Did you expect a cowboy?
Actually this is Bill, our ever faithful neighbor, and a cowboy in his own right. Bill was heading off to the trail behind our house. The trail winds into the woods and down to the creek, where his son and a friend were fishing. Dusk was settling in. Bill wanted to make sure the young men made it home safely.
Bill is the kind of person who would absolutely give you the shirt off his back and the food in his refrigerator, loan you his truck to move furniture and be there to help you unload when you got home. I try to send food or baked goods over whenever he and his son have spent the day helping with some yard project. Bill will not accept money for his help–and he’s helped with some mighty big projects, without ever being asked to do so. He kind of appears when he hears a tractor or chainsaw running.
He is a great example of why I love being in the country. I lived in a surburan area for many years and really only knew my neighbors well enough to wave at. I could, however, hear all their music, their televisions, and their lover’s quarrels, as well as the toilets flushing when windows were open on hot summer days.
I live in the country now. I can’t see any of my neighbors, but I’ve met most every one of them and know their names. That includes the ones a half mile down the road. No one ever bothers you, but I imagine any one of them would show up in an instant if you needed help.
Bill tried to get me to jump in the back of that thing, but I am not a cowgirl and was having no part of it. Its a steep hike down that trail, which I don’t mind–but I couldn’t fathom speeding down it with Cowboy Bill, or flying back up with two teenage boys, their fishing gear, and the dogs.
I passed–but as I was snapping this picture, Bill was turning around to tell me I should go take a picture of the waterfalls on his property–which I hope to do sometime in the next week.
Thanks Bill, for everything.