Away with the cows
Away With The Cows .
I’m off….to a place free of billboards. Buses wrapped in something to sell. Drive-throughs. Being stalked by bargain hunters circling for your spot. Pushed and shoved by commuters thick who’ve left their manners at home. Blasted for taking your time. Fingered for errors along the way.
No. I want to stand in hot, steaming cow poo in sloppy boots that scuff along gravel tracks. Sniff the coats of horses. Toss fans of grain to bossy chooks. Squirt full cream milk from an udder warm to touch – save some for the snow white cat. Poach an egg of bright, bright orange plucked straight from a nesting hen (which seems a touch cruel for a city slicking, supermarket savy sort). Doesn’t pay to think to long, so on and on I’ll go…
Bottle feed the orphan lambs yet to lose their tails. Stick grubby fingers into mouths of calves to fee the suckle of a spiky tongue. Dodge the hungry pegs of pigs in mud and mosh and slush. Say ‘hello’ to sweat and dirt – say ‘goodbye’ to clean. Wake to cock-a-doodle-do and moo.
And I’ll come back home feeling pleasantly stripped of all things urban and clean. With a John Wayne walk from long forest rides. Feeling oh, so pleasantly sozzled from lazy long days free of clocks and diaries oh so full. And no internet connection – eeeh haaa!