies, then we were going to run away … but he found us. He knocked me down, then turned on my sister … She told me to run, Frank … She hollered for me to get away." Sobs broke his voice. "I ran to your barn … but I should never have left her."

Frank jerked his rifle from the scabbard, swung up on his horse, "You stay here!" Then started over the hill. At the crest, he stopped.

The boy rode to his side, his blank eyes surveyed what lay before them. A thick cloud of black smoke hung low over the ruble that had been the cabin. Their cow lay dead in the yard. The barn doors hung open. Without waiting for Frank he grabbed the horn and kicked Blackie to a run. He heard Frank order him to stop as he raced down the hill, but kicked Blackie on. Frank caught him, jerked the reins from his hands, then with his rifle at the ready, led them to the barn.

Together they searched the barn and found it empty. But in the mud just outside the doors were tell tale wheel ruts and tracks from a pair of horses. His sister's bonnet lay mashed in the mud.

They searched the tall grass in the fields around the barn. Mark knew all their hiding places. She was in none of them. No signs she had time to leave any messages either. Sometimes they'd left messages when hiding separately, a broken branch meant look for me in the barn, tiny twisted grass bundles meant I'm hiding behind the big oak. Today there were no messages.

Nothing could be made of the smoldering cabin. The boy was glad Frank told him to hold the horses and wait while he searched the black, smoking wood a piles of smelly junk. His heart pounded, his breath came in gasps as stood dazed, waiting to be assured his sister was not … 

"He must have taken your sister with him. From the looks of all this he came back, set the place on fire and left right after he came looking for you."

The boy's eyes spoke for him. No sounds could come from his throat. His sister. She would be terrified now, without him there to protect her. Why did he run and leave her behind? Why didn't he tell Frank and Martha everything right away? How could he have slept a night safe in their cabin, leaving her with him?

"Yes we'll set out after him. We'll find them and get your sister. But first, we've got to get back, make sure Martha's okay." Frank's eyes washed with sudden worry. They set out with all the speed the horses had.

***********************

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry