Ladies on the move



These gals come when I call them. Pretty nice, right? I just have to convince the cow at the front of the pack to follow me, and the rest are right behind. That's how herd animals work (and high schoolers, too, if I recall.)


 

Summertime is vacation time for dry (non-lactating...funny term, right?) cows. They spend their days in the pasture, staring blankly at the tourists who pull over on the side of the road to snap their photos. Soon, the weather will get cold and we'll bring them back to the warm barn for the winter. People always comment on how lovely they look outside, but in truth, they are very happy to be in-doors. Still, there's no denying their stark black and white spots look postcard pretty against the deep green pasture backdrop. I will miss watching them through the window as I type at my desk.




Read more...

As summer concludes...



My up-close view of this lovely monarch was bittersweet. Summer is winding down, and she'd grown too weary to flee my curiosity. I found her tired and limp in the driveway. I lifted her gently with my fingertip, and placed her on this plush pink zinnia to rest. Her time is near.

There's a rhythm to the seasons and a plan for all living creatures. Sometimes we just have to let go and trust things will be ok.


Read more...

Summer on the shore of Lake Iroquois



Fish nibble our toes as we float in our tubes
Laughing, yelling, swigging off beer cans

Women are fussing over pasta salads
Men prod a leaking pipe on the back porch, offering theories

“We’ll fix it tomorrow.”

A bare-bottomed bandit, who’s escaped his mother
Jiggles victoriously as he flees a fresh diaper
photo by Shem Roose

“It won’t be long until we get him on water-skis”
A proud grandpa assures an unconvinced uncle

We talk about baseball, and weddings, and sweet corn varieties
But not about bosses, or bank accounts, or chemotherapy

This is how summer comes, and this is how summer goes
One day blurring happily into the next

Sun burned and sleepy
We settle in by the campfire

As the sun slips behind the pine trees
At the foot of the western shore

Read more...