Mules Brick, Cracker and I have arrived in Anselmo and the end of farming in this part of central Nebraska.
By “the end of farming”, no, I don’t mean they’re canceling the Husker corn crop this year. Rather, the mules and I are traveling from arable farm country to land too dry to farm. Anselmo sits square on the line that divides farm land from ranch land. We’re going from corn and soybeans to wind, grass, cows and windmills.
It feels like we’re oh so close to entering the America west (which starts, for me at least, in Wyoming).
A Photos of the Day
Tomorrow the mules and I set off for Dunning, 21 miles away from Anselmo. At long last we walk in to the Sand Hills proper.
I much enjoy your postings of the towns you visit. Where I grew up we were five miles from the nearest town, and in the 50s there were only about fifty people there. Our local grocer kept all his cash under his cooler, wrapped carefully in blue laundry paper and tied up with string. I am sure most people knew that. As I read your posts and see your photos I am taken back there. Of course things are different now. Most of the farms have been purchased by Hollywood people and rock stars. And that grocery store is now an attorneys office. Change is constant que no?
I much enjoy your postings of the towns you visit. Where I grew up we were five miles from the nearest town, and in the 50s there were only about fifty people there. Our local grocer kept all his cash under his cooler, wrapped carefully in blue laundry paper and tied up with string. I am sure most people knew that. As I read your posts and see your photos I am taken back there. Of course things are different now. Most of the farms have been purchased by Hollywood people and rock stars. And that grocery store is now an attorneys office. Change is constant que no?