Sunday, November 1, 2015


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There must be some law that says Saturday is a work day. I picked the late apples, and then my yard service had to cut half the tree away. Sprinkling system watering isn't healthy for trees.
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 Maintaining spindly second-growth live oaks has always been tough. Jerod is using a pole saw at least 30 feet long.
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Jerod and Dave, a father and son duo, backed their rig all over my yard and picked up piles of trimmings from months back and hauled it to the yard waste. My biggest challenge this morning was figuring out how to downsize pictures in my resizer. Less time to load them. Somehow they seem friendlier.
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Laurie and Ken came by. They stopped at the "new" restaurant in town called the Lucky Penny and bragged about the quality of the food and drink. Located in what was once the Nugget, had me bursting with memories of events that happened there. (Another blog). Jim said sunny days are on the wane so they decided to put the top down.
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Pretty cool, man!
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It's a 1969 Mercury Montego and so long I could barely get it in the frame. All it needs is some dice hanging from the mirror.
 I reread my fast breeze through Texas. I hit the high spots, missed some and didn't give much flavor of the place. An old Texas saying  was coined around mid-1850s in South Texas. The Nueces Strip was notorious for outlaws, thieves and bushwhackers. The only way a man could be safe was to ride the trail with a loyal partner. From this time and place, the saying "He'll do to ride the river..." became the highest compliment one cowhand could pay another.

He'll Do to Ride the River
LaBree and I were partners, we shared a common trail.
We were friends and confidants, we kept each other out of jail.
I remember back last winter, he nursed me back to health.
It's a memory that I treasure, more than a rich man's wealth.
He put down my old sorrly that I'd had for fourteen years.
He knew I couldn't do it and ignored my childish tears.
Many a log we burned while riding open range.
We cut the barbed wire fences, we both resisted change.
We protected one another, it was life insurance then.
I was a lucky man to count LaBree my friend.
He never let me down, he covered all my bets.
Now my compadre's gone and I have but one regret.
I never told you how I felt so listen up LaBree.
You'll do to ride the river, I hope you'll say the same to me.

By Michael Darden Dowd.  (Published in the Stockyard Gazette.)

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