CarpentersBluff

Welcome to Carpenter's Bluff

2007-06-24T14:47:00.000-05:00

Today Carpenter's Bluff Bridge connects Grayson County TX, with Bryan County Oklahoma.

Welcome to Carpenter's Bluff

In 1981 my maternal grandmother was very sick. At that time only one doctor in north Texas could treat her. It just so happened that the doctor was in Sherman, Texas. My mother and father decided to rent out our home in Wichita Falls and move with her. My grandmother found a house near the hospital and we found a small farm house in in the nearby countryside called Carpenter's Bluff

It was about twenty five miles to school and the bus ride took two hours to get to and from. We caught the bus at 6am and we made it home just shy of 5pm. My mom and dad worked from early morning to dusk. When we were home, we were right there with them. I milked the cow every day before school and worked with dad in the evening. I learned how to kill and clean fish, chickens, turkeys, and pheasants. We built chicken coops and a pig pen. In the early summer of '81 I learned how to castrate young pigs. I can still vividly recall the pungent odor.

My first horse was a young Appaloosa I named 'Apollo'. My grandma said he was the only thing on the farm greener than me. Right away, mom and dad used the opportunity to teach me how to castrate a horse. Mom said we had to, because she did not want him mating with her 'Paint' mare. "Besides," said mom, "It'll help calm him down so you can ride him".

"You are going to learn from him and he is going to learn from you", said my mom, a veteran farm girl. She chased me and that horse all over the stable yard. Every time he threw me mom grabbed him and held him, " Come on, get up and get back on!" She would yell. Mom had him by the halter when he raised up on his hind legs, dumped me on the ground, and pawed at her. She just pulled him back down and held him for me to get back on. Once again he raised up, this time I held on, but he caught mom with his hoof to the top of her head. It did not knock her down though. So while he was still in the air she tightened her fist and punched him right in the mouth. He dropped down on all fours, looked at her with a stunned look in his eyes. The two of them were instantly locked on to one another's gaze. Apolo looked down, nudged mom's arm as if to say he's sorry and mom caressed the side of his face. She gave him about ten feet of rope and began running him in a circle.

When Apollo and I were exhausted, mom said, " Ok, now we've got him where we want him." She grabbed a halter and lead rope and led us around and around in a slow walk. Then she led us out the gates and into the yard, where he could feed on the long Johnson grass. We took him to the back porch where my sister and brothers helped me wash and brush him. After we and Apolo had a good meal, Apollo stood by the gate and watched us while we worked in the garden. it was as if he felt more like a member of the family now, and not like a kept animal. I learned how to green rein him and soon, we were riding all over the stable yard.

A few weeks later I had saved up enough to get a bridle and bit. My grandfather bought me a used saddle and blanket, and I was all set. The only thing left was to acclimate him to the new digs and teach him how to obey signals. After an all day struggle to get him use to the gear, I was back on top. Mom rode her horse right next to me and held on to his lead rope. When I pulled the reins to the right, mom pulled him, and her horse 'Baby', to the right. She stopped them both when I pulled back on the reins. Soon, Apollo and I were accomplished riding partners.

A few months later mom bought a quarter horse from my uncle. Her name was 'Lady'. She was the daughter of the famed race horse 'Go Man Go'. She let me do all the work training Lady and soon my little sister was training her to be a cross country racehorse. Apollo and I spent many hours roaming the country side. We explored the woods behind our house and rode to the store for sugar, salt or what ever mom and dad needed. The bridge to Bryan County, Oklahoma was about three miles from our house on Farm Road 120. On the other side of the Red River was a little roadside store. There was a dance hall in the barn around back where everyone gathered on the weekends. Apollo and I would ride up nearly every day in the summer and soon made friends with the neighboring farmers. When my blossoming horse training skills were noticed, a man named Vernon Blackford agreed to pay me twenty dollars a week to come to his farm and help him break his ponies before he sold them. One week I made a deal with him to haul brush and dead trees off his property in exchange for a Shetland pony and a young goat. My younger brothers shared the pony and we all grew to have a 'love/hate' relationship with Billy the goat.

(Picture: Mom and Dad)

My family only lived in Carpenter's Bluff for a few years, but it was long enough to make an indelible impression on me. In Wichita Falls the ground is hard and mostly clay. The first time I road in the back of my dad's pickup truck and smelled the sweet air I felt at home. The soil was so soft you could stick your finger in it clear to the knuckle without effort. The grass smelled fresh and it was as if with every breath I was breathing life. We had only one TV channel and it did not seem to matter. Our time was spent outside, we ran and climbed, tended to animals and rode horses. We did'nt have much but what we had was enough.

(Picture: Me and My Cousin Jackie)

Today when I watch my children play, I feel like I am neglecting them. I would love to trade my son's GameBoy and Playstation for a hay loft in a barn, his bicycle and rechargeable Jeep for a horse and goat, and his Microwave diner for a home cooked chicken dinner with garden vegetables and drop biscuits with home made butter. I know my kids are ok and they have all they need, but there is just something to be said for the values of life a kid can only learn on farm.

This is the first post here at 'Carpenter's Bluff'. Unlike the content you will find at 'The Squamata Report', here you will find stories of family, local history, nature, farmlife, faith and light hearted stories of triumph and lessons learned. I built this site to give me a place to write about all the things that do not fit in the political environment of The Squamata Report. I hope you will check in from time to time.

God Bless!

Ugly Dogs

2007-06-23T17:23:00.000-05:00

Growing up in Carpenter's Bluff we had many dogs come and go. Most came up from the road where people had abandoned them. Some even came from the Red river just across the road.

One of these lost souls was a long haired poodle (no Picture available) named 'Matt'. He was called Matt because when he arrived he had mats of fur covering his whole body. My dad found him and after hours of carefully trimming the sometimes three inch thick mats, my father earned MVP status in the poor dogs eyes.

When we found Matt, with hair clumps causing massive sores, with stickers and even mesquite thorns sticking in him, he was possibly the ugliest dog I had seen, but with a little love and care he soon looked normal. Now I am not sure if he ever did this before my dad cared for him but from that day on, Matt literally skipped. Every where Dad went, Mat followed behind, skipping and hopping at his feet.

I was reminded about Matt when I looked through some of the 'Ugliest Dogs in the World' who compete monthly for a chance to be chosen Ugliest dog in the World!

In Matt's honor I thought I'd share a few of the contestants with you.

Enjoy!

Breitbart

PETALUMA, Calif. (AP) - Elwood, a 2-year-old Chinese Crested and Chihuahua mix, was crowned the world's ugliest dog Friday, a distinction that delighted the New Jersey mutt's owners.
Elwood, dark colored and hairless—save for a mohawk-like puff of white fur on his head—is often referred to as "Yoda," or "ET," for his resemblance to those famous science fiction characters.
"I think he's the cutest thing that ever lived," said Elwood's owner, Karen Quigley.

"The breeder was going to euthanize him because she thought he was too ugly to sell," said Quigley.
"So ha ha, now Elwood's all over the Internet and people love him and adore him."
Beyond the regal title of ugliest dog, Elwood also earned a $1,000 reward for his owner.

Cheyenne

2007-04-14T22:17:00.000-05:00

An Old Man and His Dog

"Watch out!

You nearly broadsided that car!" My father yelled at me. "Can't
you do anything right?" Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head
toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A
lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another
battle.

"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was
measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt. Dad glared at
me, then turned away and settled back.At home I left Dad in front of the
television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung
in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo
my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being
outdoors and reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature.
He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often.
The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy
log, he joked about it; but later that same day I say him outside alone,
straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about
his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger
man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An
ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to
keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed in to an
operating room. He was lucky -- he survived.But something inside Dad died.
His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders.
Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults.
The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm.
We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.
Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing
was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did.I became frustrated and moody.
Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue.
Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman
set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he
prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.
But the months wore in and God was silent.

A raindrop struck my cheek. I looked up into the gray sky. Somewhere up
there was "God." Although I believed a Supreme Being had created the
universe, I had difficulty believing that God cared about the tiny human
being on this earth. I was tired of waiting for a God who didn't answer.
Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat
down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health
clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the
sympathetic voices that answered. In vain. Just when I was giving up hope,
one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help
you! Let me get the article." I listened as she read. The article described
a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under
treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved
dramatically when they were giving responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire,
a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of the disinfectant stung
my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven
dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs
-- all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after
the other for various reasons -- too big, too small, too much hair.

As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to
his feed, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one
of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed.
Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones
jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held
my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then
shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and
sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right
down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time
is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going
to kill him?" "Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have the
room for every unclaimed dog." I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown
eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.

I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the
house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when
Dad shuffled onto the front porch. "Ta-da! Look what I got for you Dad" I
said excitedly.
Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I
would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than
that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it!" Dad waved his arms scornfully
and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded
into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad, He's staying!" Dad
ignored me. "Did you hear me, old man?" I screamed.At those words Dad
whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and
blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when
suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad
and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion
replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was
on his knees hugging the animal. It was the beginning of a warm and intimate
friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne
explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They
spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout.

They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew
and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable
for the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made
many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold
nose burrowing through the covers. He had never before come into our bedroom
at night.

I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed,
his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying
dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on.
As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog
for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.

The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like
the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle of the pews reserved
for the family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had
made filling the church.

The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who
had changed his life. For me, the past dropped into place, completing a
puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read
the right article... Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter...
his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father... and the proximity
of their deaths.

And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.

-- by Catherine Moore

Texas Country Reporter @ CB

2007-02-06T21:27:00.000-06:00

The Amazing Skidboot

You must see this Austrailian Cowdog. Don't forget to comment below.

Texas Country Reporter @ CB

2007-02-04T13:33:00.000-06:00

The Garlic Man

Reminds me of the time we spent working in the garden at home in Carpenter's Bluff.

There's something about living ' in the middle of nowhere' as Bob Phillips said. You can grow the same stuff in your backyard in town, but it is just not the same.

Chicken Fried Bacon

2007-02-03T10:54:00.000-06:00

I only wish my mom and my grandparents from Carpenter's Bluff could have tried these. I know it would have been an instant hit.

September Eleventh

2006-09-11T13:55:00.000-05:00

Happy Anniversary

Eight years ago today, a major event took place in my life.
I was married to a wonderful woman named Angela.

She and I were working at a department store in 1996, she was a cashier and I was working in hardware. I went through the line one day to buy something and noticed her big deer like eyes. Being a lonely single father in a new state (Oklahoma) I was more than anxious to get to know her. In about a year, we moved back to Texas and a year later in 1998 we lost a baby and I almost lost her. We weathered the storm of sadness and stayed together through the horror of loving and planning for a child we never got to meet. She had one of her tubes removed and the Dr. said due to scarring in the remaining one, a future viable pregnancy was unlikely. We were married later that same year.

In 1999 God blessed us with a wonderful little boy named Daniel. She was not suppose to be able to give birth. Yet in five years she gave birth again to a little girl. Since Daniel and Emily were born healthy, we do not believe in the wisdom of man when it comes to our family.....we listen to God and trust him, not to keep us from harm, but to keep us through it.

I love you Angela. Thanks for being my wife and making life more....livable.

My Princess is two years old today

2006-06-20T07:18:00.000-05:00

Emily Anne Putnam
Two years ago today an angel came in to my life.
My wife and I have always wanted a little girl.
My mother predicted that we would have such a blessing.
Three years after her death, her prediction came true. When we found out we were having a girl we were shocked and elated. I was so nervous the day she was born. When I watched her take her first breath, I lost mine. My heart started racing and I thought I might be too wobbly to hold her. But when the time came, I was steady as a rock.
When I held her I just knew I was holding the future queen of the world. I have never been more proud, and I have never felt so lucky.

Last year I posted pictures of her on her 1st birthday. Her red dress was so pretty. It was likely the cutest and most precious picture I have ever seen. I was possitive that this picture could never be out-done. I was wrong. I now am quite the fan of her more recent Easter photos. It just goes to show that she gets more beautiful and precious as the days go by! Perhaps I am biased, but I am certainly proud.

Dog Wisperer

2006-01-20T21:46:00.000-06:00

I am the world's biggest Dennis Prager fan. He is a conservative radio talkshow host. However, he's a man who talks about and explores every issue of life. Recently he did an interview with Cesar Millan the world famous dog expert. I love Cesar's show. It is a very intelligent and informative program. Prager did an interview with him earlier this year. The show touched him so much, he did what he rarely does.... had him on a second time!

After hearing it tonight I decided to share it with you. Click on any of the pictures in this email to visit Millan's website.

Most importantly click Dennis Prager picture below and listen to the interview.

Enjoy!!