When I am an old ranch woman

I'm sure you've seen the poem pass by, titled "When I am an old horsewoman." It's a favorite of mine and a few times, I have had people send it to me saying that they thought of me when they read it. I am always flattered when it happens and yet, somehow, it isn't quite me....I love the poem and I wish the author was known in order to give her credit.

But, as I do with some things, I had to take it and give it the "Ruby" spin. I've modified it, but hopefully left enough that it can be recognized as a complement to the poem that helped this one become what it is....I give you my version, as I see myself, "When I am an old ranch woman..."

When I am an old ranch woman…

When I am an old ranch woman

I shall wear turquoise and silver and a pistol under my shirt

And I will wear my hair dyed blond, too long for my age, tangled and blowing in the wind

I shall spend my retirement on books and chocolate and old pawn jewelry

And sit on my porch looking out across the meadow

And listen to the horses while they graze

I will sneak out on sunny days and ride the old roan gelding bareback, because I know he will let me

When people come to call I will offer them a beer and drive them down to the cows, making them get the gates

I will point out those that I have named and tell each of their stories, laughing obnoxiously when it is funny to me and me alone

I’ll wear colors that are too bright for me and walk the cow trails wearing yoga pants and wildly patterned socks

And laugh at the antics of the border collie and corgi running along beside me

I will pick my favorite wildflowers and give them names that I think suit them

And shoot rattlesnakes that cross my path

I will be an embarrassment to those who are too proper or easily offended

And I’ll laugh too loud at things I find amusing

I’ll not be ashamed to cry when a fond memory comes to mind in the middle of a story

The wrinkles in my face will tell of moments of deep thought, bouts of long laughter, smiles shared, impatience felt, love, and days spent in the elements

My hands will show signs of reins held, ropes swung, fences fixed, animals doctored and hugs given

My best friends will be the old roan gelding, the doe eyed cow and the barn cat basking in the sun on my living room floor

Some will say that I am too crass, too bold or too “hard”

And some will say I’ve gone mad

When really, I am the one who is at peace with being free

To live as a ranch woman

To be the kind of woman

I had once hoped to be

When I am old.