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I drove out to pick up Princess from the bus at the old farmhouse and there was a pretty black cow, broken out of the fence, in the road. It’s one of Lonnie’s cows. I got to the old farmhouse and tried to call Londa, his daughter (and Steve-the-Builder’s wife) because I don’t know Lonnie’s number. No answer. Then Princess didn’t get off the bus. I called the school. She missed the bus.
I told Georgia, “I’m going to get Princess. Can you call Lonnie and tell him one of his cows is in the road?” I knew she’d have his number. He mows her hay every year.
Back with Princess. I drive by the old farmhouse and there’s Georgia, loading up her car with my cousin’s 16-year-old in the driver’s seat.
I stop, roll down my window. “What are you doing?” I ask.
Georgia: “Lonnie didn’t answer the phone. I’m going to get that cow.”
Me: “No, you’re not. You can’t get a cow!”
Georgia: “Yes, I can.”
She needs a keeper. Not that this was the first thing streaking through my head.
Me: “You can’t do that when I don’t have my camera with me!” (What am I doing without my camera? I always have my camera!)
Georgia: “Yes, I can.”
She is sooooo difficult. And 78. Did I mention she’s 78? She and her grandson are going to go get a cow.
Me: “Go see if you can find Lonnie around his house somewhere. Maybe he’s outside.”
That’s the ticket. DELAY. At the pace she lets Madison drive, it’ll take her 15 minutes just to drive a mile up the road to Lonnie’s house and ascertain that they can’t find him. Meanwhile, I race back to our new farmhouse to get my camera. And hijack 14.
Me: “We have to go help Georgia get a cow.”
14: “I can’t get a cow.”
Me: “No, and neither can Georgia, but we need to take pictures. And stop her from jumping on its back and riding it over the hill.”
We race (and I use the term “race” loosely since you can’t go more than 15-20 miles an hour on our road without killing yourself) back to the cow. This is a good one! Must have pictures! Very exciting. Almost like when we had that traffic jam on our country road!
There’s Georgia and Madison, parked at the side of the road. No cow in the road.
Me: “Where’s the cow? I raced back here to stop you from jumping on its back and riding it over the hill.”
Georgia: “Oh, it went back in on its own.”
::thunk::
And so I leave you with photos of peaceful, pastoral, innocent cows……
Though I really wanted to leave you with a picture of Georgia wrangling a rebellious cow. Not that I would have let her do that just so I could take a picture.
Really.
I wouldn’t.
At least I think I wouldn’t……
Posted by Suzanne McMinn | Permalink
