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Blog Posts (191)
- Ranches at Belt Creek
Hi Friends, How is your summer going? Do you have a special, big trip planned? Or, maybe a small, side trip? Jeff and I recently pulled off a side trip to the Ranches at Belt Creek, Montana. I say “pulled off” because we booked and canceled so many times it was a miracle that it transpired. We purchased the trip at a horse rescue auction a couple years ago. (Quick plug: The same auction will be held this year on September 15. Check out details here, especially if you’re a horse enthusiast.) Because we canceled the ranch trip more than once, there came a point where we thought the trip was a wash, a donation at best. We even almost bailed out while on the way there, in Salt Lake City. Our “host” hadn’t made contact with us (given the wrong cell number) and we were skittish by having a lack of details. While waiting in SLC we inquired about getting our bags off the plane and vacaying in Utah! In a matter of seconds we had a Utah itinerary: Drive 3 hours south to Richfield, Utah (parents used to live there) Then, to Provo, UT to see friends Check out Deer Valley But, the host made contact at the very last minute and we journeyed to Great Falls, MT as planned. The clubhouse and cabin accommodations at RBC are an authentic representation of cowboy, huntsman and western outdoor life. Personally, I was right at home with all of it. Secluded mountain homes, buffalo, mountain lions, antlers, horses, guns, trucks, Cherry Cream Soda, a 3-legged dog were all my dad’s favorite things in life. There was even a waitress, Jan, who looked, walked and talked eerily similar to dad's sister. Two pastures of horses spread out over a valley in front of our cabin. The horses (and one donkey) migrated to a vast, adjacent pasture every day. Jenny, the barn manager, herded them on an ATV along with her two dogs. Occasionally, a horse or two would stray but they didn’t go far and Jenny was never worried about them. A rogue horse could stay right where they wandered to. They wouldn’t venture far from the herd regardless of being able to. One aspect that brought us down to realty was when we got stopped by federal agents at the end of RBC’s private road. The agents were escorting a nuke. Seeing the monster bomb glide by was a bit of a buzzkill but made returning to Atlanta a little easier. If you live a hectic, big-city life I recommend the Ranches at Belt Creek. The atmosphere, terrain, hospitality and accommodations were a quiet get-away from Atlanta. But, it may help if you're a horse lover, cowboy-life fan...or in awe of being close to where many, major weapons are ready to be launched. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus - 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
- Horse Rescues Heal
Red Clay Ranch (RCR) Equine Rescue and Sanctuary is a fully licensed, 501c3 non-profit organization designed to offer rehabilitation and sanctuary to horses in need. Jeff and I visited one of our favorite charitable organizations: Red Clay Ranch Equine Rescue and Sanctuary, for the second time, this past weekend. Participating in a sanctuary that honors dignity of the animal that has served man in monumental ways (strength, determination, endurance, valor, freedom, travel, companionship, beauty, spirit, etc.) for thousands of years, brings humble joy. We had barely stepped outside the car when we saw our name near RCR’s “medical stall.” I was rendered speechless, literally. Is this why some people put “anonymous” in such instances? God’s name should be there, not ours. Have you ever been honored for something and felt unworthy of it? Imposter syndrome, maybe? Ironically, our visit yesterday went hand-in-hand with the “medical” side of RCR’s mission. The first horse that caught my eye was in a corral where rescues stay until they [hopefully] gain enough strength to join a herd. There had never been a horse in this corral during previous visits. This sweet boy’s name is Toby and it was love at first sight. As you can see, Toby was weak, down. Starved yet safe and being cared for. I offered Toby a carrot. He wasn't interested at first but eventually partook. Soon, he struggled to rise, expelling diarrhea, unable to stand. A vet was called. (Side note: Large animal veterinarians are becoming rare. Women are especially rare in this field. Here's an article explaining the shortage.) When the vet arrived she listened to Toby's lungs, checked his eyes, mouth, did her thing...ultimately concluding he had a bad belly ache. I felt miserable thinking the carrot I gave him caused his pain. How could I be so careless to cause Toby's stomach further upset? This was not my first rodeo! I knew better. But, apparently (thankfully!) I was not the cause of Toby's ill angst. Toby was given a shot of something that had him feeling better rather quickly. (His face covering is due to a cut on his eye.) Inevitably, I fell hopelessly in love with Toby. Now, we're buying a house closer to the ranch so I can visit him every day. Kidding. But wish it was true. What is true is that we're looking forward to following his progress and will help however we can to ensure success. In ancient Greece, horses symbolize wealth, prestige and power. Still today, they represent wealth, high rank and therapeutic friendship. For me, they represent joy…to give back. If you’re a horse lover or admirer from afar and would like to support or volunteer at a rescue, give google a quick search! Opportunities abound. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley The armies of heaven were following him, riding on white horses and dressed in fine linen, white and clean - Revelation 19:14 - Horse Rescues Heal
- Favorite Inheritance x2
Seems like yesterday that Dirty Deeds Junk Removal was on the premises of my parent’s house. As they loaded what remained of my childhood (which was a s**t load), I scanned the last remnants, hands shaking and heart pounding. The laundry room was near the garage. It was the last room to get “swept out.” An air of nothingness filled this room. Old purses, a 50-year-old hamper, iron, brooms, lightbulbs, batteries, miscellaneous Christmas decorations that begged the question: how in the world did they end up in this room. Pretty much junk. Ahh, but, one man’s junk is another man’s treasure? On the inside wall of the laundry room near the light switch, hung car keys. Two of the key rings belonged to my dad who passed away in 2017. Five years later the keys hung right where he left them. One was a “London” keychain that I brought back after a UK visit in 1980. The other key ring had his beloved Army dog tag hanging from it. In the early 1950s, dad was so proud to serve in the United States Army, stationed in Germany. His army dog tag stayed with him for nearly 70 years. Of the many things in my parent’s home, there are two that have more value than all else: The dog tag (bet you guessed that would be on the list?), and A handwritten apology to me from my mother (found in much the same way as the dog tag. Late in the game, by chance.) Though dad’s dog tag had been around a long time, I had never examined it or understood what the numbers on it meant. I was stunned to read: 2103302. Why? What’s the big deal? Our address for the past 32 years has been 2103. And, 33 is Jeff’s favorite number and 22 was mom’s. I know that’s just a bunch of trivia…but still…2103302?? The “O” in front of the numbers was dad's rank, Officer. T-51 indicates he had a tetanus shot in 1951. “A” is his blood type and “P” indicates that dad was a Protestant. I took this cherished dog tag to a jeweler and had a gold band put around the perimeter and a gold ring attached for a chain. The chain is custom made too. I dismantled a necklace that I didn’t like much and made it specifically for dad’s dog tag. Think dad is smiling down? My second favorite “inherited” item from my parents is a hand-written apology to me from my mother. Obviously, I won’t give the details. But here’s a snippet. (My cousin read it recently and left her mark of fingerprints in the upper left region :) Last winter, while sitting by a cozy, warm fireplace, I went through piles of cards, letters, papers…stuff…and came across this hand-written apology. I heard my mother’s voice clearly, succinctly, vividly. A God thing. Think mom is smiling down? Like dad’s dog tag, that came so very close to being cast in a landfill, mom’s cherished note came very close to going up in flames through our chimney at 2103. As many of you are, I’m blessed in pretty awesome ways. Though thankful for all, I’m especially thankful for the above two, favorite treasures. Moral of the story: If you feel and rushed and crushed, just do your best and trust God to handle serendipity. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley Luke 8:17 - For nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light.
Other Pages (3)
- Casual Reading Lifestyle Blog Art | Triangle Park ATL
Welcome to Triangle Park ATL About Triangle Park gets its name from a small ▲park that sits at the end of McKinley Road in Atlanta, Georgia where I (we) raised two daughters (Savanna and Diana). Years ago a huge oak tree took center stage on the small, postage-stamp-size triangle. I pay homage to ▲park by naming this webhome after it: www. Triangle Park ATL.com "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickley broken." Ecclesiastes 4:12 I'm an empty-nester mom staying digitally and diligently connected to my girls and you through art, photography and blogging. The best part of having an online home is you, the readers. Thank you for visiting! Shelley Triangleparkatl@gmail.com
- Photos | Triangle Park ATL
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