RIDING AWAY, curiously, I recalled the grandma-type who lived down the street while I was growing up. Rose Carah (née: Wild) was her name.
Well into her 80s, with a mother’s touch and wisdom, she'd round up the neighbor boys, offering us store bought cookies and Kool-Aide because we'd listen to her Bible stories. But the Bible wasn't her only source of material. More than once she told us of visiting these very springs as a little girl. "Rode in on backboards and wagons. Tethered the stock to posts and slept out under the stars for a good week or two."
|"Church" file photo*|
...and my train of previous thought just sorta went away.