Don P. is working on repairing some carpentry stuff around my house. Don is a great guy…hard worker, raised on a farm in South Dakota, where you pretty much learned about life from the crops, the critters, and the neighbors. Me too. Don feels that those “old times” were the best. “Everthins’ gawn ta Helll inna handbaskit!” Don tells me.
Me? I’m slipping biscuits to the neighbors dogs, who give me much love. I don’t know if I agree with Don…this feels pretty good, standing out here in the yard, hanging out with dogs.

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