a little trip down memory lane....and a lizard

This is Laura Marlow today....a new high school graduate...ranch girl....barrel racer from Eastern Oregon....once a neighbor of mine.  I haven't seen her nor been in contact since she was in the second grade.  Her mom sent me her picture and graduation notice. 

.... here are pictures I did of her  ...a colored pencil of her feeding a chicken, and a watercolor of her wearing Jack's hat.

This is a watercolor of chaps her grandfather made for her.  They were adorable...for trim, he cut pieces from a basket ball, so they had a pebbled design.

These are some pictures of Laura wearing the chaps. posing in our chicken house door.

and below she is eating lunch on a cattle drive break...the subject of a poem I wrote, but won't bore you with.

Now, I'm getting nostalgic and am going to add another picture or two.

The printing under the picture came from a calendar the family had made of one of their brandings.  Laura is tending the Rocky Mountain oysters....the first, and last time I ever tasted them.  They're ok if you're on your fifth day of no food.  These came straight from the cow to the fire...tended by a 7 year old with suspect fingers....maybe that's how you're supposed to savor them...I just figured the temperature would do any sterilizing.

This was during the branding...She was all over any horse left standing by himself....she'd shinny up somehow.  One of my favorite pictures of  her.

I was fascinated by Laura's life, because it's exactly what I asked God for, and he dumped me in the mean streets of Detroit.  What on earth was that all about?....I'd have made an amazing cowgirl.

Ok...change of subject.

Out on the left hand corner of my fishpond...northwest corner if you have a directional gene, there is a little gray lizard.  He lives down under the rocks....has been there for a number of years, so I imagine it's pretty nice by now.  Anyway, you aren't going to believe this since you are so well grounded, but I think he's an evolving lizard.  He's not afraid of me, or my voice, or my shadow crossing over him......he sits on his roof and tips his head and looks me straight in the eye.  Obviously I'm supposed to say something, but I become tongue tied.  It's embarrassing, .....I feel like I'm letting humans down, or something.  I wind up stuttering...H..H..Hi, there...it's a nice morning, isn't it?...when I'm sure I'm supposed to say something important enough to be written on the moon.  Well, I just thought I'd mention it.