The post below is from March 10, 2013. I'll be making the same trip today, and maybe I'll go across
the condemned bridge just for hoots. If you don't see a post tomorrow, you'll know why.
There are two ways to get from the 7MSN to the highway – the rough and rocky road or the rougher and rockier road.
Yesterday, Smooch and I chose the later just 'cause we felt like it. Turns out it was a good decision.
Smooch: Pronghorn at 3:00. Slow down and pay attention.
Me: Have I told you today what a good co-pilot you are?
Smooch: Cut the chit-chat. They're crossing back over the road and you're going to hit them.
Me: Smooch, look up there, at the top of the cliff right below the tree.
Smooch: What? Where? I don't see anything.
I didn't either for the first 6 or 7 years I lived here, then one of my houseguests pointed it out.
There's a cross up there. I'm not sure of its significance. Maybe it marks the grave of some cowboy or outlaw.
Let this be a warning to my next houseguest ... bring your hiking boots, we've got some explorin' to do.
Anyway, onward to Walmart we went, up and down the long and winding, rougher and rockier road.
We hoped to make it home before it got snowier or muddier.
As we rounded the last bend, we were greeted by some friendly cows who ran right over to us.
Their rancher and I must drive the same color truck.
They seemed very disappointed that mine was not dispensing any feed.
I wanted so badly to remove the cholla from this cow's nose,
but she looked pregnant and grumpy and I didn't want to cause a stampede.
How now, Little Brown Cow? You've been photo-bombing all my pictures.
Clearly Little Brown Cow is a media whore...
but she has a lot to learn from this gal, who knows how to pose
and could melt the lens with her penetrating gaze.
I was so preoccupied with making the big girl look her best...
...that I failed to notice her media whore daughter walking into the picture.
Little Brown Cow: Love you, mom.
Big Horned Cow: I love you, too, darlin', even though you look like your father
and didn't inherit my horns.
I'm not a cow person, but these two had me at hello. Then Smooch reminded me
that cattle rustling was a hanging offense in New Mexico and we'd best get on our way.
Only one more obstacle now between us and the highway...the condemned bridge.
Unsure of what that meant exactly, I called them and the conversation went something like this:
Me: Why is the bridge condemned?
State D.O.T.: It's not safe.
Me: Will the bridge be closed?
State D.O.T.: No.
Me: Will the bridge be fixed?
State D.O.T.: We don't have the money.
Me: Will you put up a sign warning people that the bridge is condemned?
State D.O.T.: No.
Me: How will people know that the bridge is not safe?
State D.O.T.: By looking at it?
Me: You got that right.
Somebody recently installed a 10' piece of 2" x 6" on one section of the railing. Like that's going to help?
I would have taken more pictures, but I didn't want to press my luck.
Going to Walmart on Saturday is dangerous enough without having to worry about a bridge collapse.