I have the keys to the Kubota, to the skid-steer, to all things mechanical, and hence a hero when my grandson Cutler comes—my second chance to emphasize what I might have missed with my own kids, or a chance to share what has only become richer with time. I have that obligation as a parent, as a grandparent, to expose him to this larger, fairly foreign world of huge and cute creatures in tangled spaces. He’s three.
Robbin and I are essentially babysitting for a few hours while checking the 1st calf heifers, getting a count to see who’s missing, then locating her to see if she’s had her calf or not. The heifers have set-up their nurseries, his mother runs a day care center—these pastures full of maternity.
drycrikjournal 
no doubt those keys would have less appeal and a different meaning if they belonged to someone who wasn’t such a good man and loving grandfather.
Cut wants to let you know he really loved the “green water with moss around the rocks…” why does that sound so familiar???
Big love! mando
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