Maggie's Farm

My grandfather was a geologist and loved roaming such areas. Fortunately, he took us on many vacations that opened our eyes to such indescribable peace and beauty. One such trip took us to the very remote mountains of northern New Mexico in the late 1950's where he said a prayer and recited a Kipling poem (L'envoie) over the grave of a prospector who'd died the winter before. They had met in the 1930's when he traversed the area by horseback looking for opportunities for the gas and oil company that employed him.

That area is now a commercial ski resort and my grandfather is buried in a cemetery next to my grandmother in a suburban Midwestern town amenable to my folks, but I think both he and his lovely wife would prefer to share space with your father.

You've reminded me that time is awastin'. My kids and grandkids are returning from, hopefully, their last tour abroad with the Army, so our next road trip will be that border area between NM and CO. Little hairpin turns that take hours to traverse. Tree lines -- that's where I learned about tree lines. Quaking aspens. Fishing cricks with bread balls. Collecting samples of minerals and such from the washes. Good memories.

BTW, what part of the Gulf? Though I live up north, Rick and Bubba of B'ham fame are my go-to program every morning. Keeps me grounded.