On Thursdays we share those Big Picture perspectives in our lives. Mine? Trails of time on a South Dakota Ranch.
My first saddle. My Grandpa Buster got this little saddle when he was 9 years old from his Dad. He was quite the horseman training the horses for the Passion Play in Spearfish for a time. He proudly passed his dreams to me with this saddle and my five little sisters and just a few little boys. Now it is back in South Dakota being used by two little cowgirls.
This winter, my Dad's horse fell on him and busted his leg. This was the ushering in of his retirement and beginning to hand over the reins to the next generation. A painful and long process beginning with the trailing of the cows into the home place to be loaded up and sold.
These are not just cows. They are years and years of one cattleman's life, love and blood, sweat and tears.
Good neighbors gathered and helped load out one piece of the this place's history.
The next generation that will take the reins of the place. My sister is on the left and nephew on the right.
The Trails of Time.
Beautiful. Precious. Fleeting. Never-ending.
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