Greetings, all, and welcome to the inaugural entry of my blog! I’m happy to have your company!

To kick things off I’d like to give you a little background. I’m a writer of poetry and fiction and a gifted procrastinator. I never met an anxiety I couldn’t internalize. My husband Glen is a real estate broker, welder, engraver, all-around fearless man-of-action and an absolute failure at procrastinating. After living in Austin, Texas for most of the 3-plus decades of our marriage, the two of us moved out to the country in 2015. It was one of those now-or-never moments, so we sold our city house and took the plunge. Glen had a lifelong dream of owning cattle, I did not, so guess what we ended up with? Right. A small herd of Black Angus. I’m a 10th generation Texan (my mother’s family got here long before it was a state) who’s afraid of cows. We’ve been living out here nearly a year now, and I’m getting used to them, but up close they still scare me. Cows are . . . quite large.

It didn’t help when Glen warned me early on (with a case history to illustrate, no less) that if I walk among the cows it’s best to shuffle my feet as I move, to avoid getting nudged off balance. Because once that happens, you’re much more likely to fall down, and after that comes the part where you’re pounded to jelly. Not that they’d do it on purpose, but it would be like getting knocked down by a small car, and then all the other small cars crowd around to see what’s going on and run right over you. I knew then that I’m living my personal golden years dream: trying to avoid death by cow.

Our bull, 44 Fully Loaded. He can flatten you with just a glance.

But . . . there’s no denying that this life can be soothing to the spirit. (If you don’t live near a meth lab, that is. In my one previous brush with living in the country, the FBI came knocking at the front door one day.) This time of year the pastures are very green, and the stock tanks are full of water and churning with fish. Watching the calves frolic is good fun. The yearling bulls, Larry, Moe, and Curly, are kept in a separate pasture from the girls they’d like to get to know better, and Larry’s love-struck bellows provide our musical entertainment. The small lake out back is a haven for extraordinary birdlife. On the whole, it’s a good place to be peaceful, and a good place to write.

So what will this blog be about? Anything, really. Some writing, some cattle, some recipes, some cool bugs and birds. I enjoy good bourbon and dirty vodka martinis, and occasionally I’ll post cocktail recipes concocted by me, or by friends and family. In other words, this will be a page of here’s-what-I-read/wrote/cooked/ate/drank/photographed/wondered-and-what-about-you? Please feel free to share your own experiences (or cocktails!) in the comments. If you have country living experience, share that too!

Thanks for stopping by. It’s good to have you!