This is the fine post my blogger friend Ben Hewitt posted yesterday:
Every day I drive the gravel road toward home, from one outing or another, and I see the flush of green creeping slowly up the mountain. Every day a little greener, a little higher. At home I feed the cows from the remaining reserves of hay, watch for a moment as they curl their long tongues around a chosen tuft, then retract the tongue and chew in that slow, side-to-side way of ruminants. Ignoring me. For what good am I now? They have their hay, and tomorrow must seem a long ways off.
It’s ok. They’ll like me again in the morning.
This is the comment that a reader named Clair left upon reading Ben’s post:
I love this life! Waiting for retirement!