As I sit here in the barn, listening to snorting and stomping and swishing, while the horses munch grain and the hounds vacuum up the droppings, I realize how fortunate and blessed I am to be here. Especially at this time. I have the joy of living out in the country, just like my grandfathers did, but I have indoor plumbing. Texas has three of the most livable seasons in the world. And only one which makes me yearn for high, cool country. I can be out in a storm with the spirit of adventure that gives me a thrill, then come in, get a hot shower, put on warm, dry clothes, and sit by the fireplace and read a book. I can ride my horse when and where I want, but if I need to go five miles to town I crawl up in my pickup and drive on smooth pavement. I don’t have to harness the team and bounce on a rutted dirt track arguing with their “notions” all the way. If I get sick, we’ve got medicines that would boggle the minds of medicos in the pre-antibiotic era open (before 1941).

So, if I just stay away from television and radio news, and I don’t talk religion or politics with my occasional visitors, and I can convince a few horses to let me be the one on top, because I now have total faith in the laws of gravity and its effect on my pink body if they don’t, it’s pretty good being a rancher and a cowboy these days!