In other news and events

Cliff is going to the urologist today, his usual yearly checkup.  He did the PSA test last week at our regular doctor, to be sent to the urologist; he is one of the 15- to 20% people who happened to get the fast-growing kind of prostate cancer; 80% of prostrate cancers are slow-growing.  Every year that the PSA test comes back zero or close to it, we breathe a sigh of relief and continue with our lives.

And now I'll tell you about a horseback ride I took on March 7, 2007.

In 2004, I bought a Foxtrotter gelding, a brown horse named Blue.  He was not my first horse, but he turned out to be just what this old woman needed at the time.  I felt like he was almost babysitting me as  I rode him around the countryside for miles.  Riding a horse, you can hear birds sing and dogs bark.  accompanied by the clip-clop of the hooves on blacktop or gravel.  He and I had some adventures from time to time; I'm going to share some pictures taken about a mile from my house as the crow flies.  Our home is about a mile south of the Missouri River.  I used to ride west down a hill on 224 and turn at the first road going right; from there, I would ride to the river, riding all over the fertile bottomland.  There is only one house along that road that is inhabited now, but there was a deserted house where my women's Baptist Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Danner, used to live.  Any time I was riding past the house, I'd remember the late Mrs. Danner.  The house is very near the road, and I had assumed there was nothing there but that house, and maybe one outbuilding.  On this day I went up the driveway and discovered there were falling-down structures everywhere, as well as another house!  Almost like finding a ghost town.

The Danner House, seen from the road

The chicken house?

The outhouse!

Perhaps a shed where they milked a cow

Blue was patient while I explored

I never knew this house was back there.  I couldn't see it from the road.

When I first saw this cup I got the strangest feeling:  The flowers on it looked so delicate, laying outside a deserted house in the leaves left from the previous fall.  I pondered it from the saddle before I decided to ride through the woods toward home.

I was surprised to find road signs on paths through the woods that day; no doubt the four-wheeler riders put them there.  They don't ride down there as much any more:  they had been driving through the farmers'  crops all the time and were finally made aware of the fact they'd be in trouble with the law if they kept causing the farmers grief.  I had to smile at the signs, though.  There were others at different locations.

Here's a closer shot:

I rode the long way home that day, and couldn't forget about that fragile, broken cup laying among the leaves.  The next morning it was still on my mind, so I saddled up my horse and rode right back down there.  I wanted the cup for a souvenir, a keepsake.  It's a good thing I went and got it, because it wasn't more than six months before a man burned every one of those old buildings down.  I happened to ride my horse past as they were doing it.

I still have my souvenir, a chipped old cup without a handle that looked so lovely laying on the ground.  Even now, as I look at this picture, it feels as though it holds some sort of message to me.  A secret, perhaps, to help make the path ahead of me a little brighter.  I'll get it figured out one day.  If nothing else, it reminds me of the wonderful adventures I had with Blue.