Kitty Russell ran a tight ship in Dodge City's Long Branch Saloon. Together with her bartender Sam and thanks to occasional help from Marshall Matt Dillon, Kitty kept things in pretty good order. Occasionally, there'd be a shoot-out over a card game or a beef someone had with Matt. Chairs would fly, folks would scatter. Shots were fired. Within seconds, the place would be a mess.
Well, as I look over my lawn this morning, I can't help but think of Miss Kitty. I do my best to keep things under control and lookin' nice here at my rural domain. But, occasionally, trouble shows up, and when it does, I've got a damn mess.
Last night, no more than 30 minutes after I had completed several hours worth of mowing the tall grass brought on by steaming hot temperatures, a fightin' mad wind storm blew into town with vengeance on its mind.
During three violent offensives lasting no more than 45 seconds total, my beautifully manicured lawn transformed into a leafy war zone. Two aspen trees broke off and fell to their deaths in the driveway and at least 2,000 limbs separated from their mother trees. They now lie in death's slumber, covering virtually every square inch of the once tidy green blanket surrounding the house and barn.
This morning, just like Kitty, I'm sportin' a stern look on my face, thinking about how long it's gonna take to remove the evidence of this unprovoked and unwelcome assault on my territory. Not even Matt Dillon's lightning fast six-gun could've provided a match for this wind blow-out.
I guess I have no choice but to do like they must've done in Dodge City back in the 1800s. That's to get out there, pick up the carnage of lawn branches and move on with life.
Damn! I could use a shot of Sam's whiskey this morning.
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