A Country Gal in the City
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About this ebook
“A Country Gal in the City” is a compilation of short stories and poems, all based on real life experiences. Barbie-Jo has lived in many places across the Canadian Prairies, with deep ancestral roots in the Maritimes. The title refers to her love of the many rural places where she has lived, but also her loving connection to big cities, where she has also made her homes.
As she writes on her book cover, the dichotomy between country and city illustrates the contrasts in her life, indeed all of our lives. It is about these contrasts that she writes with great sensitivity and witty humor. Whether she is wearing high heel shoes or manure caked boots, she invites you, the reader, to come along with her on a wonderful reading journey.
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A Country Gal in the City - Barbie-Jo Smith
CHAPTER SEGMENTS
Collision of Cultures
The Gifts
The Headlights Shone at Midnight
SHORT STOPS
A-Lure
The Escarpment
Thoughts on Inspiration
Venting
The Rebel
The Swimming Hole
Prairie Afternoon
By the Lake
Quilting
The Race
REMEMBER ME
Poetry
This poem is for those who feel the pull between living in the country and living in the city, and then realize there is beauty in both.
A Country Gal in the City
Wine glass in hand I am dressed up real fancy
Chatting to folks I just met
I wonder if they guess, but that might be chancy
That I’m a country gal under my dress
My visit is friendly and interestingly
About subjects that make idle chat
But under my guise where no one can see
My heart yearns to be out on horseback
To roam over fields and through coulees deep
Where wild things are safe and protected
I glimpse them but their secrets I keep
We belong to this land- we’re connected
Laughter erupts and breaks through my dream
I smile and join celebration
Just wait till tomorrow when I fish in the stream
My heart leaps with anticipation
Tomorrow I’ll look at my long painted nails
And see that the polish is hurt
By the edge of my metal calf feeding pail
And a ton of good country dirt
A woman approaches and begins conversation
On me does she feel some sort of pity
I discover by change to my great elation
Another country gal here in the city
We chat for a while about barley and sage
And how we came to be in the big city
For chances to work and to earn a good wage
So we can stay joined to the country
We agreed that we had to decide
That we needed both places to live
The city a living it grandly provides
Heart’s desire the country does give
Oh the city is fine with its parks and restaurants
And there’s always a movie to see
Lots of bars’ bistros and other fun haunts
That makes fun times for you and for me
The country is huge with land measured by miles
On which seeders and combines are used
The work days are long and peppered with smiles
To this life country folks are oft fused
So later at home I stripped off my skirt
And jumped into bed for some dreaming
Of fresh air and cattle and good old hard work
That fills me with so much good meaning
So there are times when I curl my long tresses
And go out dressed up real pretty
But never forget under makeup and dresses
I’m a country gal here in the city!
My dear father, Ty Smith, passed away on November 27, 2010. My folks were both born and raised in the Maritimes, transferring west after the Alberta oil rush in the late ‘40s. After living in many places in the Prairie Provinces, my folks retired to Canmore, Alberta. For 32 years they lived and played there; skiing, hiking, biking, running sled dogs, and riding their horses. One evening after Dad’s funeral, I sat down to draft a thank you note for the newspaper and instead, this poem arrived
. It’s my father telling my mother, Mary, that he will come for her one day and they will live and play together again. In sharing this, it is my hope that those of you who have lost a loved one will be comforted by knowing that they go on, they watch over us, and they will come for us when it is our time. God Bless you.
And So My Dear Remember Me
As long as love exists in you
My life will ever go on past
Life’s pain and sorrow I’ve been through
To where I’m home and safe at last
We skied the slopes, white, pure and clean
And stood to watch the eagles soar
Hiking trails – the sights we’ve seen
That touched our hearts straight to the core
From our birthplace in the east
Of this our great and gorgeous land
To life in Canmore soft and sweet
How fine was our life for this man
Go on my dear on till the time
That you hear me call your name
Together we’ll take that final climb
And we’ll be home again
Till then know that my old heart
Soars over you proud and free
We’re really not that far apart
My love, it’s always you and me
And So My Dear Remember Me
I was sitting in a deck chair in Mexico as a small gecko curiously investigated me, wanting to run up a nearby tree. He tried many different ways to get to his goal as he wheeled and turned on his hind legs – just like a tiny dinosaur.
Eventually, he plucked up enough courage to make a run for it. I swear he winked as he ran past.
Gecko
Little tiny fingers
Little tiny toes
Quick as lightening
There he goes!
I turned my head to see his length
Jet past my chair with all his strength
Running on his back legs like a tiny T-Rex
Down the slippery sidewalk and between the decks
He gave me a glance from the side of his eye
Seeming to say a very quick good-bye
I smiled at him despite feeling rather odd
Did I perceive from him a little tiny nod?
He dropped to all fours and ran up the tree
A hundred miles an hour from what did he flee?
I guess it was me, the big thing in the chair
With the sunburned arms and the wild summer hair!
Little tiny fingers
Little tiny toes
Nature’s tiny gymnast
Gave me quite a show!
After a long day of canning, this poem wrote itself! It’s possible that breathing vinegar and spice fumes was influential...
Pickles
Oh yum, yum how I love to eat
Home canned pickles so tart and so sweet
Onions and sugar and spices galore
Make taste buds zingy and shouting for more
Deep in the garden hidden by leaves
Cucumbers reside awaiting to be
All kinds of treats packed tightly in jars
Seasoned just right, small, green super stars
Dill pickles, small and flavoured with salt
Garlic and peppers and vinegar malt
Set on the shelves till they’re ready to eat
I can’t wait to devour these savoury treats
Mustard ones laced with spices and sweets
Often I use big rosy beets
To make bright red morsels to tickle the palate
I’d vote for these winners if I had a ballot
Cucumbers, corn, and broccoli, too
Cauliflower, onions and dill that I strew
In sealers shiny and ready to cradle
All nature’s treasures that I lovingly ladle
Tighten the tops and set them to cool
Survey the bounty from my canning stool
Odours that tease the nostrils and eyes
Winter will yield my work day’s surprise
At the end of the day when my eyes cry big tears
From peeling the onions without my eye gear
And when fingers are wrinkled from washing new veggies
And my old work stool gave me a huge wedgie
All sinuses cleared from inhaling the fumes
Of vinegar designed to clear any room
I survey the product of my long day of labour
My love of the garden and veggies I savour
I know I will do this again every year
Till I’m too old to see, smell and yes, even hear
Some folks look forward to a winter vacation
When weather is harsh in this our great nation
But I think of summer and all that is sweet
And nature’s great pickles chomped ‘tween my front teeth!
I wrote this poem at a time when I was questioning how love grows between two people. We seem to be lulled by the illusion that love is settled and perfect – just like in the movies. In actuality, it can be confusing, messy and hurtful, but the plain fact remains – in the end there is only Love.
About Love
In the cold light of dawn some things become clear
Love has no boundaries
It cannot be tamed nor managed
It must live free to find its level
Safely snuggled around your heart, sheltering it from harm
Love isn’t neat and easy
There are many twists and turns on our path
Sometimes we’re given a rare chance
To grab onto something and really live
Many people search their lives to find what we have
Life is real
Love is real
I am real
In the end, all there is, is love
And you, and me
On a hot summer afternoon after a cattle roundup, on a ranch in Saskatchewan, I started thinking about how it was for those who worked the land long before we came to it. This is cattle country and it is not hard to think of the terrible beauty of this land where people must be prepared for any event in order to do what they must to survive. My cowboy was a special man for he knew how lucky he had been to have ridden the land in freedom and peace.
His message is really the timeless lessons of life.
A Cowboy’s Story
"I was but a youngster then
When I rode my first long drive
A saddle tramp years two and ten
How did I stay alive?
My horse that knew much more than me
My buddies on the trail
My natural talent they did see
Saved me without fail
I look back with weathered eyes
My memories still enduring
Those times at first a huge surprise
But the life was so alluring
The heat, the cold, the rain and snow
They often broke my heart
But this life was all I came to know
Open range where I got my start"
Long hot days with dust and sweat
As I drive the cattle further west
Into the prairie to seek new grass
To feed them and to help them last
Through tough summer days with rain so slight
They’re restless and quickly take to flight
Towards the river with its muddy mire
To quench their burning thirst desire
Sun scorched prairie yields little feed
To fulfil their overwhelming need
To grow strong and yet survive
This hostile climate and to thrive
Growing to be huge strong beasts
That will provide man’s table feast
I drive them towards that finishing goal
Cash on the hoof I very well know
How do cowboys present and past
Toil and slave, yet seem to last
Through summer heat and drought and dust
Driving cattle as they must
The weather changing in a flash
Cruel storms and lightening hot as ash
Torrential rain that soaks the skin
And dampens the very soul within
Yet they carry on through night and day
For them there is no other way
My world seems filled with pestilence
Which demands my utmost vigilance
My savvy horse oft snorts a warning
That wolves slink by in early morning
Snakes that strike with lightning speed
Taking down cow, man and steed
Sucking mud at river’s edge
Claims those who step off the gravel ledge
And hoppers that chomp the