Land is my root... May 2018
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the expansive fields of Texas Ranch Life. Morgan's voice broke the tranquil silence.
"Hey Patrick..."
I glanced up from my camera, still immersed in capturing the day's events. "What's up?"
"Let's go for a walk."
A breath of fresh air sounded appealing after the day's sessions. "Alright, let's go."
We set off down the gravel road, each step producing a satisfying crunch beneath our feet. The oppressive summer heat began to wane, replaced by a gentle, cooling breeze.
"I’m determined to get a great photo of a longhorn," I said, scanning the landscape. "It’s golden hour—the perfect time."
"I think I saw them grazing in the field across the road," Morgan replied.
"Let’s walk down the road a bit; maybe I can get a shot." Ahead, a few colleagues had the same idea and were already exploring.
Refurbished Ranchhouse © Patrick Lee Hubbard 2018
Texas Ranch Life was a living testament to Texas history. The owners, John and Taunia Elick, had dedicated themselves to preserving a working piece of Texas heritage. John's appreciation for the land was instilled early by his father, Jerry Elick, who learned it from his own father, a Czech immigrant in the 1800s. This legacy of hard work and dedication was evident throughout the ranch.
Taunia had shared the ranch’s unique story earlier that day. She and her husband had spent years salvaging historic homes from the early 20th century. Each one was meticulously relocated and restored, preserving a slice of Texas history. These houses, once scattered across the prairie, now stood as rustic accommodations linked by winding gravel paths—proof of their commitment to breathing life into forgotten structures.
Horse Stables © Patrick Lee Hubbard 2018
As we walked, I spotted a majestic longhorn grazing near the fence line. "Look," I pointed out. "I’m going to try and get a shot." I approached slowly, framing the scene to exclude the fence.
Grazing Heard © Patrick Lee Hubbard 2018
The longhorn, however, seemed indifferent, its head lowered as it grazed. "She doesn’t even notice us," I muttered, disappointed. "This isn’t the majestic shot I had in mind."
Morgan, ever proactive, picked up a small pebble and tossed it near the longhorn to get its attention.
"Don’t do that," I protested, lowering my camera. Startling the animal felt intrusive.
"Why not? I’m trying to help you get your shot."
"Not like that," I explained. "She’ll look at me when she’s ready."
I've always felt a deep connection to the land and its creatures. As a child, I would lie in the grass, watching the wind dance through the trees, listening to the symphony of nature. This patience, this attunement to the natural world, was essential in moments like this.
I waited, camera poised, breathing in rhythm with the environment. After a few moments, the longhorn lifted her head, meeting my gaze through the viewfinder. It was as if she had granted me permission. I pressed the shutter, capturing the moment.
Our Moment © Patrick Lee Hubbard 2018
"Got it," I whispered, a sense of fulfillment washing over me.
As the days passed, I spent hours with the animals, immersing myself in the rhythms of ranch life. Each moment was a lesson in patience and connection, a reminder of the timeless bond between humans and the land.
Until next time, I thought, already yearning for the tranquil embrace of the Texas countryside.
