I drove to the farm yesterdy to pick up fresh milk. The route there is down gravel roads that meander through miles of cattle ranches. Since I had to drive slow, I told the boys they could roll down their windows.
They were chattering away for a few minutes and slowly became quiet. Now and then one would say how beautiful something was....point out a flying hawk....angus cattle roaming freely over miles of grass land.
Then we arrived at the farm. The boys got to play with Misty the huge farm dog that loved them as much as they loved her. They chased her through plowed dormant fields and then she chased them.
I talked to the owners and paid for my 4 gallons of milk and pounds of shelled Texas pecans and almonds.
Then we headed home. Back through the fields of grass. The boys began to talk about how old time cowboys lives in the wild west. About the time we pulled back in to my driveway, their dad called to ask them what they wanted for Christmas...and their answer? Cowboy hats, belts, wranglers and boots.
Their is something about wild land that speaks to a child's soul. I remember wandering the hills of West Virginia in the late 60's and my spirit was at peace. At no other time was I truly at peace.
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