Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .

Friday, January 29, 2021

Small Leading


If you’re ever in the jungle, you will know that Jungle Law

Decrees (you’ve heard it) Lion is the king of one and all,

With Elephant upon his right—the brains of what they do,

It’s been that way for centuries, well, give a year or two.


But after a particularly trying pronouncement,

The Elephant had had enough, sought Lion in his tent,

He said, “We need new leadership. Your subjects don’t want you,

It’s time for change, my folks are angry. They will stage a coup!”


He added, “I have had a thought and it will be a thrill!

Let’s use our wits to choose up sides, then have a game of skill!”

The Lion nodded sagely, “Sir, your challenge I accept,

And thanks for your idea of this daring new concept.”


“A game of football, I propose. We each will choose a side,

And demonstrate our leadership and strength, along with pride.”

The Elephant agrees. And Lion chooses for his first,

The speedy cheetah, sure to give the other team his worst!


The Elephant then counters with the rhino, large and tough,

He knows with that guy on his team, he’s sure to have enough!

The draft continues back and forth, past chimp and through gazelle,

Down to the very smallest of the jungle’s clientele.


And then they started. Lion got the ball, went all the way,

A touchdown! And the game had barely gotten underway!

But when the donkey kicked for field goal, Rhino nabbed the ball,

And reenacted Lion’s team’s first goal (passed one and all).


It went like this throughout the game. Yep. Back and forth they blew,

Till fine'ly at the end and tied, each wanting to break through!  

But once again, the Lion scored, and once again the kick

Was caught by Rhino. And his final run was hard and quick.


But somewhere there between the lines of twenty and of ten,

Ol’ Rhino tripped and lost the ball, Lion pounced upon it then,

And just like that, the game was won and Lion was decreed,

The rightful king. And Elephant and all his friends agreed.


Amidst the celebrations, Lion thought about his luck,

Then went out to field where the Rhino hit the muck,

Found, battered but still quite alive, a tiny centipede,

A creature unknown for his sports ability (or speed!)


“Did you trip him?” Lion asked. (The insect on one paw),

“Yessir,” his small friend told him. Lion said, “I’m filled with awe!”

And then King Lion realized just what had happened, when

His team had won the battle. It was Centipede, his friend.


“But if you had the skill to do that at the very start,

Why wait until the end? You’re very hard on my poor heart!”

The centipede just smiled, said, “I'm sorry for your blues,

“But you know it takes some time to finish tying all my shoes!”


There is a moral here beyond a simple jungle game,

When choosing who would lead you in your future and to fame,

It isn’t just the loud who’ll gladly give you their two cents,

Sometimes it is the little guy who’ll make the dif-fer-ence!

Today's a challenge--po-et-ry,

We're having fun, my friend and me,

And you get rhyming all for free!

Now you've read mine, so go and see

The other. I know you'll agree,

It's everything a poem should be!

Karen of Baking in a Tornado

Thursday, January 28, 2021

The Bench at the End of Pederson Street


My Husby and me, when our walks are complete,

Well, we both need somewhere to rest our poor feet,

So we two make our way (in a manner discreet),

To our bench at the end of Pederson Street.


It is peaceful right there and the sun, we do greet,

We watch people go by, casual or athlete,

Yes, from there we watch life, it seems pretty complete,

From that bench at the end of Pederson Street.


We talk of the past and the memories sweet,

Of those days—what we’ve learned in the world, bittersweet,

Of the triumphs (they’re there), and the breakthroughs complete,

All discussed on that bench on Pederson Street.


Diseases removed and some new ones to meet,

A wide-reaching pandemic with terrors replete,

And a host of world problems designed to defeat,

Covered best on the bench on Pederson Street.


When climatic changes, our planet mistreat,

Disasters of nature, or manmade appete,

When the natural world thrums like a drumbeat,

We’ll solve all on that bench on Pederson Street.


A bunny hops by, leaving tracks small and neat,

A soft breeze wafts on through and it smells warm and sweet,

There is peace come to life with no trace of deceit,

And we see it all there on Pederson Street.


If it’s peace that you lack and you feel incomplete,

And this life’s become worrisome, don’t state defeat!

There is peace and a place for you here. Take a seat,

On our bench at the end of Pederson Street.

Wednesday, January 27, 2021

The Leading EDGE in Home Security

We were visiting/staying with my husband’s sister at her home in the country.
Surrounded by acres of Adventure.
Our kids loved it.
They had worn themselves out running outside.
Created worlds with Lego inside. 
And were finally tucked into their respective beds.
The visiting adults had visited a while, then followed their example and were peacefully snoring.
My Husby and I were on the hide-a-bed in the family room.
All was quiet.
I should explain, here, that the family room was situated at the top of the stairs.
That the master bedroom was down said stairs.
And that anyone wanting to use the bathroom would have to walk through our room, between our bed and the only source of light in the entire house, the glass patio doors to reach the only bathroom in the house.
Back to my story . . .
I heard a noise.
As the mother of six, I was instantly awake.
A floor was creaking.
Someone was coming up the stairs.
An adult-sized figure materialized out of the gloom beside me making their slow, careful way towards the bathroom.
For a moment, they were silhouetted against the patio door.
Then they disappeared.
I’m not making this up.
They disappeared.
One moment they were there.
A black cutout against the lighter door.
And the next . . . gone.
I sat up.
“Who’s there? What happened?”
My whisper sounded loud in the stillness.
My Sister-In-Law’s voice from the end of the bed, #$%&! Lego!”
The figure reappeared, rising up from the floor.
Its gait subtly altered, it continued towards the bathroom.
Lego is the best, most imaginative toy ever, but those who have had the misfortune of stepping on one of those little blocks with an unprotected foot know the pain.
We weep with you.

P.S. I've just had an amazing thought! Spread Lego blocks around the house for defense. As long as the enemy approaches barefoot, you've got them!

Monday, January 25, 2021


 As a bit of a precis…


A member of the Bourgeoisie,

My ride I called Calliope,

Centurion, officially,

A sport coupe—early ‘70s.


We had such fun, were so carefree,

Ripped up the roads from A to B,

Music screaming like banshees,

From bush party to bush party!


Filled with fine teenaged esprit,

(But also strength to some degree…)

E’en went ‘sparking’ (Oh, dear me!)

In the shade of some old tree.


The chores were done, I grabbed the key,

An evening’s fun was meant to be,

But first some fuel from gas tank ‘three’,

Or was it ‘one’? Oh, Lord, help me!


Decision made, this devotee,

Filled half the tank, then turned said key,

The engine knocked alarmingly,

“Need gas, not diesel,” my Sweet Pea!


With fortune smiling at my plea,

(I’d filled it just half-way, you see)

“Top it with gas,” my dad decreed,

Said, “Burn it off!” to Bro and me.


Adventure followed, some whoopee,

Car pounded like some timpani,

Cruising ‘Main’, the sights to see,

With all our friends. So young. Carefree.


My sweet car aged despite my pleas,

The two doors sagged to vast degree,

Her parts no longer guaranteed,

And way past her own warranty...


Calliope went across the lea,

Retired, spent, discharged, set free,

Replaced by new and great. ‘Gutsy’,

But never quite the same. To me.

Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So JennyCharlotteMimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?
Next week, we'll write (You will be awed!),

Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?
We'd love to welcome you!
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My very own Humorous Blogger Award From Delores at The Feathered Nest!

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