At Least They're Committed

Hiking up the killer hill every morning, sometimes again in the afternoon; dollar-sized bruise on the ball of my foot after tripping and stepping on a sharp rock while river wading; awesome; choking on the dust on the second ATV while giggling as we puddle jump going up Red Creek; pulling splinters from my knee; bug bites; turkeys in the field; viewing the 2003 devastation; viewing the 2012 rebirth; praying for rain; getting it; hunting cabin looks great; listening to the boys laughing and grossing out at 3 a.m.; finding out the next morning about their clean-up efforts concerning the dead mouse; watching them fish and not missing it; running with the dog and laughing; wishing I could be alone more often; mending fences . . . literally, they just fell down; quick naps; another trip up the hill; riding behind DS through the car and truck graveyard; wondering about the blue grass. I’d make a new video, but it’s pretty much the same as this one from 2010, only Jackson didn’t make it up with us. Praying you, my grandchildren, will get to spend your days hiking, ATVing, fishing, wading, shooting archery and doing nothing at the ranch. It’s in question. Second verse, same as the first. Been that way for 25 years now. It needs to continue for you. It’s why I hang in here.