Bull snake sets off on morning rounds at the same time as Cowboy and I. Mustard family still well-represented on the mesa top. Dust-up on the hilltop to the south, a quarter mile away. It looks like the more familiar locals are chasing off a dark gray interloper. More of a familiar bunch, protected from …
Cowboy and I haven’t been able to see Sara for a couple of days. You know, all that stay-at-home and social distancing stuff. But we’ve gotten postcards. Here she is watching a sea lion on Animal Planet, a favorite TV show, with Rescue Dad Mike. And here she is all bundled up by Rescue Mom …
Five days now since the first three cases of coronavirus were confirmed in New Mexico, but it seems longer. It’s been several months since the initial outbreak in China and weeks since the pandemic overtook Italy. Spain and France are locking down. Restrictions on movement are tightening in the U.S. Even CNN pundits said Trump …
I won’t live long enough to produce meaningful tree ring data, so I’m not spending much time making a milestone out of 2020. I am trying to see things as seamlessly as I can. The sun rose on Redondo this morning as it usually does while there is still so much work to be done …
A month to go, but I’m here to give you a spring report. The looks of things change fast. The weather’s changing, too. Critters are doing their thing. It’s time for spring cleaning and maybe some home repair. Certainly there will be more bird-watching, conditions permitting. Maybe even a new selfie is due.
Happy birthday, Cowboy. March means you are three. The start of Daylight Savings Time seems like a good day to call yours. You are easy to associate with a lost hour of sleep. But I’m glad you are on my case. Your were a sick pup when you came. I’d say you’re plenty healthy now. …
At Cowboy and John’s, the new year resolutions are: 1. More lopin’, less mopin’. 2. More lit, less twit. 3. More César Millán, less carryin’ on.
The storm blew in. Tried to watch baseball with Cowboy in the front row. Looked like a perilous day for lingering lizards. Had to break out my winter hat, but saw the first cranes heading south. Weather couldn’t decide between rain or snow. Bluebirds came around, wearing down jackets. And others arrived to sit out …
Home, home on the range, where dream ranch is mine, mine, mine and editors can’t mess with my head; where mundane thoughts roam and publishers have no sway; where seldom is heard a disparaging word, and my prose is not cloudy for at least part of the day. (Photo of my sidekick, Cowboy, by our …
It is a stage of life when fondness for the Range’s linguine with basil cream sauce keeps me awake most of the night, but I doze the next afternoon to stretch my legs over the mesa in the evening with my young dog and see rain walking over San Felipe and Santo Domingo pueblos, against darkening …
dream ranch 