Wednesday, August 6, 2008

More bones?


Guilty. I confess I am a sucker for bones, antlers, sheds, arrow-heads, rusty horse-shoes— almost any remnants of the past.

Y'day on my ranch visit my neighbor gave me a rack that his uncle had shot in 1959. "I can't keep everything!" was his excuse. Feeble. Hell, I keep everything! What's his problem?

Anyway, it lives with me now.

And my little Boston Terrorist says, "Get RID of it! I hates it lots!"

But what does she know?

1 comment:

The Hermit said...

If you get a chance, post some more pictures of your set up and the terrain. Those are really interesting. I gave serious consideration to moving to the SouthWest or the Great Plains when I got out of the Marine Corps in 1986, but came back to Georgia so my kids could be raised in the South.