Each day here at the farm, I get outside bright and early. There's always that great sunrise. The clucking of the hungry chickens, and the squeal followed by a nicker from the horses......to the roaring train that blows it's horns often during the day.
Each morning I see the neighbor's white truck leave it's spot for his daily commute to work.....and the other neighbor with his truck as well. All the surroundings become fixtures of the land....same cars go by, same birds, to the same postwoman at 12:30 sharp each day.
Then there's the guy name Dusty....he would forever be on his little lawn mower tractor at four of the homes in the neighborhood that his relatives lives in.....he be mowing...... mowing...... and still more mowing. Seemed like everyday his was mowing. Waving to all that he saw.....and gave small talk to any body that cared enough to give him a "howdy".....then he go back to mowing.
He was a fixture for me. He was certainly part of the day. Well pass the age of 80......mowing and such each day without fail, I hope that I will be as full of life as he when I get pass that 80 something birthday.
This pass week, the lawn mower sits quietly. Dusty is no longer with us.
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