Blooms, moo-ves and sweetness...

 It is lily season in Maine. My gardens have a variety of colors blooming, all gifted by friends. That makes them much more special. 

The wild birds kindly plant sunflowers for me here and there. I let them grow if they are not in a totally inconvenient place. This one is as tall as I am and growing in the hen yard. 

When we moved here twenty-one years ago, I brought a root from this purple coneflower from Memphis. It has flourished here. Last week, I cut a bunch of them and put them in a cobalt blue vase on the table. The Owlet saw them and said, "Oh, so cute!" 

Farmer Cheryl and Mike came today to collect the three cows that have been grazing in our pasture since May. They have done a bang-up job, and only weeds they don't like remain. The ladies were way up at the top of the field. Cheryl called, "Here, boss!" Moxie, the oldest cow, raised her head and mooed loudly. "Here, Boss!" Cheryl repeated. All three cows came to her at a dead run. I've seen dogs that won't come when called, but these cows have an impressive recall. 

They put halters on the cows, and Mike masterfully got them across the lawn and into the trailer. One of them was not terribly cooperative, but in the end, all was well, and they moved to a new, lush pasture nearby. Soon, our fields will be mowed, and if we have rain and the grass grows, the cows will be back to decorate our views. I miss their benevolent presence here already. 

Chris and I worked together on an unpleasant project today, but we accomplished it together, and it felt good. We make a good team. Music playing, side by side, no words needed. While we worked, Chris smoked some delicious beef ribs, and it was a delight to smell them cooking all day. We had them with local corn on the cob and warm ciabatta rolls. It was a picnic fable feast, with dancing goats for entertainment. It is summer, and life is sweet.