…she envisioned fields of flowers in a meadow full of butterflies…

A butterfly rested upon the  silky thread of a whisker from a horses nostril fluttering softly as a breath escaped.

Snort!! …and off tumbles the butterfly…

Oh!  Hi!

The scenery at the coffee shop this morning was delightful!  The energetic feel around the home boys sitting out front was squirmy and tight.  Took all I had to keep a straight face and let them be. Wanted to poke ‘em with a stick to see what would happen.  Grinning Big!    A wee bit of evil in me wanted to be set free. Don’t worry I was good I contained “Little Miss Evil” and walked by quietly like a good girl.  Damn I hate being good… missed out on some real fun.

Moral of the story… live every day as if it is your last. Explore every avenue… offer every opportunity… breath in every particle… and don’t let life get so serious that you miss out on the fun stuff. Lust after beauty… but allow your visionary self to truly see what makes that beauty beautiful.

This is what I saw this morning. It wasn’t that I saw three handsome men… what I saw was sun glasses glistening in the warm morning rays… the moving shadow cast from a body spoke as if it were itself a being.  Flickers of light caught on a dogs hair floating in the air freed from its four legged owner by the stroke of hand.  Graceful lines etched in the faces of men who were none too aware. The subtle movement of their clothing as air was being taken with each breath. The smell of copper in the air left palpable on the tongue… (hmnmm that’s curious?), and one very beautiful being emerging from the midst of it all.  Yes in a matter a  few very short seconds I was blessed, my senses fulfilled with these amazing beauties.

Yep my morning started off very nicely indeed.  I hope you see  the beauty that makes things beautiful and lust after it with all you have in your being.  At the end of your day my wish for you is a perpetual fulfilled smile that cant escape your face or your heart.

A couple of weeks ago I had a dream about someone  who was struggling for life because they could not catch their breath.  This is someone I actually know, who has in a round about way had an impact on me, having been present for some very major events in my life. As such a presence I have learned over the years to hold them somewhat close – like family.  They on the other hand have no idea.  Not a thought!  In my dream I ran hither and fro to find someone to help save their life.  Then I woke up. I’m not close enough to this person to really know anything about what goes on in their life, however living in a small town some news does travel around. Talking to another friend tonight, we discussed dreams and their possible deeper meaning.  Later it came to me that the person I dreamed about had recently lost a pet… a pet that had a mission, a purpose that had very deep meaning for the object of my dream, and was very close to succeeding in that purpose.  The loss was senseless and helpless. The entire communities feelings were palpable. Being empathic, I felt the empathy, sympathy, and for some the “attitude” or “opinion”  in many cases not favorable… the primary feeling of the town though was one of sadness.  The dream I had occurred a few days after the pets demise. I had wished that I could offer some sort of support to help with the pain of loss.  But that opening is not available to me.  Now it makes sense. I could feel the persons pain  and the communities awareness like it was water touching my skin. Feeling helpless to help.  So in my dream I scampered around trying to find help to save a life, not really being able to make a difference.  Why such a sad story for Thankful Thursday?  Because I realize that I still am connected, that I feel so much more of my surroundings. Something I thought I had shut down  before moving to Colorado.  But my connection to other living things, and people is very much alive and searching for a way to express itself. If only in my dreams for now. I feel like I’m able to open back up and let the empathic juices flow again.  So again my distant friend… you have impacted my life in yet another powerful way.  I wish only the warmest and most generous journey in life for you.

On to a friend whom I am exploring for the second time in life.  He too has given me a gift. Again tonight, while visiting about dreams with my friend, we also touched on other gifts that come in some very surprising packages.  My renewed friendship with a very special man whom I’ve always held feelings for comes after a darker period in our relationship.  Not really dark as in dank and perilous, but just non existent (12 years non existent).  Recently he has shared with me several times that we are embarking anew, the past doesn’t exist for us. We are just meeting fresh and beginning a new journey.  I’ve had to absorb this and fondle it…   and it resonates with me.  As my life each day is one of a new journey!  My friend has freed me of the past. He has opened the gates to allow this mare to run free, take in the wind, soak up the sun and to come to him as she feels the need.  A perfect symbiotic relationship. One of no encumbrances.  How I wish others could find this path and the love and joy and most of all FREEDOM that comes with it.  Thanks HANDSOME COWBOY…  I really do find you (the person you are from your earthly soul to your captivating mind), so very alluring and safe. I wish only to offer the same in return.

I am so thankful for the realizations that came today, for my friend who traveled down the path with me toward these discoveries… HUGS Maryanne!

There is always something to find gratitude in.  Even if it’s found in a dream… or offered as a place from which to begin anew.

Simrat, a good friend, posted a video on Facebook that grabbed me and set me off to contemplate on something I have grappled with for many years.   I have always believed that every person had the ability to communicate empathically, only figured they just didn’t tap into it for whatever reason. Having spent nearly all of my life living empathically, communicating with animal kingdom beings mostly, but also occasionally if not fleetingly with people as well, it always amazes me how few people embrace it.  Horses and other animals I have known taught me how.   I’m so connected to them intellectually and spiritually through empathy that there really is no need for verbal  communication.  In fact I find empathic communication to be the truest sense of communication.

I miss it!

It’s a void here for me other than visiting with Cookie the guinea pig and Dragon the bearded dragon, or someones occasional dog or cat.  There is one person in town who is empathic in a powerful way but does not use it in any beneficial way.  You can feel the empathic nature of another person and see it as well. It is either there or it isn’t, and when it is there the connection is unmistakeable. I have found myself  strongly attracted to this person and wanting to immerse myself in silent communication with them.  But it’s pretty one sided and not going to happen.  They are not aware of their special connection.  It saddens me to find these lost people, who are missing out on a much deeper experience in life

Recently I have reconnected with an old friend who is also empathic, they have a powerful connection and do communicate on an earthly level with other living beings.  This person was strongly connected with me through my horses many years ago that created a certain bond. This reunion as brought back some powerful memories of a time when the majority of my communication was done silently between me and a horse while being around a certain few people who wanted to tap into their own ability.

As my regular readers know, I’ve been broken where  horses are concerned.  I’ll be reunited with them soon, as I’ll be visiting my reconnected friend in a couple months.  It will be wonderful to see him again after so many years, but  I’m petrified to see his horses, one of which I was strongly connected to. The thought though of passing through that veil into a world of empathic bliss is intoxicating.  A dangerous place for a empathaholic. Yet exhilarating!  Being with my friend again will be so perfect, but being with the horses… I don’t know yet.  When I think about it tears seep from my eyes and wash down my face.  Pro will be coming home next summer, and somehow I have to find a way to engage him empathically without fear.  I’m not going back over how I got here – read the blog you’ll learn.

I am so thankful for the reconnect with my friend from the past, all the possibilities we are seeking to explore in the future, and the opening back up of that door to an empathic communication with life.  We have a song.  “Start All Over” by Tracy Chapman.  This song applies to our   journey, my friend and I… but also to everyone and the world in general.  It says it all, and this particular video is amazing to listen to…

Tracy is just the most beautiful woman!

(Paris 1998 – Tracy Chapman)

Here is the video that Simrat posted on Facebook that sent me off  on this reminiscence of empathic connection with life.  Its amazingly accurate in  my book.

(RSA Animate – 21st century enlightenment )

I agree with many of the thoughts in this video – that humanity can recreate their situation if they reunite with a common empathy.  I believe humanity if collectively empathic with their Mother and each other can have a New Beginning.

I believe my friend and I will soar this time around. You know why? Because all we have to do is be presently empathic for one another and set our egos aside. Something we both understand and seek.  To experience a kinder, gentler more compassionate life for the better of both.  Being on the same Red Road is an amazing way to journey through life with a friend.

Its been a few months now since my last post. Snow has melted,  rivers have over flowed with raging waters to settle down to good fishing. Wild Flowers are blooming and wildlife is on the move. People have steadily converged upon our little town to explode during the 4th of July festivities.  Now we are on the down side again, people slowly drifting away.  Mountains are green. We had some warm summer days  that have given way to cooler temps and thunder rains.

I’ve made new friends, am working on cultivating more friends and made a  mistake that caused some discomfort with someone I care about. But hey we are all human right. We get past the crap and move on.

All in all I am so very happy and content in my little town.  I have spent three to four days a week jogging back trails or hiking steep mountain sides to sit under the sky and soak up the sounds and smells of the wilderness.  The soft touch of the wind on my skin always puts a gigantic smile on my face.  If I can find someone to casually share these things with my life would be at its most perfect space in time.

I haven’t taken any pics this spring or summer to share.  Some things you just have to experience in person to understand the impact they have.  To represent how I feel though and how free I am and the joy in life I am experiencing…

I give you Celt’s Prophecy…

(Photo Courtesy: Kathy of Kickapoo Center Spanish Mustangs – Wisconsin – Pro is my 2 year old colt from the last of my breeding program who is staying with Kathy for the next year before I bring him home to Silverton, Colorado.)

The windows wide open, fresh air filling the room, Bright sunshine filtering in, this was a glorious day!  Started with breakfast with my friend Pam, then home to organize stuff for a bit. Later comes a visit from Mark Garvin one of the resident carpenters in town.  Mark is a master worker!  He transformed my so so bathroom into a spa retreat in no time at all and with little expense to me and great suggestions.  Only a couple more things need to be done to finish my vision and make the space a wee bit more user friendly and wallah(!) a gorgeous inviting place that’s functional and friendly.   Maryanne, Marks wife is the owner and fitness guru of Silverton Movement Center and has become a great friend.  She sent home with me something really cool today to go with my retreat.  It’s called “CALDREA” (countertop cleaner and liquid dish soap), and it smells heavenly and its a safe product.  Okay I have a new product line that I’m buying my household cleansers from!! I came right home and started wiping down the bathroom surfaces with it, relishing in how wonderful it cleans leaving the bathroom smelling wonderful.  I’m getting some of this stuff for Heather to try!!!  Maryanne also set me up with a couple and possibly more massages this weekend at her massage site. Bring ‘em on!  Mark and Maryanne are just really good people and I am very thankful that I have met them both and that they have been so welcoming to me since moving to Silverton.  Truly, I may not have done as well as I have if not for Maryanne’s referrals and support, and I would not be as happy in my abode if not for Marks creation.  Thank you guys!

Pro is not coming home this summer.  It was really causing me hardship to pull it off this soon. Kathy of Kickapoo Center Farm, who is such a sweetheart, is letting him stay at her place, in Wisconsin, until I can move him comfortably.  It takes a huge burden off of me since June is coming right around the corner and I haven’t had the opportunity to locate an affordable boarding situation. Kathy has been a Savior, a Saint, and a good friend!  Thanks Kathy.

Okay that’s it for today’s Thankful Thursday folks. I’m off to spend the evening with Dragon (the bearded dragon), and Cookie (the guinea pig). Great companionship!

Happy Thankful Thursday, All!

I know its been awhile since my last Thankful Thursday. I’ve been so filled up with great stuff in my life, that I just have been too busy enjoying it all.  Thought today I’d revisit some gratitude for how awesome my life has been recently.

Krissy my bestest friend in the whole wide world came from Arizona to visit me here in Silverton. She brought her man, Jesse,  and son, Evan, with her and we all had a great time. Krissy and I just kinda hung out together, while Jesse, went snowboarding and adventuring.  We all hung out a bit with Heather and Malcolm and played some Xbox.   I keep going back over the awe I feel when I think that Krissy made this huge attempt to come see me.  I’m just not use to that happening.  I’m so thankful for your effort Krissy.  Loved getting to know Evan better and playing grandma.  I’m thankful for Jesse too, for making it possible for you to drive the ten hours each way be with family.

Ive been eating  a paleo ‘type’ diet the past two weeks and am finding that I feel great!  I have had some large toe joint issues that I have assumed was from having my feet stomped on repeatedly over the years by horses.  The other night though I discovered that it may be more to do with gout than the bone spurs. Over the last couple of years I’ve been working toward a more alkaline diet, but of course fall off the wagon occasionally.  Well having read up on nutrition regarding gout and finding that many of the non meat paleo foods are great for lessening the affects of gout. So I am trying  them, and guess what? Three days and my large toe joints don’t hurt as bad. Really I’m not really noticing them.  Makes me want to jump for joy. Especially since I have also discovered that my knee will now allow me to jog!!! YAY!!  I can jog again without pain, which makes me feel like I’m living again.  I love learning about nutrition and how its helps our bodies cope and grow.

When Krissy came to visit she brought me Cookie, the sweetest most adorable guinea pig.  I am having so much fun getting to know her and she is the liveliest, busiest piggly wiggly you could ever imagine.  She has a cavie corral  which is approximately 2 by 4 feet and she makes good use of it scurrying around playfully kicking up her heels like a young foal in play. She comes over to the corner of her corral that is closest to where I sit at night and waits for me to pick her up and cuddle with her. She loves to scramble up around my neck and sit behind me on the pillow I lean against.  It’s just nice having someone warm and soft and cuddly to commune with.  Perfect for my small space living style.

Most of all I am so enjoying my new bathroom. Still waiting for the curtains to be finished and my frames so that I can put up my artwork up on the freshly painted walls.  By the end of this month it will be competed and then I’ll share pictures of it.  Its going to be a mini spa experience every time I go in there. I smile every time I do.

Saturday, Heather will come to enjoy the spa retreat.   I’m fixing it up for her to come soak in the heavenly claw foot tub tucked away within a grove of yummy tropical plants in a beachy like atmosphere.  She needs a “me” day. My heart swells so huge, when I can do things like this for my baby.

Tonight I am having homemade quail stew. Going to experiment with carrots, onions, and yams replacing the typical potatoes.  Yams are part of my alkaline movement in foods.  Being slightly sweet they should compliment the mildly gamey quail.

Life is good in Silverton. I’m so happy to be HAPPY again. I smile a lot just hanging out here in my little abode.

We are so lucky to have such great people come to our little town nestled away in the San Juan Mountains. Recently SixEleven (a filming company visited out town to snow board and film their adventure here in Silverton Colroado.  One of our towns more active extreme athletes found the video below online and shared it with us on Twitter. Seeing the video I had to ask if SixEleven would consider allowing me to share it on my blog and thus offered for them to guest blog as well.  Below you’ll find their response – what great guys!

(Guest Blogger)

FEBRUARY FLIPPY FUN

Silverton is a really rad town that is nestled high in the San Juans. Growing up just an hour away in Durango I never really knew what I had lying in my backyard. The amount of terrain and features in and around Silverton is absolutely endless and each time I go down there we end up finding a new zone or new features to hit. It is truly amazing that I had so many of these spots accessible to me as a child and didn’t even appreciate it. The people of Silverton have always seemed to open people of the snowboard community with open arms. Our last trip down there was one of the most memorable. We rented a house downtown for the month of February and were very anxious to get up in the mountains. We actually almost had more fun riding in town then up on the pass. The locals were nice enough to push jumps with their Bobcats, they even let us jib a public works dumptruck. Within a few minutes of setting up the dumptruck word had gotten around town and we had an audience. Even the local Deputy cut us a break for skitching behind the truck down Green Street, something that is most likely illegal and not all that safe. All in all the town of Silverton is a great place to visit, and the laid back homey welcome we received from everybody in town we came across will ensure us to not only coming back again, but to make it an annual adventure for SixEleven.

SixEleven February Flippy Fun from SixEleven on Vimeo.

You may want to plan your next winter vacation in Silverton Colorado…

About SixEleven Productions…

On June 11, 2004 SixEleven Productions was founded with the desire to provide a new outlook on filmmaking in the snowboard industry. For all of us at SixEleven, snowboarding is not only a hobby but it is also a way of life. Through the production of our films we want to show our love for snowboarding as well as the fun, passion, and comradary that exists within the sport.

SixEleven has a reputation as being a driving force in Colorado snowboarding. With films like “Far From Finished”, “Football! and “This Is Serious” we have proven we can produce a high quality, marketable, and entertaining film. The new film, “Stop…Hammertime!”

will be the fourth full-length snowboard film produced, filmed,edited,promoted, and distributed by SixEleven. With new additions to the crew, we plan on delivering the same fun and entertainment that people have come to expect from a SixEleven film, while tailoring it for a much broader spectrum of people.

In past videos, our limited budget has only allowed us to film in Colorado and surrounding areas. This year we hope to go far beyond the normal realms of what we have done in the past, from a circuit of premiers in other states to international viral edits released regularly, as well as distribution both online and in snowboard shops across the country. In other words, we are setting the bar much higher for this next season.

For more interesting film adventures please visit SixEleven Productions or visit their Facebook page.

Please enjoy Cowboy & Cowgirl Life – The Code presentation Part ll – Cowgirl Prairie Rose Henderson. (or was it cowgirls?) Written by Shirley Morris – Shirley Morris is a writer/filmmaker and author of Oh You Cowgirl! The True Story of Unsung Hero’s of the West.

THE PONY EXPRESSION is proud to bring you a two part TRUE story of Prairie Rose Henderson – a story full of the Western Code of Life.

So here we go – Part ll

A FAMILY SECRET

“Rodeo is family … you don’t reveal your family secrets to anyone…” -A cowgirl performer from JE Ranch Rodeo

THE TRUE STORY of PRAIRIE ROSE HENDERSON

The world learned the sad news of the fate of Prairie Rose Henderson from newspapers across the country in 1939. She went out into a snowstorm in 1932 and her remains would not be found for more than seven years. Yet, all the time she was lost Henry Clayton tried to get the press to listen to his plea, “It is my mother, Rose Clayton, who is lost out there. Not Prairie Rose Henderson.  It was Rose Clayton-Coleman whose bodily remains were identified by the coroner and she still lies in an unmarked grave in Rawlins, WY. But what became of the famous, flamboyant cowgirl who thrilled rodeo crowds across the country, Prairie Rose Henderson?

Waverly, New York, 1939

The kitchen was warm and filled with an inviting aroma from the morning baking of breads. Tiny bits of flour danced slowly upon prisms of sunlight streaming through the window above the porcelain sink as Dolly washed the sticky dough from her hands. Grabbing the gingham towel from the side of the wood stove, she gently patted them until they were dry. Gazing out the window above the sink, she saw the hired ranch hand and part time JE Ranch Rodeo clown Pichandle, chopping wood by the shed. Taking both hands and opening the wood framed window, she called out, raising her voice just loud enough for him to hear,

“Pichandle! Come on over here when you have a minute. I have a chore or two for you to do for me.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there shortly.”

Pichandle didn’t mind at all doing chores for Miss Dolly. He knew she would repay his efforts with her baked goods and that was better than any amount of money. He smiled wondering what kind of “chore” she would come up with to justify her fine gift of warm bread and muffins. Pichandle looked back toward the reflection in the window of the almost fifty year old woman affectionately. She had always treated him fairly and with the kind of respect usually reserved for workers of much higher stature. But then, that was simply her nature.

Dolly closed the window tightly and walked over to the square wooden table in the middle of the room. Pulling out a heavy wooden chair, she sat down and moved the large yellow mixing bowl over to the side. Hoping to ease the pain of age and years of youthful abuse, she cupped her hands around a badly swollen left knee rubbing gently, but as usual, the pain persisted.

A newspaper, The Lethbridge Herald from Alberta, Canada was still on the table where she had left it along with several other newspapers from across the country, all exhibiting the same frontpage headline. Dolly knew the story well. Even so, it was unbelievable to read the words in print. Picking the folded paper up and holding it just far enough away so her eyes could focus upon the words, she read the story one more time. Up and down, side-to-side, her eyes moved with purpose, desperate to see those words again. And there, on the front page, they were. The bold, black, hot set headline confronting her eyes, challenging her to read on.  Furrowing her brow she read; “SKELETON OF MISSING RODEO STAR IS FOUND”

Squinting, with eyes now affected by years of Diabetes, she blinked twice trying to refocus upon the words from the beginning. The news article continued; Rawlins, Wyo. July 25 –(AP) The skeleton of “Prairie Rose” Henderson, rodeo star who disappeared in a blizzard seven years ago, was found in the Green mountain section yesterday…”

She read it again and again. God willing she would somehow believe it. She could feel her racing heart all the way up her neck and down into the tips of her fingers. Closing her eyes tightly, she held the paper a moment longer before returning it to the table. Gently placing both hands upon the story Dolly covered the black words, so exposed upon the stark, white sheet of newsprint. She sat quietly, barely breathing.

Finally, resurfacing from oceans of thought, she gasped and captured a long, deep breath of warm air. Everything that meant anything to this woman was there at that moment; her husband, Col. Jim Eskew,  sons Junior and Tom, the ranch, the show – everything she loved, everything important. All she and Jim had worked for in a lifetime. Recalling all she had surrendered, left behind in the past, she cloaked herself in the wonderful baking aroma, the smell of home, the light that filtered into her soul from the golden morning sun, streaming into the kitchen. Somehow, this sanctuary offered safety and permission to raise her closed eyes and move deep into a memory hidden long ago. A faint smile lifted the corners of her lips and just like that, she was away in another time, another place, another life.

Cheyenne, Wyoming 1911

“Over here, boys! You want pictures of the great cowgirl, Prairie Rose?  C’mon over here, she’s a-waitin’ for you.”  C B Irwin, a giant of a man and one of the founders of Cheyenne Frontier Days, smiled and with one hand atop her shoulder, pointed with the other hand to the young, pretty, feminine girl standing beside him. He looked down at the girl, no more than nineteen, twenty years old and instructed her, “OK. Now you smile and tell ‘em what they wanna hear. Don’t you forget, they are here for the show – you make sure you give ‘em a show.”

At the same time, an older, suntanned and weathered woman was exiting the arena, far away from the crowd now surrounding “The Prairie Rose”. Rose Henderson had just finished riding Gin Fizz in the Ladies Saddle Bronc Riding Contest and the crowd had gone wild. She made her ride in expert fashion and walked away from the cheering crowds without fanfare. C B called out to her as he left the rodeo arena, “Good ride, Rosey. You and Jimmie comin’ out to the ranch for supper Sunday?”

Beating the dry, white dust from her purple split skirt, she nodded yes, she would be there. Still feeling somewhat wounded that C B would bring in a ‘ringer’ for her, someone younger and prettier, to talk to the press, she just could not bring herself to make eye contact with the consummate showman, C B Irwin, owner of Irwin Bros. Wild West Show. She thought to herself, “I’m still the better cowgirl and that’s what the blasted newsboys and photographers should be interested in.”

The woman known as “Rose Henderson” had been born in 1875 in Nebraska, Lillian Rosetta White. She had always used her middle name, Rose, and liked it better than her first. She married a blacksmith, Ira Mealman, a Swedish Immigrant who spoke little English and the couple had two children. Her youngest child died in childbirth and Lillian decided she could no longer stay in a loveless marriage. She gathered her five year old daughter, Daisy, and left to join her married sister, Hattie in Colorado.

It was in Colorado she met a cowboy by the name of Tom Henderson. He told her she could make some money, good money, enough to support herself and daughter, if she were willing to get on the back of a buckin’ horse and stick for just a few seconds. “It’s not that hard, Rosey, we’ll tie your stirrups and with hobbled stirrups, you won’t be goin’ nowhere ‘til the pickup man comes to get ya.” Tom thought for a minute and realizing she was a divorced woman, unchaperoned, traveling alone, she may have a problem gaining admittance as a rider in the show. It was a common problem and good heartedly suggested they become “married” for the sake of the towns folk who objected to loose women and poker. The name stuck and Rose Mealman, by way of jumping the proverbial rodeo marriage broom stick became Rose Henderson for the rest of her professional career. Much to the consternation of Tom’s true wife, Maude Tarr, another rodeo cowgirl.

Rose found she loved the thrill of riding saddle broncs and became quite good at it. There weren’t many rodeos at the time but there were scores of wild west shows and circus’ and she had no problem finding work.

She was hired as one of the cowgirls for Irwin Bros. Wild West and C B had a habit of only hiring the best cowgirls; Ollie Osborn, Fanny Sperry Steele, Goldie St. Claire, Fox Hastings, and his own expert cowgirl daughters, Pauline, Joella and Francis.

Rose not only found fame and fortune with Irwin Bros. Wild West, she found her husband, cowboy and ranch hand, Jimmie Danks. The cowboy and cowgirl were married in Nebraska in 1908.

The best of the best. Fox Hastings, Joella Irwin, Tillie Baldwin, Ollie Osborn, Rose Henderson, Gladys Irwin, Pauline Irwin.

Dolly Michaelis posed in the middle of the arena for all the newsmen and rodeo photographers. A German immigrant and runaway from Pennsylvania, she embraced the persona of “The Prairie Rose”.

Dolly learned to ride rosined horses and became a ménage rider before becoming a headliner and star for the stage production “Young Buffalo”. Her act was described as:

“Display No. 12.

Roping and riding the wildest and most untamable horses procurable anywhere, introducing the world’s greatest subduer of the outlaw equine, Prairie Rose, Beyond cavil the greatest and most intrepid female rider in the known world.”

Her job also included being in charge of all cowgirls in the show. She not only was beautiful, she was the feminine match to C B Irwin and a natural at marketing her abilities and talents.

She told the newsboys what they wanted to hear – all about her ride on the bucker Gin Fizz and offered advice to American women in the process: “Riding is good for you and will help you keep a glow to your cheeks and your girlish figure.” The newsboys wrote, “ Prairie Rose is beyond a doubt the most fearless lady rider in the world. Dolly smiled as Ralph Doubleday told her to look into the camera and show America who “the sweetheart of the rodeo” really is.

Her costume was unlike anything anyone had ever seen, soft velvet cordouroy with sequins, Maribou feathers, Mink and the largest, most flamboyant Sombrero-like Stetson hat anyone had seen. Her smile was wide and inviting. Her eyes danced as the newsmen and photographers asked their questions and camera’s captured the image of what America wanted and needed to see, a very feminine, perfectly coutured young woman exhibiting the strength and courage of the western cowgirl.

The persona of Prairie Rose and Rose Henderson have combined along with the cowgirl who lost her life in the Wyoming snowstorm in 1932, Rose Gale-Clayton-Coleman to become a larger than life legend. All three women, unsung heroes of our Western past and heritage.

Cowgirls of the JE Ranch Rodeo with Miss Dolly Eskew, The Prairie Rose

Our third entry for Cowboy & Cowgirl Life – The Code comes to us in two parts about famous Cowgirl Prairie Rose Henderson. (or was it cowgirls?) Written by Shirley Morris – Shirley Morris is a writer/filmmaker and author of Oh You Cowgirl! The True Story of Unsung Hero’s of the West.

THE PONY EXPRESSION is proud to bring you a two part TRUE story of Prairie Rose Henderson – a story full of the Western Code of Life.

So here we go – Part l

THE STORY OF ROSA ANNA GALE
by Shirley Morris

A Rose Is A Rose, Is A Rose …

February, 1933. Snow was beginning to fall fast as Sheriff James Thompson drove up into the Green Mountains of Wyoming. Temperatures had been dropping and he wanted to get this business done before the mountain roads became impassible. The heavily rutted dirt road was now coated with snow as he made his way toward the ranch house. Stopping under the big Pine, he stepped down on the floor break and turned the motor off. Thompson opened the car door to a bone chilling wind and pelting snow to his forehead. Quickly placing his hat upon his head, he stood up and pulled the heavy woolen collar high on his neck, adjusting his belt and holster,  checking to make sure the cold, metal cuffs were in place on his belt.With wide, heavy stride, he stepped up to the wooden porch and knocked hard on the front door. Readying himself for whatever should come next, he cocked his head to the side and listened to the sounds of footsteps coming toward him from within the small house. Slowly, the door opened revealing the darkness of the room. A woman’s voice inquired softly from the other side of the door, “Sheriff?” “I need to speak with your husband, ma’am.”

Sheriff Thompson spoke kindly and quietly to the woman. Fifty, Fifty five, no more than a spit of an old woman, she carried herself slightly hunched at the shoulders. Thompson recognized her face and deep brown eyes and recalled how they had appeared years ago on a much younger and athletic body .

“She was really somethin’ then,” he thought to himself.As a young girl, Rosa met and fell in love with A.C. Clayton a young, good looking cowboy raised on the Kansas plains. A.C brought Rose to Wyoming from her home in Bristol, Ohio. The two of them married and were happy for a time. They had two children, May and Henry. Competing in the annual Frontier Days events was a family affair. A. C. won the cowboy’s saddle bronc event a couple of times. May and Henry both won their events. But Rosey was the real star. She entered the 1904 Cowgirls Relay Race with three borrowed horses and won in a thunderous blaze of glory narrowly beating out Joella Irwin. Two years later she participated in the very first official Cowgirls Saddle Bronc Event and took home the winners Gold Cup for her efforts.

Hailed  a local hero for a time and known throughout the area as “Prairie Rose” Clayton, she had been among the first of many local girls who competed in the Frontier Days celebration. As a young woman, Rosey was a strong willed, adventurous spirit and some swear they can remember the time she demanded a ride on a bucker at the festival in 1901. She questioned the judges and told them “If you can’t produce a rule that forbids me to ride then you must let me have a spot in the contest!” The judges were hard pressed to come up with any ruling that would prohibit girls from riding with the boys in competition. They simply could not understand why in tarnation she would want to! Rosey pressed her point and legend has it  the judges let her ride. But nothing was recorded in the official results. In fact, nothing was ever reported in the local papers and the event was for the most part forgotten.

A.C. and Rose weren’t carnies or shipped in by train from some wild west show in the east. They were hard workin’ local folk, come to town for some fun, escaping from the day to day sameness of the ranch, just showin’ how they do it on the ranch, just showin’ how they do it real. Rose Clayton poses with the three borrowed horses she rode and won the 1906 Cowgirl Relay at Cheyenne Frontier Days.

Photo courtesy Marge Earlywine, Mabel Strickland Cowgirl Museum.

Somewhere along the line, the marriage unraveled and the two very unhappy participants had different versions of a failed and hard marriage. One version may be just as true and no truer than the other but the sad reality was simple; Rose became a divorced mother of two. She was left on her own and it was her duty and sole responsibility to support herself and her children. As any mamma bear would do, she resigned herself to go wherever and do whatever needed to be done to feed and clothe her children. Someone told  her about a job in Utah for a cook in a mining camp and without any further thought, she and the children were packed and on their way to a new future. It isn’t known how long she stayed but eventually, she found herself in California where  son Henry eventually became a plumber in Los Angeles. It was in California that Henry would find his wife, Anna Robbins from Ohio and Rosa would find and marry Charley. Life always seemed to find it’s way.

Sheriff Thompson found himself smiling, recalling those early days of the famed Frontier Days celebration. He wondered how she ever ended up with the likes of Charlie Coleman, a man who was no stranger to trouble or the inside of a jail cell.Thompson rushed quickly back into the present moment as Charley came to the door and stood behind Rose. Coleman had become a familiar figure in town. He had been trying without much luck or skill to make something of that small piece of dirt he and Rose had bought a couple years ago but it just wasn’t meant to be. Money ran out and he butchered another man’s property. Now he had to pay the price.

Thompson opened the screen door and took Coleman by the arm leading him away from any sanctuary the man may have found inside his home. “Charley, you’re under arrest for cattle rustling and butchering.” He glanced back into the doorway of the house toward Rose, now visibly shaken, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. Not really surprised, she silently accepted her husband’s fate. She watched as the the cold cuffs clicked shut on her husbands’ wrists. Thompson led him down the steps, across the snow and into the backseat of the car.  Without protest, Colman adjusted his body and lowered his head shamefully offering a barely audible  explanation, “We were hungry, sheriff.”

Thompson glanced back at the woman standing on the porch, wrenching a dish towel between her shaking hands. Knowing there was nothing more he could do for her, he focused his eyes squarely on the road ahead and drove away.

Rose stood on the front porch crying as the car slid down the driveway and out of sight. She had been the one to talk Charley into trying his hand at ranching and move with her, back home to Wyoming. It hadn’t worked out well. Charley was not above expressing his displeasure with his fists and had let Rose know many times how unhappy he had become in Wyoming.

Looking through her tears Rose allowed thoughts of freedom to enter her mind, in maybe a small way. She wondered how she could escape her husband’s wrath if she somehow rekindled her courageous spirit and left this place. Her mind raced forward to a safe place with her son in California. Just as quickly as her spirit soared out of Wyoming, fear and guilt would bring it back and once again she would find comfort and familiarity in finding yet another reason to stay with the man. It simply never occurred  to her that Charley was who he was and there was nothing she could have done to change him. Snow was falling heavy in a frenzied, sideways journey, rushing across the pasture and sticking to anything in its path. Mrs. Coleman knew there was little, precious time to bring her pony to safety and out she headed toward the barn for a halter. Grabbing the halter, she held it close to her body and disappeared into the cold, blinding whiteness.

Once back at the office, Sheriff  Thompson’s thoughts returned anxiously to the woman up on Green Mountain. His deputy had just returned to the office and was warming his hands above the fired up wood stove. “I had to bring Charley Coleman off the mountain today but his wife is up there all alone. Would you pick up some supplies and take ‘em on up to her? I’m worried about her bein’ there all by herself. The snow’s getting’ real bad and she’s gettin’ up there in years. Knowing the nearest supply store was several miles away from the folks who lived on the mountain the young deputy didn’t hesitate. He swaggered over to the coat rack by the door, grabbed his heavy green jacket, still wet and soggy, and headed back out into the storm.

The deputy loaded the car with several boxes of  food and supplies and drove back up the mountain to deliver the package to Rose Coleman. “Oh, man it’s a comin’ down now.”  He took his hand and wiped the wet foggy mist away from the windshield. Slipping up the driveway and skidding to a halt, he was surprised to find the house empty with no sign of the woman anywhere, inside or out. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called loudly, “Rose! Mrs. Coleman!” Squinting, he  attempted to focus through any small space in between the barrage of blinding white flakes. He looked desperately for the woman loosing hope with each passing moment. Finally, he acquiesced to the cruelty and power of the storm.

The ride back to the office was devastatingly slow. Fearing the worst, he dreaded facing the sheriff with the bad news. Thompson’s words boomed off the walls and echoed throughout the office as he heard his deputy’s report. “Damn it! I knew I shouldn’t have left her up there.” The next day Thompson and two additional men returned to the ramshackle ranch to look, once again for Rose Coleman. Time and again he would make the trek back up to the harsh, loneliness of the mountain country, now blanketed with deep snow, hoping in vain to find some trace of her. Sadly, he would concede; Rose Coleman was forever lost somewhere on Green Mountain to the winter storms in the season of 1933. Charles Coleman pleaded guilty to butchering cattle and spent more than one year in the state prison.

Newspapers reported the missing woman as Prairie Rose Henderson. They reported  the world famous rodeo cowgirl was lost in a snowstorm and died in the Wyoming Mountains. They recounted her marriage to Charles Coleman and the report was carried by many national newspapers despite the protest by Henry Clayton, Rose Coleman’s son. In fact, the local paper even ran a story quoting Henry as saying, “It was not Prairie Rose Henderson,” but his mother, Rose Clayton-Coleman who died in that snowstorm. He went on to say “I’m sure the real Prairie Rose Henderson is quite surprised to be reading her own obituary. She is living in Burbank, California.” Still no one listened and the story of the death of the famous Prairie Rose Henderson persisted and gathered momentum.

Fog Horn Clancy, the famous promoter and rodeo announcer picked up the story and wrote about it in his column in Hoofs and Horns. Oddly, no report or story can be found of the many friends or colleagues of Prairie Rose Henderson who were to offer condolences at a funeral or graveside service. Nor could any words of remembrance be found in any of the many papers that had covered her every move and action at the various shows and rodeo’s she performed in. Close friends Mabel Strickland, Florence Hughes, Bonnie Gray and  Lorena Trickey said nothing and nothing was ever reported about any grieving family members. There was never any kind of memorial or funeral service for the great Prairie Rose Henderson. No official obituary. No death certificate. No coroners report.  Not for the great Prairie Rose Henderson. A woman died in a terrible blizzard in 1933 and Prairie Rose Henderson ceased to exist.Seven years later a fire broke out in the Green Mountains on July 17, 1939.

Charles Coleman was out of prison, putting his life back together and was one of the firefighters battling the blaze that day when a sheepherder named Martinez, also battling the flames ran toward him. “Coleman! Come over here quick, come now!” Charley could see the man was peering at something heaped beside a rock and he ran fast down the hill, kicking the hot, dry smoky dust into his eyes and sucking it deep into his lungs with every open mouthed breath he took. The sheepherder looked up and into Charlie’s eye’s as he rushed up, just within two feet of a small bit of half buried, crumpled blue material. Bones, barely recognizable as human could be seen within the torn trousers. His soul aching with the chilling certainty of what he was looking at, Charley couldn’t take his eyes from the gruesome discovery. It was all that remained of Rosa Gale, daughter of Ezra Gale from Bristol, Ohio. A.C. Clayton’s first love, Henry and May’s mother and his wife. Charley looked over, just to the right of the body and recognized the leather remnants of what was a pony halter. It was the one Rose had grabbed from the barn that stormy morning seven years ago.

“Ah, no. Oh, my Rosey.”  It was more guilt than sorrow that brought Charley to his knees as he wept beside her body.

The bodily remains were formally identified as Anna Rosa Gale-Clayton-Coleman by Rose’s son, Henry and her brother, Elmer Gale in the official coroners report. Cause of death was listed as “exposure to the elements. ”Unbelievably, amidst Henry’s very vocal protests, as well as the coroners report, newspapers across the country continued to report the death of Prairie Rose Henderson. Bold headlines screamed, “Body Of Famous Rodeo Star Found.” Finally, the world was convinced with absolute certainty the fate of  Prairie Rose Henderson and Henry Clayton returned home to California to grieve his mother.

Rumors spread that the skeletal remains of Prairie Rose Henderson were identified by a championship belt buckle she had won was still shackled to her body. Some say she had conquered her fear of storms and after her husband was arrested went out to look for her favorite pony to bring him to shelter. People would agree, “Yes, that does sound like the Prairie Rose. She did love those horses.”

Once away from the house, she became disoriented and snow blind and perished for eternity. It is curious that the famed rodeo cowgirl, Prairie Rose Henderson had many friends but not one came forth, as friends do in these times, to remember her and maybe even shed a few tears as they said goodbye.

No one came forward to claim the bones of Prairie Rose Henderson, World Champion Cowgirl and Saddle Bronco Rider, the Sweetheart of the Rodeo. Rosey Clayton’s tragedy was forgotten in the apathy of time just as completely as if it had never happened, there on Green Mountain.

The legend of Prairie Rose Henderson lived on in newspapers, stories, books, all continuing throughout the years to report the hard end of the great cowgirl up on Green Mountain, in a Wyoming snow storm.

Coast to coast news of her death shocked the fans who had watched her ride the pitching bronc’s, winning countless championships, dressed in her own remarkable creations of Mink, Maribou, ribbons, sequins, velvet and beads, always wearing her famously large Sombrero.

Knowing the true identity of the ill fated woman who died on Green Mountain, Rose Clayton-Coleman offers little comfort for, if it wasn’t Prairie Rose Henderson who died in that snow storm, what did happen to her? Why did she simply vanish, never to be seen or heard from again?  If she didn’t die in that snowstorm, what did happen to Prairie Rose Henderson? Why did she leave her great legacy behind in the west? – Shirley Morris

Stay tuned for Part ll – Prairie Rose Henderson – The Secret

Shirley Morris is a writer/filmmaker currently in production for the film, “Oh, You Cowgirl!” In 2007 her research took a 180º turn when the path led her to the true identity and story about the famed cowgirl of the early 20th century, Prairie Rose Henderson. The rodeo cowgirl known for her flamboyant, sometimes outrageous costumes and unstable, unpredictable personality, may have had a good reason for being unpredictable, there were more than three women who made up the persona and legend of Prairie Rose Henderson.

The best known and most photographed of the Prairie Rose characters turns out to be a true unsung hero of the west. An entire generation of cowgirls owe their career and ability to continue riding rough stock well into the mid 20th century to this woman who was matriarch of a family known as a “Rodeo Dynasty”.

Because of her research into the Prairie Rose Henderson Legend, “Oh, You Cowgirl!” will feature this very special woman in the hour long documentary to premier early this summer.

Well I skipped last Thursday’s Thankful Thursday.  The day just got away from me.  By the time I got around to thinking on gratitude I was drained and brain dead.  I just  thought for a few moments on all the things I had to be grateful for and hit the sack feeling bountiful.

Today, I’m feeling pretty drained again but do not have any jobs to do. A day off!  Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!!  Ha!  Like I don’t get enough days off…   I just seem to need this day to recoup. Thursday has become my Sunday. The day I reflect, and express, and rest, and heal.

Those of you who follow me on twitter and facebook already know that Celt’s Prophecy will be coming home.

Celt’s Prohecy (Pro) at 1 year in Arizona

Not sure when this will take place, but its definite.   Lots of details to work out but I am anxious. I must say after having to leave him behind and struggling through his mothers disease and death, after trying to leave it all behind, I am so thankful that Pro is coming home. I guess I made my own destiny when I started some 11 years ago to produce this colt. I thought I was working on the future of the Spanish Mustang breed. Seems though I was working on my future with one special horse. Instead of improving the breed, Pro has served to improve who I am and who I will become.

Short synopsis:

I bred quality Spanish Mustangs, individuals that many people admired. I saw a decline in a certain type and quality with in the breed and set out to do something about it. In the process and due to decisions I lost all but one of  my founding stock. A mare named Celt’s Kindlewood.

(Celt’s Kindlewood 3 months before being put down due to DSLD/ESPA complications)

She actually belonged to my daughter Heather and I  watch sentinel over the mare. Having done all the right things, allowing her to mature to 5 years before riding her, training her slowly over her entire lifetime, became one with her, giving her the best care. finding the right stallion to breed her to and acquiring him having negotiated for two years on related stock and waiting for his arrival for an additional year.  All very carefully executed. Having done all the right things its comes down to a colt who was to carry the torch.  Celt’s Prophecy – not the end result but the beginning of the future. A colt who will be gelded and become a backyard buddy. Why you ask?  Because after all that, Kindlewood came down with DSLD/ESPA, a degenerative systemic disease believed to be inherited.   DSLD/ESPA (video of the diesese) sometimes never raises its ugly head, or not until a horse is aged. However, sometimes it takes young horses by surprise. It took Kindlewood at age eight.  All my plans went out the window because I cannot allow my horses to pass this horrible painful disease into the breed.  I’m convinced that the breed already has its share of the disease floating through its DNA as does most all modern breeds and there is no way to test for it at this time to be sure.  It’s just safer to geld Pro, hope that he stays sound, and hope that others who discover the disease in their bloodlines will do the same with their breeding stock.

Kindlewood died Halloween of 2008 as an eight your old  mother of  the future.  Irony,  “Future”,  my greyhound died two weeks later.

Kathy Freymiller of Kickapoo Center Farm graciously took Pro from me to help me out.  I just was not able to bring him to Colorado with me. I had exhausted my resources trying to save his mother and was now in debt over my head. I thought Pro was gone for certain and my horse days were gone with him.  Then…

I get an email from Kathy, and my life has taken another turn. Just like that! Snap your fingers Pro comes home and things are different than they ever would have been.

Reborn…I seem to be reborn every few months lately.  Horses are back… but this time in a very different way. More like it was when I was a child with Chiefy, my gelding companion while I was growing up.  Pro and I will explore life’s gifts together. I get a second chance to  grow up. Only this time I have the wisdom to not “quite” grow up…

My old best friend Asad, during my grown up days, and his grandson Prophecy my new childhood cohort.  I promise we will be into all kinds of mischief. I promise not to grow up.

My senses are completely overwhelmed with gratitude.  I have been so humbled, I am so humble. Thank you from the very depths of my soul!