The Long Run 9/23/12

September 23, and it was 36 degrees at wakeup. Oh, fall has a start this year, a good start. It was a novel feeling to wait for it to warm up enough to go out for my long Sunday run. I'd been anticipating it all week. And decided I had to bring my camera along. You'll understand why.

There are now a dozen cattle in the haymeadow, as there were last fall. I was elated when they were trucked over and let loose. They're all heifers, look like mostly Limousins, a couple of Hereford/Angus, with a lovely, very young black bull who could either be Angus or Limousin. Still thinking about him, but leaning toward Limousin.

I love having cows near because I find them fascinating and very beautiful, especially when backlit. 

Backlit cows' breath hangs

On silvergold morning air

Good thing light changes.

I'd stand here all day

rooted, ogling the beasts

Shaggy thick angels.

They give me someone to talk to. This is quite a spooky wild little bunch and I'm having fun gentling them, working with their natural curiosity to befriend them. 

Chet Baker likes having cows around, too.

He really wants to play with them. Truth told, he'd probably like to herd them a bit, or at least get them running so he can give chase. 

I love this shot. Hard to believe that tiny little live wire in the upper right quadrant is all that keeps us apart. Sometimes it doesn't work too well.

Cows, being herd animals, are often inspired to follow when you run ahead of them. I guess they figure you have a reason to run and they'd better get going, too. Last year's bunch ran with me until they got bored doing it. This bunch is very green and excitable, and they run alongside me whenever I go out.  Chet got pretty excited, too, when the cows took off and quick as lightning he slipped under the wire and frisked a little bit with them.  CHET CHET CHET GET OUTTA THERE!!

I saw him rear up on his hinders and jump at this boss cow. She responded by bogging her head and hooking his shoulder with her nose. It wasn't a full-on butt, but it wasn't nothing, either. She caught Chet on the shoulder and shoved him aside. At that point he decided to listen to me and come back under the tiny fine wire to the road. The ear position here says it all.

Hm. Those things are large. And strong, and harder than they look. Perhaps Mether is right about going under the wire.

If you would like, I can speak to your dog about coming in the pasture with my wimmen. 

Sorry, Sir. Will try to prevent such incidents going forward.

We forged onward, noting that the coons are eating persimmons already. See the seed that fell out of the dropping?  Must check under my trees to see if they've begun to fall. The fruit, that is. Not the coons.

We looked down the beautiful county road at Carl's house. I probably have 50 pictures of Carl's house in the morning. There are so few original Ohio farmhouses left.

There's always this wonderful moment when Chet realizes we're going on the 5-mile run and he gets to head out on the main road. He trots loose and fast and his hinders fly out side to side, he's so happy.

and so am I, because we get to live here and see things that take my breath away every day. Especially on a crystal pure September morning when it's still in the 30's in the shade.

Up at the top of the next hill and looking back where we started. It's all hills, more or less. Flats are welcome but all too rare. You're either going down or coming up.

Cow hair caught on the barbed wire, Chet investigating.

We get to live here and see this every day.

On Sunday mornings if you go out before church traffic, you won't meet a soul. May it always be that way.

I thought the pine shadows looked like palm trees. Oh and look. That one has arms and shorts.

Fergus' pond hoves into view. This is the little farm pond where I let my bird-eating bullfrog go many, many years ago. Story in Letters from Eden. 

It is the most beautiful of ponds. 

with a little cabin I would like to inhabit. All I would need is something to scribble on and a Honeycrisp apple. And Chet. I'd sit on the porch and write a book about my dog.

Wait. I'm already doing that.  More running anon. If I showed the whole route to you at once you'd curl up from the beauty.