A soft rain is falling at Possum Cough this afternoon. After a Friday and a Saturday that seemed more Floridian or Texan than Virginian, we are back to gray skies and cooler temperatures for our Sunday. Even thinking such a thing as I am about to write is unheard of for either MeeMaw or myself, but the truth is that we had hoped we would have another sunny day today. Such is the power of spring, and such is the effect of a long and often difficult winter. We're grateful for all of it, though, and that's not just chirp-speak.Speaking of chirps, the first day of spring was utilized as Livestock Acquisition Day. We went down to town and bought six pullet chicks, along with the gear needed to raise the little things to healthy egg-laying adulthood. MeeMaw has appended preliminary names to the chicks, "A,B,C,D,E, and F." As soon as they do something to distinguish themselves one from the others, she will flesh those names out into full monikers. Like Abercrombie, Boujoulais, Crunk, DeTwana, Euripides, and Farmaceutical.
One of the other elders from church, Charles, heard that we had obtained a wood-burning stove. He remembered an oak and a hickory that had blown down in his pasture a year or two ago. One afternoon, he recruited Ralph (one of the deacons) to help him chainsaw the wood into manageable lengths. They loaded Charles' pickup truck full, and he brought it by that evening. Even though it doesn't feel like woodstove weather right now, we may burn some of it before springtime takes firm hold. They're even saying that we might get one more big snowstorm before the month is out. Wouldn't surprise us.
Bonnie is loving her fenced-in back yard. She prefers spending time out there, and has a knack for finding and gnawing on things that we don't want her to have. She dug an old shoe out of the goat shed (which I spent two hours straightening and cleaning Saturday) and chewed it to ribbons, and then found an old plastic dish with which we used to feed the barn cats. Chawed it up like 'baccy. Hateful thing.
But she loves her some fence.
She also prefers to take her cold dranks from the birdbath as opposed to the nice water dish we installed on the deck for her. The bath is stained from the tannin in the leaves that blow into it. You can see where her tongue has washed the tannin from the bottom of the bath
From Five Pines, MeeMaw and her doggy look as serene as a March breeze.
I didn't intend to end on a sad note, but one thing I was compelled to mention. One of Mr. D's cows (an old white lady MeeMaw named Flossie the first time she saw her amble past the fence) has been going downhill lately. She used to be quite active, and we enjoyed seeing her with her white-faced calf, Flower, as they fed and rested together daily. Flossie always carried an air of sadness to her. She was homely and mud-spattered, and we imagined the other cows thought of her as shabby and low-class. Naturally, we came to be very fond of her and Flower (the only white-faced calf among Mr. D's 100-strong herd).When we came home from church this afternoon, we noticed Mr. D and his son and the country vet tending to Flossie, who was lying on the ground outside the big hay barn. They ran an IV through her, and then tried unsuccessfully to get her to stand. They pried her jaws open and gave her a drenching of some sort and tried again to get her on her feet, but she remained on her belly, legs tucked under her, eyes half-closed. The men finally left her where she was. Time passed and the other cows passed her on their way to the water trough. She watched them go, turning her head slightly and gazing at them through her heavy-lidded eyes. Alone in the spring rain, she sat and watched.
A few minutes ago, I went to look out and check on her. I was astounded to see that Flossie's calf, Flower, had gone down to be with her mama. And now, there she sits, close enough to nuzzle her mama and comfort Flossie as the old girl likely passes out of life. I have known human beings who didn't display this kind of devotion and affection for their own kin. Yes, Flossie is "just a cow," and Flower is "just a calf." They are mere dumb animals. But they are showing something fierce and beautiful this afternoon on a green Virginia hillside in the quiet rain, in the dying light, in the good order of created things.
Rest well, loved ones.
~ PeePaw
