Love your pix especially the second one, made me smile.
I write a bit of not so good "Cowboy Poetry" It's guys like your Dad and me that I had in mind when I wrote. Not to hijack the thread but I thought it fit.
ECHO OF THE PAST.
You'll see him there At brandins,
or when roundup time is neigh.
He'll be in town to team pen,
or when stampede banners fly.
He still rides a neck reined horse,
even though it ain't "what's in".
Cuz he knows with two hands on the reins,
you just cant make your loop spin.
He'll be in bull hide batwings,
cuz chinks don't protect you low,
And those Californio roweled spurs,
ain't on his heels for show.
A beat up, rolled down, flat crowned hat,
with feather, band and pin.
Next to the style of today,
somehow he don't fit in.
Now he may not be the best top hand,
but he does his share of work.
He can turn his hand to any job,
and he sure ain't one to shirk.
The boys all count him as a friend,
but he's different from the rest.
A hundred years of cowboy pride,
beats strong within his chest.
His Grandpa always told him,
tie hard to the old ways.
Ride a Committee Saddle,
they'll both last you all your days.
An enigma, a conundrum,
a memory born to last.
A shadow from the future,
or an echo of the past.
JAF
A wet day on the roundup