The Haxtun-Fleming Herald - What can we reason but from what we know? -Alexander Pope

Folks like us who make a big part of their living off the land develop an appreciation not only for how it serves us but also for those who took care of it before we came along.

As a student, I will admit, history was not my favorite class. In fact it ranked pretty close to the bottom of the list. I only passed Colorado history at Cache LaPoudre high school in LaPorte because the teacher was the football coach and needed me to stay eligible. A side benefit of a small school that needed a 138 pound running back. Real small school.

In spite of my efforts not to grow old, the world has kept me around. Our later years have allowed Sue and I to put together a couple pieces of ranch land, both of which were homesteads still owned by the families of the original filers back in the early 1900s. As a result, we have had the rare opportunity to learn about the only other caretakers of our land besides us. All of a sudden I am a history buff.

Our home place was homesteaded by a family whose father was a rather small in stature cowboy who was known to ride a horse about anywhere he went, including into the little village of Brush.

Ironically, a cowboy, perhaps not as small, and his truly small wife are now entrusted with continuing his legacy. At least that is the way I enjoy looking at it.

I look at his every day activities as fascinating history and continually benefit from his love of the land. Unable to suppress my imagination that turns normal thoughts into strange ones, I find myself wondering how history will view my efforts. Fast forward to February 2079.

The “old Hodgson place” as it may now be known as, is now on the state historical register as only one other family, the Christensen's, ever owned it. The patriarch, as history recalls was a little cowboy, Gary, who rode a horse long after the world had gone to 4-wheelers, side by sides and the new “teleporters," controlled by the driver’s thoughts. Mr. Hodgson did own a vehicle, now in the Smithsonian’s branch museum in Brush. It is a 2015 Chevrolet pickup that shows signs he must have been better with horses than motor vehicles.

No cemetery plots in the Brush cemetery have been found for either Gary or Sue. Legend is, he is buried somewhere on the ranch. As the story goes, the land was so hard, neighbors buried him in the only soft spot they could find, an old bull wallow. The problem was, every once in a while the bulls would return and dig the old guy up. Each time that happened, the new owners would put his hat and boots back in place and cover him up again. Old timers recalled he smelled about the same as his older years alive, after Sue was gone. She also is enshrined in the Smithsonian along with her plague from the “Women’s Club of America” as both a famous artist and the world’s most tolerant wife ever.

Yep. Love writing about and making history.