Tuesday, September 08, 2015

Monday : Dusty

Cookies.




Cookies are good.





Reading up on Great Horned Owls.
Naturally.

Making comedic "If dogs could talk" videos.



The rosewater is done. 
I see a beautiful, clean house in my near future.

Making.
Him,

 Me.

Let's go.


Eric got to choose where we were going, today.
He had somethin' on his mind.



This was the first time I jumped the fence to go in.
I had to--I've wondered for a couple of years if that's a hitchin' post (for horses) in front of that building.
It is. 
[Swoon]



Maddie waited for me.







Aah.
Maybe not a whole herd, this day,
but one.
One lone wild horse.
That'll definitely do.



Pronghorn.

Pony Express Trail...
Station #87.
1860 - 1861.


I love the rich, glamorous history of England and Scotland,
and I love that my sisters both live in 200 year old farmhouses in Maine,
but I love maybe even more that just a little over a hundred years ago this land was still the wild, wild west.


And still is, in some ways.

My gang.





Our day was filled with upside-down, head-in-the-sand beetles,
and cottontails,
a coyote,
antelope,
and snake and scorpion hunting.

It was full of wonderful, enlightening conversations,
and loving each other.

It was about listening to the silence,
calling softly to coyotes,


and listening to the Great Horned Owls call from far off in the trees.


Simpson Springs Station



On the way out, back toward home,
it was about star-gazing and the long, long stripe of the Milky Way
and What If's.



Our day was about loving this land,
and loving this Life.

That will always do.

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