There are some things I’d like to share with you about the place that we’re presently living and they are:
Once you get off the interstate in North Dakota and onto a regular road, sometimes know as Blue Highways, the paved road will just end. Just like that. And it becomes red dirt.
A train runs by our campground six times a day, hauling coal, and the sound of it’s whistle takes me on a nostalgic trip back to the days when our children were young and the iron horse passed through our farm several times a day.
Horses watch every move I make in the campground as they’re a stones throw away, stomping and galloping to and fro constantly. The thundering herd emit the sounds of a posse pursuing The Lone Ranger, you remember it, taking you back to years gone by and making it a joy to come back to the campground.
George Washington did not sleep here in Medora. T. Roosevelt did and I am, but that’s it for famous people.