Tending fine-fleeced Shetland sheep and a whole lot more on a small acreage in the Willamette Valley of Oregon
Friday, July 11, 2014
Dad ready for his daily farm-fresh egg on homemade toast
John Denver's lyrics don't fit here, but the poignancy of the song does. Yesterday we said good-bye to my folks, and I'm feeling melancholy even as I scramble to catch up on things that were put off during Cowboy Campmeeting and their visit here afterwards. My parents’ love, support and prayers are the "wind beneath my wings;" thank-you.