Daily Post, 12 June 2014
During my lifetime I’ve been many places, seen many things. A few amenities would have been nice to bring to my present location – the young man who pedaled his bicycle/piano around the streets of Eugene, Oregon, the town plaza with the public television located in Isabela, Puerto Rico, a town band once again performing in a gazebo.
However, I’m a country boy. I find pleasure in many things some folks fail to notice. One is the serenity of a golden wheat field the day before harvest begins. The squeaking sound of corn growing on a hot summer night. The scent of fresh cut alfalfa curing in the sun. The scent of sweating horses and new saddles.
But the image I recall most vividly stems from sixty years ago during a winter working on my uncles cattle ranch. It was located in the high desert country of Central Oregon near the town of Alfalfa. Each morning breakfast was ready an hour prior to sunrise. Setting at a large bay window facing west, I watched the dark silhouetted Cascade Mountains – Three Sisters, Broken Top, and Bachelor Butte each slowly turn crimson and then pink. By the time breakfast was finished and it was time to feed cattle they were stark white.
If I could, I would bring that window to Texas.