Going on a Romp

A "romp" in Cook Family parlance is a long trek over hill and up dale and through cow pastures and around ravines and under barbed-wire fences and amidst broam grass and wildflowers and cedar trees (that Grandma will eventually chop down) under the huge Nebraska sky, with family. A group of thirty or so off us took off down this dirt road: but soon left the road to wander cross-country through the pasture.


The terrain here is so hilly that erosion is inevitable, but that only makes the hiking more fun for these guys.

Shyer wildlife took cover, but Isaac found this little bugger and didn't want to let him go. I think he was planning to take him home, but after Isaac had carried the toad about a mile or so, the poor thing started looking a bit sickly, so I convinced Isaac that his new friend would be happier in a proper habitat near the cow tank. It helped that I had a little baggie full of candy that I was willing to share with any children who would first wash their hands at the windmill's pump. That was a pretty good incentive to put the toad down. :-)

The cows probably thought we were nuts, tromping around like boisterous hooligans.

At the end of the trail, Ben found a proper place to take a breather. Grandpa rigged up this his-n-her "rest stop" alongside a seldom-used, never-maintained-by-the-county (Grandpa's tax dollars not at work) road leading to family property in what we call "the mountains"(not to be confused with "the hills," which differ slightly in size but greatly in family history.) BYOTP.