I love the time of year you see captured in this image. The winter fog cloaks the land and lays down a blanket of refreshing dew on everything, even during the dry years. The morning feels fresh, the grass is grazed down around the roundup ground and the tiny purple phlox is visible in the sandy soil and the bare spots between clumps of blue stem.
The fog muffles the sound of horses milling and the hay being tossed out for them while the cow outfit has a breakfast of carne guisada and camp bread, the mesquite smoke curling above the still morning mist. In those days there were no goose necked trailers and few roads, the horses driven moved one pasture to the next. A sorrel herd of working horses flowing across the landscape.