Amber waves of grain...

That's what I thought of today.... that line in "America The Beautiful."  When the grasses in the fields are a certain height in September and October, and the breeze hits those grasses in a certain way, the tips of the grass dances on the wind and the picture that comes to mind is really an ocean of amber waves.

We went for a drive today on our way out to lunch, and after all the rain we've had these past ten days, mostly all of the pastures are filled with knee-high amber-tipped grasses that give truth to that song.  A field like that is beautiful to look at and if you're not careful, your eyes will fill up with tears.

On the way down our hill this morning, I saw four turtles sun-bathing on the rocks in our pond. How did they find the filled-up pond so quickly?  We always have turtles in that pond when it fills up after a rain...... but when the pond is dry, the turtles are nowhere to be found. Makes me wonder if they're hiding in the tall grasses around the pond, just waiting for the sky to open up with rain.

The weather today wasn't very warm.... I don't think it got over 75 degrees. The cows out in the surrounding fields were sitting right out in the sun today, rather than their usual routine of  laying in the shade under the trees.  It kills me when I see livestock out in pastures without trees... you just know that when the sun is broiling, those cows and horses have nowhere to go to escape the sun.

I heard some nearby cows mooing this afternoon, which makes me think that their calves have been brought to market.  Whenever you see a trailer filled with livestock on these roads, it's not because they're being taken for a Sunday drive to look at the scenery. They're going to market, to be slaughtered and cut up into dinner-sized portions of beef.  Give me a blessed break.  I didn't eat meat before moving out here to the country, and I damn well wouldn't be interested in eating beef now, that's for sure.

I still cringe a bit whenever we see our neighbor's goats..... he always has goats over there, and he doesn't raise them for pets... he's raising them for the meat.  Farmer that he is, he doesn't take the goats to market..... he does the butchering himself.  When we first moved here, he offered us a delicacy (his word).... a baby goat.  El cabrito, he called it.  Wonderful.  As graciously as we could, we said Thank you, but no thank you.   That neighbor's goats are always having babies...... the baby goats run around the pasture like puppies, but not for long. Damn. Sometimes it's very hard to live out here.