You know you're on the Green family ranch when you overhear your husband and his brother dreaming on future property purchases and they contemplate, "But can you legally drive a four-wheeler to mom and dad's house from there?"
We are four-wheeling folks here. And fresh-picked apricot, cherry, and raspberry folks. Don't even talk to us about dessert. One day I ate Grandma Green's huckleberry cobbler for every meal. We are fruit-rich and savoring four more sleeps and our pick of three friends' swimming pools to beat the nearly 100 degree heat. Life is grand.
I don't think about the Tuesday morning fly-out. I think about Gus's sweet cousins (one just a week new) and the quail babies that have grown up since our arrival. I think about the mama deer at the top of the hill I hike every day, the Tour de France updates Grandpa gives me every morning, and the local Chardonnay in the refrigerator. This is a place where sitting and watching the mountain is mandatory and morning coffee on the deck can stretch into lunchtime (assuming the restless toddlers haven't hijacked the dog and gone lizard hunting by then).
(a typical morning on the job site)
(a farmboy, his dog, and both of their enormous feet)
It's understandable why being in four-wheeling range is so imporant.
