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This is the start of:
Music for Life Week
National Therapeutic Recreation Week
National Laundry Workers' Week
Take Charge of Change Week
National Laughter Week
Today is:
National Convenience Store Day (7/11 7 eleven opened 1927)
Vegetarian Food Day
Cheer up the Lonely Day
Barn Day
All American Pet Photo Day
I like the fact that it's Barn Day.
I love barns. I love the smell of hay and silage. I love the warmth of a barn on a freezing January morning. I love the way the cows always use the same stall. I love how, no matter how much hay is directly in front of a cow, it will always try to eat the hay that's in front of the cows next to it. I love seeing the hay dust the filters drifts through beams of sunlight that stream in through the windows. I love the roughness of a cows tongue and how it rasps across your jeans or shirt. Calves, when they're born on a cool night, steam as their mother licks them clean. The molasses mixed in with the cow food smells as good as anything you could bake but tastes just like the dried corn and grains it is. Fresh straw is this color of dark sunshine and, once you see it, you understand why Rumpelstiltzkin spun gold from it. Fresh milk is a beautiful ivory color and the cream makes the richest, most delicious ice cream ever. Hay, when you first cut open the bale, falls apart in these tight, pressed layers that have to be shaken loose; identical books of hay, three to a cow. When you walk into the barn, late at night, all the animals in it stir, just a little, and greet you with a soft lowing that says "welcome" (or "I'm hungry, feed me", sometimes it's hard to tell the difference).
Like I said. I love barns.
Music for Life Week
National Therapeutic Recreation Week
National Laundry Workers' Week
Take Charge of Change Week
National Laughter Week
Today is:
National Convenience Store Day (7/11 7 eleven opened 1927)
Vegetarian Food Day
Cheer up the Lonely Day
Barn Day
All American Pet Photo Day
I like the fact that it's Barn Day.
I love barns. I love the smell of hay and silage. I love the warmth of a barn on a freezing January morning. I love the way the cows always use the same stall. I love how, no matter how much hay is directly in front of a cow, it will always try to eat the hay that's in front of the cows next to it. I love seeing the hay dust the filters drifts through beams of sunlight that stream in through the windows. I love the roughness of a cows tongue and how it rasps across your jeans or shirt. Calves, when they're born on a cool night, steam as their mother licks them clean. The molasses mixed in with the cow food smells as good as anything you could bake but tastes just like the dried corn and grains it is. Fresh straw is this color of dark sunshine and, once you see it, you understand why Rumpelstiltzkin spun gold from it. Fresh milk is a beautiful ivory color and the cream makes the richest, most delicious ice cream ever. Hay, when you first cut open the bale, falls apart in these tight, pressed layers that have to be shaken loose; identical books of hay, three to a cow. When you walk into the barn, late at night, all the animals in it stir, just a little, and greet you with a soft lowing that says "welcome" (or "I'm hungry, feed me", sometimes it's hard to tell the difference).
Like I said. I love barns.
