Cows

My neighbor, Ramone, has owned the property next to me since the early 60's. Ramone worked for the railroad and lived in town for many years, but he kept cattle out on his land and about twenty years ago he finally built a house out here. When he was in his 30's he built the fence around his pasture from trees he cut down along the river bank.
Over the years the fence has begun to sink and sag and fall and sway and break and crumble and, well, deteriorate.

Ramone has an interesting way of mending fences.

He uses whatever he has on hand. He has a lot of orange bailing twine on hand.

He also has boards and poles and odd scraps of metal and blocks of concrete and broken gates and a Volkswagen Van. All these things are crucial to his fence mending.


But, no matter how much orange bailing twine Ramone ties on the bits of wire that he calls a fence....



his cows manage to get out everyday. At least four cows are in my yard all day. It used to startle me to walk out and see these beasts grazing on my lawn.


But, now I just look at them and they look at me. I try to move them to areas where I'd like a little grass trimming done.


But, they don't listen me. So, eventually Preacher, my dog, and I walk them back into the pasture, over the orange bailing twine and around the Volkswagen Van and through the bits of wire and poles and concrete blocks. The cows look at me and I look at them and we say, "Okay, same time tomorrow? Yep, see ya tomorrow."