I’d rather die

Years ago in Anza, I had an occasion to tag along with my father and younger brother as my father went to a ranch on the very most southern side of Anza. We drove along in an old 1946 truck that my father had converted into a pump rig.

Bees in the tree

Not too long ago in Anza, I had an occasion to take my grandson and a friend of his out looking for buried treasure and such, with the use of a metal detector. We went about 30 miles outside of Anza in our search and finally ended up in an area with rolling hills of grass dotted with old oak trees.

Local Lore – Bolt flyby

Years ago in Anza, I knew a fella that struck even me as a “character.” I guess it was his lifestyle, but he had a habit of enjoying any kind of meat that walked or crawled the earth. Thank God he limited himself to the animal kingdom – that is to say I don’t think […]

Local Lore – Windmill wrestling

In my youth in Anza, which was many years ago, I went with my father to repair a neighbor’s windmill. When we arrived to the site of the windmill, we found that the braking mechanism of the mill was not working. There was a slight breeze blowing and the blade of the mill was making […]

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