My Thursday posts for the past several months have been fictional accounts of events on the High Plains in an earlier day. Here, in her honor is my Aunt Fern's obituary. It is a non-fictional account of one person's life on the High Plains.
30 I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard of the man void of understanding; 31 And, lo, it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof, and the stone wall thereof was broken down. 32 Then I saw, and considered it well: I looked upon it, and received instruction. 33 Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep: 34 So shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth; and thy want as an armed man. --KJV