I have several great loves in my life. First and foremost, my Heavenly Father; my husband and dad, horses and cattle ( well any type critter if you ask my husband) and the land that I grew up on, my precious Sandhills. This land is more than just dirt and grass to me. And it is not just a place to make a living. It defines me. It's who and what I am. It represents generations of toil on my family's behalf. It reminds me daily of those who have walked its soil before me. I cannot begin to express the feeling I have when I ride to the top of a big hill and look out over the sea of rolling hills. At times, I am quite overcome with emotion.
I have heard it said that Sandhillers are a different breed. I would agree to that. We have a code, if you will, unspoken, yet one that those of us raised as Sandhillers know and abide by. Understand that just because you were born in a Sandhill town and lived in a town in the Sandhills, does not necessarily make you a true Sandhiller and the opposite is true also. I know a few "non natives" that embody all that we Sandhillers are.
I live on the place that belonged to my dad's paternal Grandmother. We called her Granny Cline. Everyone in the county called her Granny. She was a rancher. Not a lady born on a ranch. A rancher. I hope I make her proud by following in her footsteps. The place my dad lives on was homesteaded 100 years ago this year by dad's maternal Grandfather, Sam Gordon. There is a lot of family history here.
So the love of the land isn't something that just developed with Dad and me. It is four generations deep. Four generations of riding to the top of a big hill and looking out at the cows and grass covered hills. Four generations of hard work. But mostly four generations of pride and love of our home.