Hawked the Irish Wolfhound looks up at me as we cross the pasture west of the range. Since he now weighs about the same amount as I do, Abby and I bought a “German collar,” to which he has responded well, and which helps me maintain control when he wants to chase a rabbit or squirrel.
My friends know that my wife Abby and I live on a sprawling acreage of the bucolic splendor of southern Oklahoma.
Now that a hard winter is at hand and the ticks and poison ivy are no longer a factor, Hawken the Irish Wolfhound and I have broadened our daily, and sometimes twice daily, walk route, to include all four corners of the property.
The route is about a mile, and varies slightly depending on what we want to see.
The west end of the patch borders with the Palmers. This path leads from the fence east to the oil well.This old truck has been on the northeast corner of the Palmer’s place for as long as I’ve lived here, more than 13 years. I have photographed it several times.Hawken looks around as we head west along the north property line.The folks to our north have a good-sized lake. I sometimes hear them shooting their guns at it.This is the oil lease road that leads to the well.This is “Great Rock,” an outcropping of travertine where Abby’s daughter Chele played when she visited her grandparents, George and Dorothy, when she was a child.Ice clings to a fence at our neighbor’s, the Nipps, house after their septic aeration system sprayed it.
Hawken and I always have a great time. I never need to be reminded why I love living in the country.
