Second Home

Comes the month of August
As each year passes by
And once again it's time
To seek tall pines and blue, blue sky.

To come where field and meadow
With flowers like carpets of gold
Almost blind you as you ride horseback
Reliving the West of old.

And where can you find this place --
Where fantasy -- that dream of man and horse
Riding across the vast expanse of valley
And mountain, can fully run its course?

There is such a place tucked away
Amidst pines and trees of blue spruce
Where you can forget all your worries --
To relax is of very good use.

There is friendship and fellowship here
A warm welcome for all who come,
And if you are as Lucky as we
It is, in truth, your second home --- Sprucedale

by Josie Rayermann - August 1997
{24 years in a row, Sprucedale guest}