Bruce, the handyman who knows how to do everything, came over today and installed a lovely fence with two gates between the studios. I have never been so enthusiastic about anything. This encloses the space between Andy's woodshop and my studio so that the cows can't come in and wreak havoc by night. Now I can think about planting some shrubs and flowers (deer-proof) and being able to walk barefoot in this new space. What gardening potential!
It happened just in time. After Bruce finished with the new fence, the cowboys came with their dogs and horses to round up the calves who were to be sold. They had two long trailers to take away the eighteen calves. Right now the cows are bellowing and screaming for their young (now each more than six hundred pounds!) Tonight I hear the cows enraged, crying for their young- and, no doubt, wanting to drop many non-verbal negative messages between the studios. But they can't! Thanks to Bruce.
I always knew from the time I was a small child that I wanted very much to be connected to the natural world. I love being here on a farm where all I can see in any direction is my own land. I love showing my grandson Quincy the enormous golden orb weaver spiders, doodle bugs in the sand, wild pigs, tortoise holes.
I look forward to the times when we can walk out in the full moon, as we have done with our older grandchildren and many other kids. There are no fences or gates, no flashlights, as we walk through the round field and over the culvert and to the lane that leads to the last field. The full moon makes everything bright. You can see fireflies blinking in the palmettos and you believe, as you hold a small hand tightly in yours, that anything is possible even in this impossible world.
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