The name of our little piece of paradise. But why the Bar None you might ask?
As homage to the original Bar None Ranch in Indiahoma, Oklahoma. My dad’s 140 acres in the foothills of the Wichita Mountains. A great story, dad bought the land for $27,000 in 1972. Holds several of his favorite fishing holes and some trails he ran and climbed as a child growing up during the Great Depression. He sold it in 2009 for a cool $400K. Not a bad investment for a self described Oklahoma Ridge Runner that spent his life as a laborer.
A couple of the sweetest little honey holes in SW Oklahoma.
True to the skeptical sentiments shared by many of his generation, dad refused to trust the stock market or even the safest of investment instruments. Instead he stashed his cash in a box in a vault in a local bank. Where it sat for the last 4 years. I finally convinced him to invest in a simple money market fund while on our trip down a couple of weeks ago.
I might be the only cat you’ll ever know that has held $280K in his hot little hands.
The original ranch is now a wild game hunting property managed out of Dallas, TX. I was saddened by the size of the fences that now encompass the land.
I spent nearly 8 hours yesterday taking down fencing. The previous owners had dogs and cattle and were compelled to compartmentalize the 3 acres of prime and fertile land. A Real Cowboy abhors fences.
The Bar None. You know I dig the double entendre and this suits me to a T.
Bar None. Meaning Everyone is welcome. No exceptions. A sanctuary where all can be forgotten. The idyllic and peaceful countryside beckoning relaxation and appreciation of the finest things in life.
Bar None. Meaning none better, the best. The standard. Excellence.
Yeah, I’m going to dig this new gig as run/farm guru.
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