When I was 13 years old, and having a girlish love of horses,I wanted a pair of black cowboy boots with fancy stitches on the tops.My Dad was not well and had to quit working as a logger in Oregon.Money was in short supply. My Dad and I made a deal, if I could peel enough chittem bark to make money to put towards my new boots,he would take me to Salem, the biggest town near my home and we would buy my new boots! I really didnt mind peeling chittem bark, fighting the gnats and flies was the most irritating part of the job, I actually enjoyed climbing and peeling the tree, especially rewarding when large 1 to 2 foot strips would slip off. Drying the bark took some time , more so when we would get a week of rain common for Oregon coast weather.After weeks of peeling, drying ,chopping then bagging the chittem in gunny sacks, I sold my chittem at the local Mom&Pop country store. Skipping happily home with money in hand, most likely a whole 15 to 20 dollars.Waving my money at Dad grinning from ear to ear, begging for him to tell me if I had enough money and when could we go to the big town for my new boots?When all things fell into place Dad took me to Salem and found my new black cowboy boots with fancy stitches! I wore those boots everywhere! I didnt have a horse of my own but whenever I got the chance to ride I wore my boots with pride! I had my longed and worked for boots into my mid twenties, when I lovingly gave them to my little sister when she was 13 so she could use them while showing her horse in horseshows,which made another dream of mine come true through her, I always wanted to be an experienced horsewoman .She was great and won many blue ribbons in her horseshowing years.I always kidded her that it was all because of my lucky boots!After 36 years of raising a family of nine children,I finally have a horse! I have had my heart set on a pair of ProBaby Boots with some red on them since my horse has a red saddle blanket and after all ,Iam old enough to be a red hat lady.With fancy boots I could once again ride with pride!!
The New England Cow Girl
By Kathryn Sullivan, Ipswich, MA, posted April 2nd, 2009
“You know that blonde from Texas”, was the description he used. Piper replied, “do you mean Kath?” He did not know my name, but I had become the blonde from Texas…It was a laugh out loud moment when my friend Piper realized it was me, Kath, that he spoke of. Born and bred in New England, as a sailor, always on the water, the vision of me being “the girl from Texas” really struck her funny bone.
Cowboy boots have always been part of me. At 3 walking down the catwalk of my parents sailboat; I had to have my cowboy boots with me. In high school trudging through the New England winter, my cowboy boots were still with me….even in college in Maine, my cowboy boots came along with me. I had different kinds and different colors, but no shoes felt as good and embraced my spirit as much. When all my friends embraced clogs as the comfort/fashion shoe…I stuck with my cowboy boots; but until recently I never really knew how utilitarian my boots could be!!
A great day this summer out on a northern New England beach…a long day of swimming, sunning and kicking the soccer ball around with my sons and a host of friends was coming to a close, but we just didn’t want the day to end. So, we stayed a bit too long and the tide was out a bit too far for us to return the boat by engine to our mooring. We reside a small way in from the ocean and are lucky enough to have a river which pulls into our neighborhood. As we approached the cree where our mooring is located, we had to make the decision to hop off the boat and pull it the rest of the way as the tide was out too far….everyone put on their shoes and allie-ooped over the side. I however, had my cowboy boots…the comments started flying…her and her crazy boots!!!! Well, as we walked across the creek toward home, the marsh mud was like quick sand and folks started loosing their shoes. Feet in sneakers were pulled down a foot into the mud only to return to the surface without the sneaker. Flip-flops, forget it. They were long gone! I, however, with my cowboy boots was the only one to make it back to shore with both shoes, never having been pulled over into the smelly, slimy mud. As the remaining eight crew members worked their way toward shore, many without shoes at this point, they began to call out to me to toss my cowboy boots to them so they could make it through the clam infested mud without cutting their feet. Being a cowboy boot spirited person, I was only too happy to hurl my boots to them one at a time while they made it to shore with safe feet. Finally, with the whole crew safe on shore, smelling like the undeniable stink of low tide in the marsh, we had a good laugh at the fact that my cowboy boots, the same boots that they think I’m crazy for wearing in New England on a boat were the savior of the day!!
I rinsed them off that night when we returned home and although they’ve never smelled quite the same, they still are a big part of me!! Not a Texan, but a New Englander!!!
Been There Stepped in That
By Brenda Howland, Corning NY, posted March 30th, 2009
Hi my name is the left one. I have a sister named the right one. She’s a litle shy so I will tell you my story. About a year ago we were mailed to a lady in NY state. We wern’t even a week old and she’s trying to clean stalls with us on her feet. Mind you now we’re not a pair of those cheap plain boots. We are a pretty turquoise and brown sexy boot so cleaning stalls was not what we had in mind. After about 5 minutes of that we decided to give her a blister. She learned real quick and got a pair of muck boots for that. I thought we had it straight but then she went out in the pasture to get her pretty white horse. I kept yelling at her “Wait,watch out, don’t step in that.” It was too late. My sister and I were in it up to our calves. She couldn’t hear us ’cause she was to busy chasing after her horse. Green horn! Wasn’t long before she was using us for the purpose for which we were made. But wait there’s more. Two weeks ago she and some of her riding buddies went on the first trail ride of the year. Boy was that pretty white horse ready to act up or what. After trying to race across every field and kick at the other horses he managed to actually kick one. This shook her up so bad she decided to get off that awful horse and lead him back to the barn. I said wait,wait! Remember ALL that mud and water we rode through to get here? When we were safely in the stirups? You’re not thinking of—-Yep she is. This time she couldn’t hear us ’cause she was yelling at that horse. We were a brown mess when we got home. Luckly we are a good pair of cowgirl boots and we were cleaned and almost back to new. I’m sure we have more to go through before our days are done but our owner has learned a lot about boots and horses in the last year.
