It was a day of weather that only Spring can deliver – hot sun, without the oppression of summer humidity; balmy wind, without the hindrance of looming thunderstorms; full day ahead of more of the same, without being the middle of the week. We were driving into the nearby Teeny-Tiny Town for something or other, and my husband remembered – as he always does – to slow down at a particular spot by a favorite cow pasture. There, close enough that we could see details, was a brown and white cow, lying down by a blown-over tree, with a shiny bundle of something behind her.
“She’s having a calf,” Bob remarked, slowing down a little more.
“She’s having a calf?” I screeched, hands a-flutter and eyes a-goggle. “She’s having a calf!”