A Texas Girl Talks - Life… from a decidedly southern perspective!
Lorena
7 episodes
1 day ago
Send us a text 1971 - Davis Ranch, Sonora Texas I was six years old and it was shearing day. A large part of our annual income depended on the sale of wool and mohair, but I didn’t know or care about that part of it. My only thought was to get down to the pens as soon as mom would turn me loose when I heard that ancient pickup rattle up the road at daybreak carrying its crew of four or five Hispanic men. Dad would meet the truck at the driver’s side window, briefly conferring w...
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Send us a text 1971 - Davis Ranch, Sonora Texas I was six years old and it was shearing day. A large part of our annual income depended on the sale of wool and mohair, but I didn’t know or care about that part of it. My only thought was to get down to the pens as soon as mom would turn me loose when I heard that ancient pickup rattle up the road at daybreak carrying its crew of four or five Hispanic men. Dad would meet the truck at the driver’s side window, briefly conferring w...
Visiting My Ancestry - The Story of Tom and Buena Davis - Part 2
A Texas Girl Talks - Life… from a decidedly southern perspective!
15 minutes
1 year ago
Visiting My Ancestry - The Story of Tom and Buena Davis - Part 2
Send us a text As a child, I never stopped to wonder about what my grandparent’s lives were like before I came into the world. A kid’s perspective is shortsighted and naturally selfish; the walls of my perception hadn’t expanded beyond the boundaries of my wishes. In my eyes, my grandparents were suspended in time. They had always been and would always be exactly as they were, even as my brother and I celebrated birthdays and the pencil markings on the door frame testified to our growth. ...
A Texas Girl Talks - Life… from a decidedly southern perspective!
Send us a text 1971 - Davis Ranch, Sonora Texas I was six years old and it was shearing day. A large part of our annual income depended on the sale of wool and mohair, but I didn’t know or care about that part of it. My only thought was to get down to the pens as soon as mom would turn me loose when I heard that ancient pickup rattle up the road at daybreak carrying its crew of four or five Hispanic men. Dad would meet the truck at the driver’s side window, briefly conferring w...
