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.
The dogs had a front-row seat to a father-son football game in the backyard last night. They witnessed the passes and fumbles.
As usual, the male seemed more interested in the game. Jemima paused briefly from her latest goal of digging a hole to China while Tonto looked enraptured.
It is so not on.