One of the things I look forward to most about the move to Ireland are my cows. By MY cows I mean the cows that belong to the farmer that lives just down the hill from our house. You can nearly set your watch by those cows, coming up from the valley in the morning and returning in the evening. I'll never forget the first time I saw them--Seamus woke me up and said come to the window!!" And there, coming up the path straight at us--97 of the sweetest, most beautiful black and white Chik-fil-a cows I'd ever seen. They were taking their daily walk, what I now call the Cow Parade, that takes them up the hill, a sharp left turn in front of our house, and then a right to continue to the upper pasture. Many a morning I've opened the upstairs window and moo-ed at them, which normally causes a quick stop by a few of them followed by a cold stare. I don't care, this is one of those "life is good" euphoric moments that is joy at its simplest. When I'm not in Ireland, Seamus often shows me the cows through the window via Skype. Recently he told me that the cows stayed in the pasture directly in front of the house all night, which immediately caused me to worry that my bovine babies are keeping warm. Seamus told Farmer Kevin that I had said not to be surprised if the next time that happens he finds them each covered in a blanket in the morning. To which the farmer replied, "Tell her she's going to need a shit load of blankets!"
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