Blow Your Whistle at my Mules
Maybe the mules and I have been alone too long. Maybe I’m childish. Who cares. Fist-pumping the Nebraska sky to get a coal train to blow its whistle at the mules and me amuses the hell out of me.
That ol’ train whistle sure makes me smile. I hope it does you, too.
Whistle Post Script
The whistle blowing caper happened in the Sand Hills of Nebraska. The mules and I have since traveled to eastern Wyoming.
9 Responses to Blow Your Whistle at my Mules