He built a fire, boiled some coffee, fried some corn fritters, beans and lean salt pork. They ate under a desert willow growing near a small spring.”
–R.O. Lane (Will Fain: West Texas)
Greetin’s Pard, hope yur doin’ fine. Been thinkin’ ’bout yuh this mornin’ an’ trust that yur gettin’ yur coffee somewhere or brewin’ yur own. Time’s shor does changes things. Not only does it affect my purty looks and enthrallin’ personality, but the way it’s brewed.
Gone are the days when I used to carry a pot and a bag of coffee in the ol’ steel mount. Gone are the times when we would eat out lunch on the road an’ I could brew up a small pot. Gone are the days of a sterno stove or the little tripod for a hexamine tablet. The ol’ starter’s startin’ harder, an’ the ol’ gettin’ is gettin’ got.
Gone are the days of ridin’ up to the high country, doin’ some fishin’ an’ brewin’ coffee over a fire or the Coleman. Bacon by the lake, along with eggs, biscuits, and strong coffee are part of the memory now. Good memories! Gone are the times of sittin’ in a tent, sippin’ coffee and listenin’ to the rain beat on the canvas or watchin’ it hit the once burnin’ campfire causin’ it to sizzle.
May yur belly never grumble,
May yur heart never ache,
May yur hoss never stumble,
May yur cinch never break.
May yur coffee always be strong,
May the pot never go dry,
May you continue to amble along,
May yur table always be filled with plenty of pie.
The Lord be keepin’ yuh ’til our trails cross again. Ride tall in the saddle, don’t be takin’ no wooden nickels, remember, not only is the Lord directing yur steps along the trail He is already around the bend ‘for yuh get there.
Vaya con Dios.