Life has been a remarkable adventure trying to reach a distant horizon
that we all face. I have yet to complete the journey and never will, for a horizon is an illusion that cannot be conquered and truly I am glad for no longer would I dream.
A small meadow where wild turkey and deer can be observed
The access to my blog chaged for some reason and I have been unable to post anything on it. I really don't know how but I am back. I do wish they wouldn't keep changing things.Winter again blew in for a few days with ice, snow and a bitter cold wind. I don't mind it too much, but I am always concerned about the wild critters out there trying to survive. I believe I have mentioned sometime back of a cedar forest that is situated west of my home. It lies unbroken for about two miles to Indian Creek. It is an expanse of beauty that cannot be accuratly discribed. Several days ago I decided to open up a place near K highway so Heidie and I could walk along an old road that wanders through it. I trimmed a tree or two along the road to make it more accessible and after several hours I completed the task and wow. Heidie and I now have our own personal road. I don't care for walking along the highway for most people will not slow down for anything.The road and surounding are is quite, where wild turkey and deer can often be observed. Heidie loves to track them, no further out than her leash of course. Deep depression can still be seen along the way on both sides of the road where a hundred years ago lead mining took place. Most of the depression have trees growing in them at the present. Large grey stones are scattered along each side of the road, perfect places to stop and enjoy a cup of coffee.Cedars by nature are quite, but can be heard whispering in the wind, perhaps revealing old secrets. In my opinion one should never speak aloud in respect to the multiude of cedars along the way. This place as far as I am concerned is a tresure and great care should be taken not to change one aspect of it. Adios.
I was born on a cold, windswept morning, October 21, 1935. I shared my birth with my twin brother, Donnie. We were a fragile pair, weighing at approximately 2 lbs 5 ounces each. Born at seven months and not expected to live through the day. If not for the warmth of a wood burning stove and the infinite kindness and wisdom of a neighbor woman, we would surely have perished. The old homestead farm lay along the south bank of the Dousinberry Creek, three miles south of Long Lane, Missouri. This beautiful part of the Ozarks became my playground. Early in life I developed a deep appreciation for the land, it's people and the rich heritage that has led me many times into the past.