Driving home on my usual route around the Drury Inn off Interstate 70, I had a one-of-these-things-just-doesn't-belong-here moment. First, there are dozens of horse trailers stashed along the frontage road by ranchers who visit Denver every year for the National Western Stock Show. Cowboys start hauling their big trucks and trailers a few days before the event begins; a clear sign the January spectacle is near.
But this cowboy, fiddling with his trailer, appeared to be sweeping up a pile of hay from the cold asphalt. There was a plastic bucket by his feet. Light shone out of the open cab, reflecting off his big belt buckle, but he was all about business. And what task could it be that had him still working hard well after midnight? I guess if he was lucky, perhaps he sold his livestock for a hefty price and happily was preparing a clean trailer to take back home.
I hope that was it.
P.S. Yes, I have a goal to knit these nasty little buggers in the near future.
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