Not my first rodeo

In my heart of hearts, there's still a country boy that comes out from time to time. Nothing brings that out quite like visiting the old family ranch in eastern Nevada, or going to an honest-to-goodness rodeo.

One of the many things I love about my little town is the fact that it still has touches of "rural" sprinkled throughout its "suburban" trappings. People still ride horses down our streets. There are homes nearby that have a couple of acres of pasture land as their backyard. And our town still includes a PRCA-sanctioned rodeo as part of its annual town celebration.

 



I can't say I so much as touched a horse, the other Friday, though I would have loved to have climbed into the saddle again and gone for a jaunt around town. Watching them was as close as this faux-cowboy got.

 

I loved it anyway.

  

As things wrapped up, I took some time to lose myself in strawberry heaven. In all seriousness, the strawberries and cream dessert is practically the festival's mascot. And for the reasonable price they sell them at, you don't just stop at one cup, either.