On the other side
of Sunday school
and Old Testament tests,
we survived wilder times
with less rules. Today,
we take turns cutting calves
with meat on the fire.
At home in these board pens,
we can hear the old men
holler from Sulphur Ridge:
Dave, E.J., Earl and Homer,
chides, laughter and profanity
as we look back—
and up ahead we see
we’re somewhere in-between.
drycrikjournal 
Don’t get too depressed my friend. It has been one hell of a good ride…At least so far.
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Not depressed, it’s all new ground to savor and travel slower, learn what I might have missed along the way.
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Memories and tears, John! Your words can always evoke those emotions when you remind me of halcyon days gone by. It’s so hard to believe that E.J. John Britten left the corral and rode ol’ Doc over the ridge 22 years ago this month! I miss him every day. He would be so proud of the way you keep the old traditions laid down by earlier ranchers. But at the same time he would really admire the way you are moving with the times and running your cattle the “smart” way. He would tell you “Don’t weaken”! and to “Keep the faith!”
Merry Christmas to you and Robbin.
Love from Sophie
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Thanks, Sophie!
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Lovely photo and poem. Happy holidays to you and Robbin….
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Thank you, Heather, hope to see you soon!
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