It's not hard to imagine why Randy's ancestors chose a spot along for Rattlesnake Creek to stake a claim as they pushed westward more than 125 years ago. It's especially true on an evening when the sky was painted like an expansive, texture-filled canvas of light and darkness. The creek gently gurgled as the current ebbed and flowed along the banks after recent rains.
The view to the east looked past the fence into the neighbor's pasture, where the Rattlesnake continued its meandering path through more native grasses.
Once the fencing mission was complete, we worked our way back to the bridge on a dirt road that borders the pasture to the west.
The "same" scene looked nothing like the canvas that Randy would unwrap on Sunday morning, though it was taken from about the same spot. And that's the beauty of nature, isn't it?
More of the fence line that Randy and his cousin Don maintain provided a foreground for another snapshot facing east. It's hard to know whether they were the ones to set the posts or their dads or granddads planted them in the Kansas soil. And there's some history and symmetry in that, too.
The sky continued to shift. Most of the time, ducks soaring high overhead were our only companions. Eventually, a couple of guys in a pickup came by to make sure we weren't broken down on this desolate road with limited cell phone coverage.
Some of those ducks who had been soaring overhead found a resting and feeding spot in that small pond.
I probably gave up on the sunset too soon. As we turned the corner on our road to go home, we saw the vivid pink underneath a blanket of blue as the sun went to bed for the night. We stopped at our wheat field for a quick snapshot.
Afterwards, we got to enjoy Randy's blueberry anniversary pie. Nature's "movie" and a snack. Maybe it's even better than a blockbuster and popcorn. (It's been so long between blockbusters, we wouldn't know.)