My Journey on Red Creek - Part 1
Growing up on Red Creek was mostly an outdoor experience.
I remember playing in the loose dirt with my toy bulldozer. It was my most cherished toy. I could build roads and create towns. It definitely stimulated my creative juices. Often, Mother would let me build mud holes with the water from her garden hose. That was lots of fun.
I remember playing in the loose dirt with my toy bulldozer. It was my most cherished toy. I could build roads and create towns. It definitely stimulated my creative juices. Often, Mother would let me build mud holes with the water from her garden hose. That was lots of fun.
1944
Later, I had a wooded wagon that I treated like the cattle trucks that would come to the ranch, to haul the animals my daddy raised to market. The wagon was very strong and versatile. I could haul all kinds of stuff in it, including my little sister. Frequently, I would haul rocks or bricks and build things. I liked to build things.
1949
When I was about 8 I got a full-sized bicycle. There were no training wheels. I learned fast because I discovered the ground was hard when I fell on it. My sister, who was 14 months younger than me, learned everything faster than I did. It was no problem for her to keep up with me. Soon, we were ridding our bikes one mile to the school bus. We also rode those bikes everywhere we could. We went up and down the county road and into the pasture wherever there was a decent trail. We had a lot of flats and I soon learned how to patch them. I had my own hand pump.
My Dad was eager for me to learn how to ride a horse. That was not something that came naturally to me. When we went to Grandpa and Grandma Kothmann’s house Daddy and Grandpa always wanted to put me on a certain horse and parade me around the barn yard. I was not comfortable with it and could sense their disappointment. Sadly, those elementary attempts at developing my horsemanship are the only interactions I remember with Grandpa Kothmann. He died when I was 9.
My Dad was eager for me to learn how to ride a horse. That was not something that came naturally to me. When we went to Grandpa and Grandma Kothmann’s house Daddy and Grandpa always wanted to put me on a certain horse and parade me around the barn yard. I was not comfortable with it and could sense their disappointment. Sadly, those elementary attempts at developing my horsemanship are the only interactions I remember with Grandpa Kothmann. He died when I was 9.
1949
However, it was imperative that I not only learn to ride a horse, but do it well. If I was going to contribute to the operation of the ranch, most days in the spring and summer began with rounding up sheep, goats or cattle on a horse. Then we would ‘work’ the livestock as needed. Once we started a job, we finished it that day regardless of the weather. Riding horseback in the rain is not that bad. It brings you in touch with nature.
Even though riding a horse was not a natural part of my comfort zone, over the years it brought a multitude of experiences that fed my spiritual sensitivities about being in nature. All of the sights and sounds of being outdoors, especially very early in the day, are amplified when you are on a horse. Sunrises, sunsets, movements of wildlife, scenery and its fine points that are not apparent from a vehicle, touch your spirit and broaden its significance. Gradually, one realizes you are only a small part of a large tapestry of life.
Growing up on a ranch leaves no doubt that God is real. Life is real. God’s majesty is everywhere. Animals and critters are born. They die. They fight. They struggle to improve their lot. Life is not easy. Survival is a constant struggle.
Even though riding a horse was not a natural part of my comfort zone, over the years it brought a multitude of experiences that fed my spiritual sensitivities about being in nature. All of the sights and sounds of being outdoors, especially very early in the day, are amplified when you are on a horse. Sunrises, sunsets, movements of wildlife, scenery and its fine points that are not apparent from a vehicle, touch your spirit and broaden its significance. Gradually, one realizes you are only a small part of a large tapestry of life.
Growing up on a ranch leaves no doubt that God is real. Life is real. God’s majesty is everywhere. Animals and critters are born. They die. They fight. They struggle to improve their lot. Life is not easy. Survival is a constant struggle.
