Spring is a busy time for cowboys. It is the time of round-up... Days that are fast disappearing as the cowboy life is increasingly viewed as politically incorrect. Nevertheless, I will always be fiercely proud to be the son of a cowboy. And, after driving 800 miles to the frontier with the wife of my youth, we have put aside the ways of the big city for the hard tack existence of the cowboy... For a week.

My sister, a cowgirl extraordinaire and ranch foreman, has given out the assignments for the day. I am to prepare the corrals for the cattle which will be arriving in about two hours. My wife will ride a horse today helping gather the cattle. I am secretly thankful my boots will stay on the ground today, because, even though I work out (almost) daily, I am too soft to ride horses in a working capacity. Tomorrow might be a different story, though.

I pre-flighted my wife's horse and saddle, helped her get on board, as she is very small, then reviewed a couple of things about horses with her. We only ride a few times a year, so I want to be sure to review the most important items. I was raised horseback; she was not. As the cowboys, er, I mean cowpersons, rode away, I began my assigned chore of preparing the corrals.

Overhead, a few contrails of high flying airliners winging across the deep blue New Mexico sky. I might know the crews... So amazingly cool!

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