I took advantage of the nice spring weather and spent the better part of Friday morning, driving down a nearby county road. I passed this white horse.
And this lemonade stand.
A field of wildflowers.
A rusting propane tank, not unlike the kind I used as my horse when playing cowgirl as a child.
And some wheels that hadn’t been driven in years, better suited for the streets of Havana, Cuba than an antique car graveyard.