read the horsefarmers story today and it reminded me of a few things....
one of which is the wind off the Altantic Ocean as it streams down the street that my work fronts on.....damn cold wind with no breaks.....
reminds me of what TC felt this am when he ventured out to feed his stock....
as the mind works, my wonders from one idea to the next and in the flat lands of Oklahoma I recalled an ancient song the kid and I listened to on a long drive home one night from the Ozarks.....the lyrics follow:

Many a month has come and gone
Since I’ve wandered from my home
In those Oklahoma Hills
Where I was born
Many a page of my life has turned
Many lessons I have learned
And I feel like in those hills
Where I belong
Way down yonder in the Indian nation
Ridin’ my pony on the reservation
In the Oklahoma Hills where I was born
Way down yonder in the Indian nation
A cowboy’s life is my occupation
In the Oklahoma Hills where I was born

But as I sit here today
Many miles I am away
From the place I rode my pony
Through the draw
Where the oak and black-jack trees
Kiss the playful prairie breeze
And I feel back in those hills
Where I belong
Way down yonder in the Indian nation
Ridin’ my pony on the reservation
In the Oklahoma Hills where I was born
Way down yonder in the Indian nation
A cowboy’s life is my occupation
In the Oklahoma Hills where I was born

Now as I turn life a page
To the land of the great Osage
In those Oklahoma hills
Where I was born
Where the black oil rolls and flows
And the snow white cotton grows
And I feel like in those hills
Where I belong

Way down yonder in the Indian nation
Ridin’ my pony on the reservation
In the Oklahoma Hills where I was born
Way down yonder in the Indian nation
A cowboy’s life is my occupation
In the Oklahoma Hills where I was born


somehow this song always reminds me of the cold bitter wind that rolls over the Ozark Range during winter......thanks to Arlo and Woody Guthry for their skills