city girl goes bush

Last night we went to the rodeo.

And I don't say that like it's a normal thing. I live in the city. A big city. With tall buildings and lots of men in suits. But last night, just for a bit of fun, the cowboys came to town.

We had front row seats, looking out across a stadium hazy with dust as grown men in plaid shirts, and buckled shoes and cowboy hats slapped their bowed legs around the bare backs fo the most beautiful array of horses and rode for all their might. At first I was pretty taken aback. I hung onto my hubby's sleeve and hoped for no borken bones when they were thrown. Hoped for no saddened horses even more.

Eventually the scenery won me over. The lazy stride, the forward tipped hat, the short hair and strong arms of a cowboy or twenty helped. I loved it best when they'd finished their ride and lined up atop the white horse rails, looking cool as you please.

And I began to enjoy the spectacular and by the end of the night I was whooping it up with the best of the country folk who'd braved the trams and noise and fast talking city people to come to town.

Outside a dozen people protested. I don't even hope to think I know enough about the sport to know exactly why or even if I might agree with them in some small way. But I'm truly glad I got to see the grunt, and muscle and talent, and pain, and quiet strength of watching a bunch of cowboys at play.

Oh yeah, and I wore a cowboy hat too. Fun!