Back on the Ranch

     All good things come to an end.  We are back in Hainesport, mowing the grass that grew and raking the leaves that fell (Mike), and nursing a wicked cold (me).  The dog has finally stopped jumping on us, and the laundry is done.  The travel turducken (a fanny pack inside a backpack inside a suitcase) is in the attic.
     Hainesport doesn't have hoodoos or fantastic gorges.  At just 49 feet above sea level, there aren't any good views.  There's also no danger of altitude sickness.  There are no casinos, no dormant volcanoes, and no tumbleweeds.  Hainesport has something better than those things. Hainesport holds my history and my heart.  It's the the place where the best man in the world and the best dog in the world live with the best blogger in the world (sorry, I had to throw that in). There's no place like home.