Today I hauled some alfalfa compost out to one
of the new windbreaks to apply to the little golden willows. The job would have
taken minutes, not hours, except that most of the tree fences were nearly
disassembled and required reshaping and rewiring. Many of the t-posts that the
fences been fastened to were also bent this way and that. The black hairs stuck
in the fencing, trampled ground, some broken willows, and the many cowpies
revealed that the culprits were of bovine ilk, and they must have mistaken the
tree cages for scratching implements. Ironically, there are two mature tamarisk
trees (a weed and a nuisance, in these parts) only yards away that they could have scratched on.
I’m tempted to take back every good thing I’ve
ever said about cows!
A victim of an itch.
“A bruised
reed He will not break, and a dimly burning wick He will not quench….” –ISAIAH 42:3
No comments:
Post a Comment