Margarita

Torn Ear comes looking for peanuts shortly after 0530 now and no doubt as dawn arrives earlier, so will she. As Lily has been singing to me lately at 2 am, my nights are somewhat abbreviated currently, which does not mean I haven’t time for some fascinating dreams.

Last night, I seemed to be the owner of a very large house which had become invaded by a number of friends and their voluminous possessions. One brought quantities of bubble-wrap that filled every room, floor to ceiling. Another friend had taken control of my garden, where she cultivated rows of vegetables and was actively attempting to keep separated a large flock of geese and turkeys from a herd of goats and donkeys.

As I protested loudly, in vain, a third friend arrived with her mother – in a Pope-mobile.

It was at this point that Lily began her nightly wail, causing me to stagger out of bed and blunder about the house. Having not donned my glasses, my vision was kaleidoscopic, which only added to my befuddlement!

From what I understand, people take drugs to achieve this sort of state, which begs the question – why?

No pharmaceuticals were used in my case, I can assure you.

.

These dreams, I am sure, are a product of living in a world overtaken by utter madness. My house stuffed full of other people’s possessions such that there was no room for me – a reflection of feeling stifled in a country become out-of-control.

That my complaints were unheard – who’s are?

The bit about vegetable gardens was no doubt due to yesterday’s conversation with Grant about his outdoor plans for the summer.

Just before I went to bed, I read an article by Akash Kapur in the New Yorker about a scientist who was aboard the MV Hondius, famous for the Hantavirus outbreak.

The voyages I took with friends years ago were luckily free of any such drama but by all accounts, the ships we sailed in were very similar. It was one of the friends from those days who was digging in the garden of last night’s dream.

The ladies who arrived in my dream aboard a Pope-mobile are both deceased and I cannot imagine what summoned them to that epic.

.

The barnyard animals I can totally account for:

Grant returned from an outing on Monday with exciting news, which happens frequently when he goes out with our neighbour for ice cream. Ed has lived up here most of his life and constantly throws out snippets of interesting information.

On Monday, though, they just happened to catch sight of something driving by.

Now, I appreciate that it may well not seem in the least exciting to most people…

.

But we have a great fondness for Highland cattle.

They are obviously not native to Upstate New York, so we were surprised to see one at a farm near Cambridge when we first arrived. Then, as we began taking excursions around the countryside, we sometimes saw one or two elsewhere.

Capturing a photograph was almost never possible. Grant came home excited the other day because he had seen several cattle – very close to the road.

We had to go out anyway and it was a fine day, so we shot off in that direction. With a little luck, perhaps the cattle would still be there.

We drove by, intending to make a u-turn and come back in order to be on the right side of the road. As we passed, Grant noticed a young girl in the field taking photographs.

“I’m going to ask her if she minds…” he said.

.

No, she didn’t mind at all. In fact, it seems that the ranch sometimes has open days when people are invited to meet the herd. (They like Fig-Newtons!)

Thrilled, I scrambled out of the car and over to the fence.

.

The girl was taking photos of this calf which had been born the day before.

.

Its mum was black. We’d not realised Highland cattle came in that colour.

.

Black with fetching red highlights. She led her baby away to another field.

.

In that other field was a little black calf (Hamish), which had been born two days earlier. He was too far away to see properly, but we did get to meet a couple of the grown-ups.

.

This beautiful red-head declined to meet us. She had other priorities.

.

But these two were quite keen to say hello.

Too bad we hadn’t known about those Fig-Newtons!

.

The blonde was expecting a calf imminently.

.

She stuck her massive nose through the fence and let me stroke her head.

Her ear tag displayed her name: Kylie.

.

Her friend didn’t get close enough to disclose its name.

.

But it offered me a couple of poses.

As a little girl, I was terrified of cows, though I suspect I would have been happy enough to talk to one on the other side of a fence, which made me wonder how I would feel about being in the field with these cattle. They are gentle, lovely creatures, but they are huge.

Common sense of course dictates that one should not approach any animal with offspring and I think it is wise to use caution with animals of significant size, especially if you are not familiar with them.

But I couldn’t help thinking how lovely it would be to put my arms around that fluffy neck. They made me feel all warm and happy, particularly when I heard that they are not kept as beef cattle.

They live at the Triple C Ranch in Schuylerville, NY.

.