Did you know . . .

. . . that today is Good Fences day? On the birthday of Robert Frost, celebrate the fact that good fences make good neighbors. Do something nice for your neighbors today. Frost, one of the great American poets, was born on March 26, 1874, at San Francisco, California -- "Don't ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up."

The actual poem that refers to "good fences" is called Mending Wall. Two neighbors come together to examine and fix the fence between them. One wonders why it is there at all and would rather it not be. The other insists that "good fences make good neighbors" and proceeds to repair it.

I decided to be a good neighbor and take cookies over to our neighbors on the north, south, east and west of us; and let them know how much I appreciated them. One of them I haven't even met before because of how our homes sit. But many a time I have thought I would walk over or leave them a note telling them they have my vote for the most beautiful yard in the neighborhood.

On one of my father's visits to our home here in Las Vegas, he asked "why all the brick walls?" Privacy, security, and boundaries. Of course where we grew up on the southside of Glasgow, there weren't any fences between the neighbor's yards. Do fences really make good neighbors? Do you know people who have built up fences around themselves for "privacy, security, and boundaries"?

Now from a rancher's point of view, fences are a necessity of never ending drudgery. No matter how many times you fix them, they need fixing again. And for our cows the grass was always greener on the other side -- of the dike. Countless times we would receive phone calls from the hospital letting us know that their patients didn't particularly enjoy looking out their windows to see a cow staring back at them. (Okay, basically they said, "Manson, your cows are over here again.")

Speaking of cows . . .

Here are Tana and I (also Debbie Abbott) with our calves we entered in the County Fair. They were twins that were orphaned at birth. We fed them by hand with a large 7-up bottle with a nipple attached to the top. Mine was named "Pretty" and Tana's was called "Cutie" -- 'cause they just were, that's why.

Tana obviously was more of a cowgal than I was -- I mean, I have lace around my collar. You know, I remember that calf being a lot bigger than I was. When I was leading it around, I nearly got my foot stomped on. The rural life has a lot of merits to it, though. Many more than what city kids get.

A word to the wise passed down from my grandmother -- to my mother -- to us. "If you never learn how to milk a cow, you'll never have to." When my dad was gone those winters for the legislature, he always got someone to help with the chores.