Cowboy always feels better when we’re out walking in our front yard. I feel better when he feels better.
Cowboy always feels better when we’re out walking in our front yard. I feel better when he feels better.
Cowboy waits for our morning walk, watching for signals of boots, hat and inhaler, probably thinking that Sunday brunch is for dudes.
If I am the Ymelda Marcos of men’s outdoor footwear, Cowboy is the Butch Cassidy. Still stealin’ shoes after all these years.
Tests say Cowboy’s cancer has metastasized but he stills says nope to my tendency to mope. So we’re tryin’ to make the best of all days. And we’re lucky in Placitas to have friends and elbow room.
I woke up thinking of a stretch of Highway 395 in California, running up the Owens Valley between the Sierra Nevada and the White Mountains, a ribbon of road on brown earth under blue sky. I once worked there, from Round Valley down to Lone Pine. I remembered how hard it was to leave it …
(Click to open photos) Morning arrived bright and clear. We had breakfast and prepared for the day. Things started to change. Glad I washed the windows Friday night.
And I have retired from the water board, mostly tired of my own impatience.
First walk and photos with iPhone 14. The usual subjects.
dream ranch 