Baxter Black

We were watching The History Channel at Grandma’s casita. It was a story about the USS Enterprise being attacked. It was 1945. They were describing acts of heroism that occurred.

Yer not gonna keep ’er, still, are ya Dad?
She must be twelve years old.

I reckon she’s closer to fourteen now,
And naturally half-polled.

It’s fall on the cow outfit.

Time to get out the WD-40 and grease up the handles on the squeeze chute. Maybe find the three or four syringes that work, buy some new gaskets and barrels along with a box of needles.

This is my wife. She does the books.
I do the important stuff,
Like mend the fence and check the cows.
She makes sure the income’s enough

Talk about takin’ a beating.

I stood on the porch at Dale’s horse farm and soaked up the view. It was deep springtime in west Tennessee. The grass was so green it hurt your eyes.

It’s funny how the world goes around. Francisco and I were checking cows, making a big circle early in the morning to beat the heat. It’s peaceful out there.