Hello, I don’t know if there has ever been a time in our corner of the Dakotas that has been so nice. Every morning there is dew on the grass, little or no wind, and comfortable temperatures.
By Dean Meyer
The evenings are made for having a cool drink on the deck and visiting with friends and neighbors. Unless, of course, you are lying under a hay cutting machine, with bugs crawling on your neck, trying to unlodge a bunch of grass and dirt from cutting through a wet mole hill. That can ruin a beautiful evening. Trust me dear readers. It happens more often than you know.
Last night, as I quit cutting hay, a neighbor invited us over for burgers and drinks. Now I had intended on going back to the field and working another hour or two, but what the heck. Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?
And I’m glad I went to the burger fry. As I’ve told you before, this time of the year is when cowboys and cowgirls are driving mile after mile. Sleeping when possible. Sharing rides when possible. And entering a ton of rodeos on the Fourth of July run. Which starts in late June.
At supper there were barrel racers and ropers who were attending the Dickinson rodeo. A great bunch of young people and younger kids.
There I met a young girl who was the highlight of my evening. It started over rabbits. Two rabbits. Cute little rabbits. But there were only two. And there were way more than two kids. So, a family squabble ensued. Whose turn was it to hold the rabbits?
“It’s my turn!”
“No, It’s my turn! I asked first!”
“You did not! I asked first!”
Well, being older and wiser, with decades of learning tucked under my big belt, I took control.
Now I am not a real religious person. By a long way. But I did recall a story from my younger days about how to handle this.
So I entered into this family fray. I simply said, “What we will do is cut that cute little rabbit in two, and each of you can have a half.”
I smiled smugly to myself. I was a natural teacher.
This cute little girl never even hesitated. “I get the head,” she hollered!
Damn. I hate cutting rabbits in two. Naw, I didn’t really.
Last week I wrote about clothing. And that brought up a story from a friend that grew up sharing clothing and wearing hand me downs from siblings.
The first time he was able to purchase a new pair of boots, the clerk asked him what size of boot he wore.
The cowboy pondered this a bit and replied, “Well, I wear from a nine and a half to a fourteen, but tens seem to be the most comfortable.”