No country for old horses
I was in the Texas Panhandle for four days last week, for the annual reunion of my mother's side of the family. I've been back to Amarillo and the Palo Duro Canyon, where this picture was shot, every summer of my life, and I've never seen it so dry. In a part of the world where there's usually a fair amount of spring and summer rain, there hasn't been a quarter-inch over the last four months. I took a morning run from the tree-shaded family cabins to down by the old boathouse -- there is still some water in the muddy lake, though not much -- and all the horses that run free out there were huddled in the shade as the thermometer headed for 103 just past 1 in the afternoon. I love the Panhandle. Great people there, people who are truly interested in visiting with you in long, leisurely conversations, in trying to figure you out. We had 81 O'Brien cousins (that includes spouses and significant others) for dinner on Saturday night, with perfect barbecued beef from Bobby Moore and properly prize-winning pies from Emily O'Brien.