"Harvard Comes To Montana" - Intermission
by Griz
umgriz@protonmail.com
22 June, 2024
Hi, Friends;
I'll be straight-up with you here: this isn't an actual chapter of "Harvard Comes To Montana". I'm posting this to say I'm alive and well-----but seriously challenged for time at present. Obviously that has been my recent history, too.
I'm sorry. We've had some bigger issues to resolve from mid-May to the end of June. My mind has been on all sorts of things that are, unfortunately, not Farm W or Team W. The more left-brain I've had to be on farm business et al, the less I've been able to be right-brain creative. Actually, I'm not creative at all; Jozef runs this show. I just write down what he tells me to. Just can't listen to him right now, but we'll connect again in July. Until then: please continue to show love to nifty.org. $/€/£/CHF 2.00 and more per month is affordable for many, if not most. But not all. Give what you can, please.
Until I hear more, this was shared with me this morning:
Marc has moved onto the farm, at least part-time, and into everyone's hearts. You know how I can say that? There's not one animal on Farm W who hasn't approached him with curiosity and stayed with affection in both directions. Okay, so maybe I anthropomorphize that a little bit, but it's true in this regard: none of them seem to feel threatened by my gentle, caring and compassionate Marc. Sebastian has made Marc feel welcome in the corral, where we both have brushed my Big Guy. Maybe it's the apples and carrots Marc can squeeze somehow into his Levis along with the rest of him. I think, no, I know: the only animal who wasn't a fan of Marc was old Cock-A-Doodle, and I will chalk that up to him not liking a cock bigger than him in the chicken run.
Yeah, so you already know: Jozef Wojtowicz can talk dick at the drop of a hat, and the breeze is always blowing my hat off my noggin. Maybe I was born to it. I sure don't want to blame anyone else---nor give them credit. Perhaps I was just observant of a spectrum more broad than visible light. I remember my horse, seven years ago.
Lightning Bolt was a randy colt, that guy. I took him to the horse show during the Central Montana Fair when I was ten years old. I guess that sensitive nose of his picked up the wafting aroma of a filly somewhere, and Bolt just started extending his substantial unit, bucking his hips and snorting. He was an equine Eighth Grader, dancing before he even heard the music. That wasn't, literally or figuratively, my first rodeo; I'd been in barnyards before. I knew what boy horses were capable of. I knew right then that I didn't want to find another boy, or someday a man, with what Bolt had; I just wanted one of what Bolt had. My wishes eventually came true: I got that later, and later, too, I got a man. My man. Got my farm, got my family, got my man. What don't I have? Nothing. I have everything I need, everything I want, and everything you wish you had, Bud.
Okay, well, I'll share more, and as soon as I can. I love that all of you like and enjoy "Harvard Comes To Montana", and want to read more of it. I want to share more. Please know that I will. I'm committed to that, as delayed as I may be.
I hope June is ending well for you. June is the month of worthy celebrations: Juneteenth, Summer Solstice and Pride all month long. Thank you for stopping by.
With all my respect and appreciation;
Griz