In the Morning

Every day I drive the gravel road toward home, from one outing or another, and I see the flush of green creeping slowly up the mountain. Every day a little greener, a little higher. At home I feed the cows from the remaining reserves of hay, watch for a moment as they curl their long tongues around a chosen tuft, then retract the tongue and chew in that slow, side-to-side way of ruminants. Ignoring me. For what good am I now? They have their hay, and tomorrow must seem a long ways off.

It’s ok. They’ll like me again in the morning.



8 thoughts on “In the Morning”

  1. blockquote, div.yahoo_quoted { margin-left: 0 !important; border-left:1px #715FFA solid !important; padding-left:1ex !important; background-color:white !important; } Seriously, man… how do you say so much with so few words? This post reminds me of the (false) tale of Hemingway being challenged to write a heartbreaking story in less than 10 words. Turns out the tale can only be traced back to a play about him, not to his actual life, but the story he supposedly wrote goes like this: For sale: Baby shoes, never worn. 

    (Sob, sob, sob…)  Anyway. On that happy note, great post. 🙂  

    1. Not too bad of a one. There was lots of snow cover early, so the frost didn’t go too deep… even though it was so mild last winter, mud season was MUCH worse because there was little snow.


      1. I remember when the highway departments would put signs on the side of paved roads in the Spring that read “FROST HEAVES”. FROST HEAVES are unknown here in Nebraska, so when my Wife moved to New Hampshire in 1987, she promptly knocked the muffler off her 1977 Pontiac Grand Prix when she unknowingly “jumped” a FROST HEAVE.

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