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On Friday evening we took a ride through the east pasture checking cows. The sky turned from blue to pink in front of our eyes and a small storm pushed through.We caught the breeze but didn’t get caught in the rain.
We caught the juneberries and the raspberries before the birds.
We caught Pops over the hill filling his mouth and his pocket and we were caught in one of the greatest things about living on this place.
Today I will attempt Juneberry pie because Husband packed his saddlebags and the breeze is blowing nice through the kitchen windows and it’s Sunday.
This is the kind of life I like to talk about. The kind of things I moved back here for. Sunsets and wildflowers and the sleek back of horses and fat happy cattle and Sundays and family.
These are all part of my reality.
But so is the dust…
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