Whenever my family would spend time with my grandparents, the gatherings always ended with someone asking, “Grandma, tell me a story.” These wonderful tales included accounts of covered wagons heading west and real cowboys and cowgirls living on ranches on the western slope of Colorado. We heard narratives about life on a ranch, sheep camps, and family helping family. Although the family no longer lived in that beautiful state at that time, as children we believed it had to be the most magical place to live!
The adults, grandparents, aunts, uncles, mom, and dad, would sit on the couch or remaining chairs while the grandchildren would sit on the floor, sitting as close as they could to the woman they adored. No one wanted to miss a single word. Although we often heard the same tales over and over, we would still sit quietly and listen; we loved hearing about these adventures. At times, little ones would speak up and ask questions, or the other adults would chime in while giving their side of the story. Those days provided us with a sense of pride and direction as we listened to the stories about how it all started.
Those precious days kept us connected to a long line of family that we never even knew! Still, we loved our heritage and our stories. Today, I am blessed with little ones, grandchildren who call me Honey, and it’s my hope to keep the old stories coming and to preserve new stories for all to enjoy.
I dedicate this sweet journey to my precious little ones: my daughter Leslie and her husband, Aaron, and all my wonderful grand babies: Mathew, Cameron, Sierra, Jessica, Kylie, Connor, and Jaxon. It is my hope that you will enjoy these tales and this history of how it all began. Love you all!