Which way? The geese are not confused. They, at least, know where they are going. I cannot say the same for me. Among the directionally challenged, I am perhaps the most directionally challenged of them all.
Our of a mound of hair, our groomer carved a lovely Norwich Terrier. Nan, showgirl that she was, has been preening ever since we brought her home from her beauty date. Nan is the only dog I’ve ever known who seems to genuinely like being groomed. She’s been strutting around the house, posing. She’s adorable.
The cows are happy. The chickens are happy. The corn is growing, joyously absorbing sunshine and rain. Three generations live on the farm … and the land has been in the family as long as anyone can remember.
The work is hard, season after season. But the people … they look happy too. Maybe it’s living with the soil and the animals. Letting the seasons dictate what there is to be done.
Autumn is coming. The corn will be gone, the cows will no longer graze and sleep in the green pasture along the river. Ice and snow will cover the ground. Even the chickens will huddle in their coops. Everyone and everything will wait for spring to come again. Fortunately, it always comes.
Garry doesn’t merely take pictures of animals. He chats them up. Amazingly, they chat back.
Maybe it’s all those years as a reporter and they all want their 15 minutes — more like 30 seconds — of fame, but animals like Garry. Always have. From our afternoon on the farm, Garry’s portraits of deeply contented cows.
For those of you wondering what those big yellow ear tags are: They are from the Department of Agriculture. They certify these cows are free of tuberculosis and other diseases so the farmer can sell unpasteurized milk. And indeed, the milk from this farm does not taste at all like grocery store milk. It tastes much better, even after most of the cream is gone.
You can see the Blackstone River in the background. The pasture lies along the banks of the river and there’s always a cooling breeze, even on the hottest afternoon.
This was a good week for oddball photographs. Lots of pictures that have no reason to exist except I just saw something and tried to capture it.
My pound cakes came out well. Baking them was something of an accomplishment since I can’t remember the last time I made one. But Garry wanted pound cake. He said he would just go buy one. I said if he’d never had homemade pound cake, he’d never had pound cake at all. Now, I think he would agree.
Collecting ingredients for the pound cakes triggered a trip to the farm around the corner to get fresh eggs. You need nine eggs for this recipe (some call for as many as a dozen) and I thought I’d like to use the best possible ingredients.
And while we were there, I bought some milk. Their milk is nothing like grocery store milk. It’s as thick with cream as half and half and you have to shake it to keep from skimming it.
Maybe it’s so good because these have to be the happiest cows in the world. They ooze contentment.