Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Making a visit


Today I drove over to a neighboring ranch to spend the day helping them clean out some of their outbuildings. The accumulation dated back a long way, and they said they were convinced it was time to make some headway against it. We had a good day, with good fellowship, lots of jokes (and some nostalgia) about what we were finding, and even shared that Good Tired feeling once the cattle trailer was loaded and ready for the dump tomorrow.

I like to visit these neighbors. Not only are they good people and good friends, the drive over to them is always an enjoyable adventure. They live ten miles away across the plains. The road over to them is actually more of a cow-path than a real official county road, which technically it is. There are plenty of places where it is better to simply veer off onto the prairie than stay on the road and quite a few other places where it simply disappears. 

On the way over and back I can see deer (mule and whitetail), antelope, buffalo, coyotes, and any number of other critters. Once, on my way back after dark following a great dinner, I was almost t-boned by a herd of antelope. But no harm done, to them or me.

Good neighbors and a good trip to see 'em. It doesn't get much better than that.

5 comments:

Roxie said...

I love roads like that. A route to a good neighbor where you get to see wildlife is a wonderful road.

Thanks for adding me to your blogroll. How do you get it to show the most recent post title?

Rio Arriba said...

Hi Roxie,

Thanks for your comment. It's nice to know there are real live folks out there.

On the page that allows you to add blogs to your blog list, you should see a selection of items you can check. One of them is to show the latest update. Another is for how you want your list to be ordered.

Good luck.

Anonymous said...

You are indeed blessed. A beautiful drive, with the land as God intended.

The Hermit said...

Ten miles is about the right distance. Close enough to be neighborly, far enough aware to avoid being irritated.

Rio Arriba said...

Our early westward-pushers (almost all Celts BTW-- more about that anon) thought that when you could hear your neighbor's rifle it was time to move on.