Horses and buckets…

Horses and buckets…

Recently for a family vacation, we flew into Kansas City to visit the area where I was born enroot to our ultimate destination of Branson, Missouri. Visiting my family was a lot of fun along with touring the old family farm. We stopped by the house I lived in and showed the kids where I was a kid! It all helped to soothe an ache for seeing it all again that had been building up in me over the last few years. This was the first time I had been to Kansas in the summer since I was nine. We always used to visit in the late fall and winter season, neither of which is a great look for most places. I was amazed at how lush and beautiful of an area it is. If you ever get the chance to drive around eastern Kansas, I would highly recommend it during late spring and early summer.As we headed south from Kansas City, we were able to meet up with some old family friends that were near and dear to my parents and me. They were farming at the same time our family was, and their friendship and laughter are some of my very best memories. We met them for lunch and in the course of the conversation, Don brought up the bucket list that I had shared with him when I was about sixteen.I was really into horses and Louis Lamour books at the time, and I told him that I thought it would be a blast to start at the Pacific Ocean and ride a horse all the way across the United States to the Atlantic. Don has never let me forget that, and I will admit that on occasion it does sound fun.However, my current thinking is more like the following:

  • Day 1: Horse spots ocean just after I mount, jumps in fright and runs off. Ouch! I should have practiced riding more.
  • Day 2: Very sore from being dumped from horse and to top it off, it has been raining since 4 AM. I am cold, wet and miserable. What a dumb idea to ride across the U.S.
  • Day 3: Still raining, but from inside the truck heading home, it is nice and dry. I’m looking forward to reading about someone else riding across the US!

I was reminded of how lucky I am to have such fond memories of our old house pop up in my mind as we visited it.

I would love to sleep again in my old room, waking to the sun streaming in the eastern window. Maybe have a slice of freshly baked bread right out of the oven, while listening to my mom tell me another story. I’m pretty sure my love of bread, cinnamon rolls, cookies, and a good story are thanks to her and the baking that went on in that house. But, seriously! Is there anything better than to hear a good story while munching on a fresh baked good?Sharing this glimpse into my early life makes me “hungry” to hear some of your early stories.

You may wonder why an excavating company would invest time and thousands of dollars into this newsletter every month.

Most guess we are trying to market to you…which is a little correct, but the biggest reason we love it is being part of this community. This is our small contribution to preserving some of its stories. This area is a unique part of the US. There are not many places that you can still talk to the original settlers like you can here. So, if you or someone you know has a story to tell of the early days we would love to listen. We will do all the work of typing it up. All you have to do is share so we can all enjoy a walk back in time.Finally, if anyone has a heated and air-conditioned horse they would like to loan me, I have a bucket list to fulfill!

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Digging dirt since 1994.

And we don't plan to stop anytime soon.

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