Till the Cows Come Home

How many times have you made a statement about something that is not likely to happen? It had been a long time since I stated, “That won’t happen till the cows come home.”

I am now wondering what unlikely event has or will happen to us. I looked toward the mountains and saw two black calves suspiciously close to neighbor Dawn’s pergola. Which side of the fence were they on? The wrong side! I called John and wondered what we should do. Cows had come onto that property only once since we moved here. As I began to text Shawn, Bob, and former neighbor Amy, the animals moved toward us. Son $ and grandson David joined us, one of them saying, “till the cows come home.”

The calves wandered into our yard, checking out the grass which does indeed seem greener on our side of the fence. They nosed about our burn pit, grazed up the hill, and seemed to be enjoying their vacation.

072716 Calves in our yard.jpg

Shawn and Bob were in Vermont on a mission trip, but I texted them, anyway. It would have been in their interest to get the animals back in the pasture. There was no immediate response, so I sent a text message to Amy, now living in Charlotte. As soon as they responded with the owner’s name, I went on line to look it up. Rats! I had forgotten that it is almost impossible to find a private person’s number. About that time, David told me the calves had snuck back into their pasture. He saw them rejoining the herd on the right side of the fence.

We had our delayed dinner, grilled by grandson Nathaniel. That was followed by roasting marshmallows, something I hadn’t done in a Colonialist’s lifetime. I’m sure I last had a molten ‘mallow more than 30 years ago. What a divine treat! I’m not going to wait another 30 years, especially after Nathaniel read the label and said I’d eaten only 100 calories of sweets.

The other really unusual thing that happened that evening was a lightning storm. It began while we were playing with fire (and marshmallows). David found the best viewing was on the bedroom deck. He watched the silent show while I finished reading email for the day. I joined him outside to see streak after streak of lightning flash about the sky. Oddly, there was no thunder that we could hear. The show was still going on when I gave up and went to bed after 11 p.m. It had been a very satisfying day, the day the cows went home.

10 thoughts on “Till the Cows Come Home

    1. You are so right, Gary! My defense is that I rarely went to summer parties. Roasting marshmallows is like drinking — something you shouldn’t do alone on a regular basis. I am guilty as charged. We still have more than half a bag of marshmallows, so we will likely roast the rest of them before the boys return North.

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  1. You know I love a good cow story! I’m glad they came home a d moooved safely on! 30 years for a toasty marshmallow…good timing since “the cows came home” eat a few for me will ya!

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      1. For a toasty marshamllow…absolutely! Unfortunately diabetes prohibits the actuality of eating them…I’m going to live vicariously through you!!

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    1. I haven’t walked out in the yard since the calves visited. Amy complained about the time mature cows were on her property. Months later her sister helped her remove their unwanted deposits. I must say it was rather fun to see the animals enjoying their freedom.

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