the road to the highway from our house is long, winding, mostly paved, and probably the most beautiful i've ever seen. mountains rise from both sides of the canyon, and they are green and covered with pines; the road, which goes along a canyon stream, is mostly flat but winds around a few hills on its way. about halfway to the forest we slow down to go through walker's ranch; the sign says twenty. on a good day, i like to go only twenty. other days i'm more like everyone else, and do maybe thirty.

mr. walker is like ninety seven. sometimes i see him out there. he has about fifty cows who roam freely in the valley, and they roam over our house as well; he has the rights, and though we have the right to fence them out, we haven't yet. they've been providing fertilizer which i turn into black dirt.

the ranch has the doors to its barns and outbuildings open, and facing the road. so, when i slow down to twenty, i see most of his tools and equipment. of course i don't know what much of it is, not being a rancher, but some of it has to do with fencing, or roping cows or horses. there is no point, to him, of turning it to the side or protecting it by locking it. usually i make a strong cup of black coffee as i leave home and don't even get a sip of it before i get to the ranch, because the road is windy and you have to pay attention going around blind curves. sometimes there will be cows in the road, or deer will jump out at you, so you just have to have both hands on the wheel and eyes full ahead.

but when i get to the ranch, i slow down to twenty, which is like a crawl, and take sips of black coffee. i get all that black coffee right there at that ranch. if he's out there i wave at him; i actually know him. he asked me if his cows were bothering me once. i told him we would work on making him a bypass if he wanted, so that the highway would go around his ranch. he said that wasn't necessary.

people are kind of surprised that he's as active as he is, being ninety-seven and all, but he has a pretty balanced lifestyle, and has friends do the things that are hardest for him. he spends a lot of time outside. he takes care of himself when he's sick.

he's a christadelphian, part of a religious community that settled in the valley many years ago. they had a couple of schools, one of which remains, but i'm not sure what they did for a church. his kids have not been hanging around the ranch much, so i don't know what will happen when he dies. i've always thought the location would be perfect for a little town - it has mountains rising from all sides, but it's very flat, and has a couple of springs feeding the canyon wash right there - and it's all very green and beautiful, especially this time of year. he has some ancient apple trees. they seem to keep on cranking out the apples, as far as i can tell, although they are probably some ancient variety.

i watch, as i'm going twenty, and as i drink my black coffee. what else is there to do?