Monday, July 21, 2014
Double the Trouble but Double the Fun
I did not take my camera on my morning walk today.
I won't do that again.
Figuring there'd be nothing along the way that I hadn't already shot a gazillion times before, I decided a walk without the camera would be totally sufficient.
The thing is heavy, so it's nice to walk with a little more sense of freedom occasionally.
While headed north on our dirt road, I looked over through Meserve's orchard to see Bert's herd congregated by the fence, looking back at me.
Something had them on the move earlier when I finally walked Lily down the lane to her pasture.
As an aside, I must report that Lily is in to her summer routine of standing at the barnyard gate waiting for me to take her down the lane, only to run to the other side of the enclosure the instant I open the gate.
It's one of Lily's mid-summer games.
She started this year's version about three days ago, and I keep thinking I'm going to teach her a lesson by ignoring her and going on about my watering project.
About halfway through watering this morning, I went back to the gate where Lily stood waiting, figuring maybe this time she would done playing her game.
I opened the gate, Lily ran off, and I threw the lead rope at her as she raced across the barnyard almost thumbing her nose at me. I called her a bad name and then yelled, "Have it your way, you b-----. You can wait."
Lily brings out the worst of me at times.
I went back to manure-pile watering and finished off soaking the taters, squash, 'maters, beans, cucumbers and posies.
"Maybe she'll behave this time," I thought.
After all, third time's a charm, right?
Not today. Lily raced off once again. I uttered that bad name again and told Lefty he could come with me to the barn to get his hay while the bad girl stood on the other side of the barnyard.
I led Lefty into his stall. He proceeded to munch down on hay. I finished a few other little chores around the front of the house.
Lily started whinnying while standing at the gate.
For the fourth time, I walked over and opened the gate. Lily stood in one spot and then walked up to me so I could throw the lead rope over her head and place the fly mask over her face and ears.
So, on the walk down the lane both Lily and I both watched as little groups of Bert's cows galloped from the west toward Meserve's house.
Something had them stirred up, although not too much. I figured maybe a lead cow got it all started----or maybe they all wanted to come up and watch the Lily-Marianne show.
Anyway, with Lily in the pasture, I moved Lefty back into the barnyard, along with his hay (poor guy has had some miserable skin issues lately so I brought him up for dry feed).
Walk time finally came. With no camera, I headed north.
I saw those aforementioned cows and figured they were about as much in the photography department that I'd be seeing this morning.
Just after Meserve's north driveway, a long pathway heads west through the tall trees. I've always liked that pathway with its storybook enchantment.
This morning the pathway offered more enchantment than usual.
At first, I thought maybe someone had thrown two chunks of firewood out there in the semi darkness.
Looking closer, though, I saw that both pieces of firewood had ears, up and listening. . . . and little eyes looking back at me. Plus, this was a different brand of firewood than the buckskin tamarack a lot of folks like.
This firewood had spots.
Spotted firewood with ears and eyes, sitting there like petrified firewood.
"Hmmm, twins," I thought, adding, "Damn, no camera!"
So, an about face and a determination to walk back home and GET that camera, kept me focused and stepping along briskly.
No loss, I figured. If I have to walk the same distance twice and that spotted firewood is gone when I get back, I've at least enjoyed double the exercise.
If the firewood is still there, I'll have a nice picture to put on my blog.
Well, you now know the rest of the story because my double trouble with the firewood fawns totally trumped and made me forget my four-time frustration with Miss Lily.
And, who knows, if Miss Lily had stood at the gate like she's supposed to the very first time, those fawns may have been somewhere far from camera range.
So, as they say, things happen for a reason, and now that good timing, thanks to Lily's disobedience, allowed me some fun on the enchanted pathway, I guess I'll take back that bad name I called her.
Happy Monday. Look out for spotted firewood; it may be looking back at you!