Mike was cremated yesterday. Four words… not even very big words ..but they are so heavy. They are present in my mind and I hear them and it is as if I am talking about someone else. I talked to him Saturday while I drove to Bandera River park. I sent him a picture of the Medina River as we continued to talk and I walked …by the river…into the woods…across the country road . Then when the beauty I walked through would no longer allow me to multitask and admire, we hung up, and I got lost in the land. I had learned to get lost in nature with unbounded freedom because of Mike. Living on the farm there were weeks I would not see another living soul. I wrote, I researched, I took classes and worked towards certifications in things that were spiritually important to me. I was allowed to have this beautiful break way out in the country with no one around …and it was … and it remains, so very special to me. I am not a Texan by birth, but unlike the clanish Blue Ridge and Appalachia’s where I spent so many years, you are not continuously met with the look and the phrase ” you ain’t from around here are you?” If you want to be a Texan … Move there. I learned that from living here and I learned it because of Mike Ragsdale.