Blue Tooth Ranch

This is where I spent New Years with some dear old friends (some dear, some old).

This is the old bridge. Back when this was a cattle ranch, before it was a grape ranch, this bridge was the only way to get the cattle from the pasture to the the slaughter house.

The Pasture.

The dear old chicken and her colleagues.

The hedge. Every time I visit the Blue Tooth there is something new. This is as much a statement about my memory as it is about actual changes.

The guard dog. The sweet, young guard dog.