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Down on the Farm
I will never forget the first day that I glanced through the dining room window of my new home in paradise and saw a horse. Babygirl was 4 years old and we had moved out here at my insistence. Call it a following your roots thang or whatever. Our new old house had been inhabited by Mr. and Mrs. Council for as long as I could remember, and way before that. The wife had died about 10 years earlier and Mr. C had been batching it since then. It was a terrific challenge just to make the place liveable.....took about 6 months of heavy labor by me and my Daddy.

Imagine cleaning out the memories and trash of 10 years from an old man alone with his past. There was rabbit food in the attic, along with enough trash to fill up a dump-truck. I don't have a clue where the rabbits were. The full basement took 10 years to clear of the dirt and eclectic collections of an old horseman. The wooden work tables are still there, along with an occasional rusty horse shoe hanging on a nail. My dreams to play pool down there have materialized into nothing much more than a place to hide when the storms cross the Mississippi. Chalk markings on the concrete walls tell the tales of kids who laughed and cut-up and giggled their way to adulthood. There is a cryptic painted signature of the old man himself, dated 1960 something.

The landscape has changed a bit, because growin' shit is my passion. There's more trees and flowers, though there were plenty already thanks to Mrs. Council. Spring is prime time for her gifts....narcissus and daffodils and peonies. I've added to it over the years but I still marvel at what nature has done all on its' own. The road to home is lined with hundred plus year old pecan trees that drop a branch in the slightest breeze or hint of dampness. There's an asparagus bed, thanks to my ex. I plant tomatos every year.

Oddly enough, while the view from three sides is that of pure nature, the back side is a city golf course. There's not a whole lot of play there anymore because there's a private course in "town" that attracts the high rollers with sprawl and a clubhouse. Out here it's just hot dogs and cart rental. The late great Pepper was their mascot, in fact. Who could blame a blue heeler for going where they fed him and he got free rides in the golf cart with Charlie?

To be continued......
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