Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
I've always heard you can't go home once you leave and make your way elsewhere. Contrary to popular belief I always feel like I'm home when I'm in this pasture. Maybe it's because very little has changed since I was a child. In a world where things change at a rapid pace, it's comforting to know that a few things are constant...
like toting bb guns in search of unsuspecting birds and jack rabbits.
There's a sense of homecoming when we get to the part of Texas where the land is flat and few trees block the views. It took years of living away from the Panhandle to get used to the trees...how can you see anything with so many trees in the way?
I love to watch my kids climbing the same windmill that I climbed while Nonnie watchfully stood nearby.
Only the climbers and the watchers have changed.
I know we spent hours exploring the pasture in search of treasure. Explorations often included looking for interesting holes and poking sticks in them to see what might appear. Once we approached a potentially interesting hole, and to our suprise, a coyote jumped out. I think that is the closest I have ever come to wetting my pants.