The Land of Flying Cows
I'm home again, from the land of flying cows,
where old dogs become young again,
where the sun is gold,
the mornings cold,
and where everything slows for me. It was a quick visit, just two nights and two full days. It's late now, and I'm finally ready to go to sleep. But I came home replenished, and able to count my blessings properly again. 
That's no small thing. It is, in fact, huge. It's what I've poking and picking at for most of this year. I needed to stop watching the clock of my life as the hands moved inexorably over the face of the year, to move into the moment and stay firmly rooted. She knows. And now I do, too. It was a good rest. I listened. When I do, Crow never leads me wrong.
where old dogs become young again,
where the sun is gold,
the mornings cold,
and where everything slows for me. It was a quick visit, just two nights and two full days. It's late now, and I'm finally ready to go to sleep. But I came home replenished, and able to count my blessings properly again. 
That's no small thing. It is, in fact, huge. It's what I've poking and picking at for most of this year. I needed to stop watching the clock of my life as the hands moved inexorably over the face of the year, to move into the moment and stay firmly rooted. She knows. And now I do, too. It was a good rest. I listened. When I do, Crow never leads me wrong.
posted by Crowzma | 1:51 AM
4 Comments:
I am so glad you came back refreshed. You mush always listen to the Crow. She knows best.
Happy New Year Gin.
The farm sounds like a magical place. Crow and Hudson look like they had a wonderful time too.
These are great photos!
Thanks, Alisa. They are easy subjects. The photos were taken by their breeder, whose eye, both in breeding and artistically, is unerring.
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