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It shouldn’t come as any surprise that my favorite parts of the fair are the animals.
Have you kissed a cow today?
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I did.
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Cow!
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My husband grew up on a dairy farm.
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He gives good cow scratches.
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Moo!
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While I love cows, my husband is always impressed with the draft horses.
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I can’t even imagine what it must cost to feed these big boys.
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That’s a whole lotta horseflesh.
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And here are a few porkers.
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Just because.
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Just a few glimpses into our backyard.
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Baby chucks are nibbling at an extremely rapid rate. But I’ve discovered they like broccoli stalks so I’m hoping I can keep their teeth busy for a while.
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We had a cool and wet June so the Baltimore Orioles who usually take off for colder, more northern parts when it starts to heat up are still here.
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And they’re devouring the oranges and grape jelly faster than I can replace them.
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The young males fight and squabble over the best position… but they sure are pretty.
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Cow!
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I love that I can say this every time I step outside instead of having to wait for a road trip.
My husband informs me that my nomenclature is incorrect as this is technically a young bull. But squealing bull! doesn’t have the same resonance… so I am compromising with Mister Cow!
This earns an eye roll and a head shake which somehow makes it even more perfect.
😈
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Here’s a giant field of lupine situated in an odd place.
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Next to the local dump. Trash never looked so good…
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Twenty one years ago… when we moved back to Maine and bought our house in the country, I gazed across the road at the giant empty field and dreamt of cows.
Yes, I’m that person. The one you take on road trips who points out the window and yells cow! every time she spots one.
I’m not sure why. I certainly didn’t grow up with bovines in New Jersey, but I’ve always found something immensely soothing about watching cows graze quietly in a meadow.
As you know, the property across the road was sold to an organic vegetable farmer… and while over the years he’s had goats and chickens and ducks, nary a cow has been spotted.
I’d given up my dream of wandering across the street and making hooved friends.
But last weekend?
I spotted something wonderful next door.
Something I never thought I’d see….
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Woot!
Cow!!
Well, a two week old calf to be precise… happily munching our neighbors front lawn. One ecstatic phone call later I learned he’s actually a class project for a grand daughter. Feed and raise a cow? That was never part of my school curriculum, but yay!
Our neighbor told me she has a feeling the adorable (cow!) project will more than likely be a permanent resident when all is said and done.
And I am beyond thrilled.
Cow!!!!
💕
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No matter where you are in Vermont, there are barns.
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And if you’re traveling with my husband, there is envy.
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Because no matter how much he improves his own Barn Mahal/ man cave, somewhere someone has done more.
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This barn had an apartment.
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This barn was haunted. It’s hard to top that.
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The white barn didn’t really look like a barn, but it was.
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Barns with cows…
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And barns without cows. He loves them all.
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And so after a spur of the moment, last minute mini getaway… we headed home. Wishing we could stay longer and see Vermont’s foliage at its peak.
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Leaving the little town of Jeffersonville we passed what’s become a landmark.
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An artfully painted silo celebrating the area’s agricultural roots.
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We said goodbye to cows. (Alright, that was me. The husband grew up milking them and couldn’t care less)
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Did I mention there are a lot of cows in Vermont?
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There’s also a lot of corn.
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So much corn.
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Seriously, the stuff is everywhere.
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Fortified with a wonderful meal, we continued our aimless wandering through Vermont.
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It’s hard to take a bad photo there, especially in the fall. Mountains, trees, and cows.
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Mountains, cows, and farms.
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Every once in a while you’ll pass through a town.
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Then it’s back to mountains, trees, and cows.
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And a very serious porch lover.
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Also, there were fish.
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I have no explanation for random fish, but they were delightful all the same.
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At times Vermont feels like another world. The pace is slower, the air is cleaner and we didn’t see a single McDonalds or Dollar General the whole time we were there. Talk about refreshing.
The residents are independent, hardy New England stock and while that might be off putting to some, it just means you have to dig a little deeper to find the sense of humor lurking beneath.
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Like this farm store where they welcome you with pumpkins..
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And provide some interesting alternative modes of transportation.
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Think Santa’s sleigh… but with cows.
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Everywhere we looked? Something made me laugh.
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Good to know. Thanks.
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Yes, it’s a trash can.
Nothing funny there, but…
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A trash can you’re not supposed to use? Funny.
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Nothing funny about the subject, but I laughed all the same.
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I really wanted to buy this tee shirt. But apparently so did everyone else because there was only one left, size extra small… and to be honest I doubt I was even born that size.
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Vermont is a predominantly rural state. It wouldn’t surprise me if the cows outnumber the people, and that’s fine by me. In this rural landscape, you’ll see barns.
Lots and lots of barns.
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Red barns.
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Brown barns.
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Barns with cows outside.
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And barns with cows inside.
My husband was positively beside himself the whole time we were there. Every time we’d pass an old, slightly neglected looking barn he’d mumble about getting inside and poking around for old tools and treasure. Thankfully I managed to restrain him before he was arrested for trespassing, but the dreaming over what might be inside continued… until it reached its peak here.
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A round, and extremely well cared for barn.
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Attached to a large farm house which turned out to be a lovely inn, he was besotted.
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It was all I could do to keep him in the car.
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Admittedly it was a beautiful thing, but not the type of place that would take kindly to random strangers poking around unsupervised.
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Now that’s what I call the perfect mailbox.
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Because we could all use a bit more of that these days.
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Maybe not, but it looks like a lot more fun.
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I’m confused. In my glory days my breasts looked nothing like a cow….
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And by now? My tolerance is pretty high.
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If he’s like me, it’s the fact that your sentence ends with a preposition.
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In Maine, things can be a little different.
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But a definitely good kind of different.
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I lobbied hard for this cute little piggy joining the Casa River family ( for pure blog fodder alone, he’s golden ) but was met with a resounding no from the husband.
Sorry Wilbur.
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Mysteriously multiplying tin cows?
I really do love my town.
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River's world..... 