History

You know, saddlepals, our trailride through Santa Clarita Valley history may prove to be positively Shakespearean.  I know the sun hasn’t quite peeked through yet, but you might want to

Now try not to act like too much of a country rube on this morning’s trail ride through local history. But we’ve got an entire passel of celebrities riding with

Of all things, we’re going to be doing some spying on varmints this fine Saturday morning. It’s just an old-fashioned way to predict the weather.  And if that doesn’t get

Got to warn you up front — we’ve got an all-time villain waiting ahead on the backtrails of local history: the devil, himself.  And certainly, there are some lower-case scalawags

I think this is a first.  We’ve got Satan himself scheduled to appear on our trek into yesteryear.  I know that’s hard to top, but there’s also Superman, Columbo and

Labor Day’s behind us and lovely, lovely Santa Clarita autumn is ahead. Positively amazing how time just keeps slipping. It’s almost 2026.  I suggest we need a gallop into yesterday

Schindler “The Swindler” was arguably the Santa Clarita Valley’s greatest con man.  We’ll be saying howdy to him.  John Raggio couldn’t take it with him, the “it” being a fortune

Well. What do you think. Should we just stumble out to the den, turn on the cable and see if there’s a John Wayne movie on or should we slip

A warm — but hopefully not too darn warm — and Western howdy to you, saddlepals.  C’mon. Up and out of those bunks and don’t even think about trying to

Santa Clarita nuclear holocausts? Yup. A rather tacky “Nuts & Bolts” party? Mmm-hmmm. Outlaws? An entire passel. One of my favorite phrases to annoy my lady friends: “Farmerettes?” Amen boy

Positively and simply staggering, how time flies. First Saturday of August. Each of you ask yourselves what you’re doing with your lives. Make a slight face. Shrug. Say, aloud, “Well

Amen boy howdy. The thermometer gods have been most kind so far this July. Almost August and it’s been downright pleasant and then some. We’ve a most interesting trek ahead

Hope you didn’t have one of those “Lost Weekend” benders of a Friday night, dear Santa Clarita saddlepals over the age of 21. Top of a July Saturday morn to

Well. Somehow, here we are, summer. Belly of the Beast. Hope you don’t mind. I’ve installed personal equestrian misters to spray a gentle ghosting of refreshing water over us as

You’ll excuse me if I’m still a bit sappy and bursting with pride. But I feel rather lucky to be an American. We’re not perfect as a country or a

Top of June’s last Saturday morning to you, dear saddlepals. I’d step into the entryway, but I’ve got the spurs on and, no offense, I’d rather not leave those thousands