[et_pb_section bb_built=”1″ admin_label=”Section” fullwidth=”on” specialty=”off”][et_pb_fullwidth_post_title admin_label=”Fullwidth Post Title” title=”on” meta=”on” author=”on” date=”on” categories=”on” comments=”on” featured_image=”on” featured_placement=”background” parallax_effect=”on” parallax_method=”on” text_orientation=”left” text_color=”light” text_background=”on” text_bg_color=”rgba(0,0,0,0.73)” module_bg_color=”rgba(0,0,0,0.63)” title_font_size=”40px” title_text_color=”#ffffff” meta_text_color=”#efefef” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid” /][/et_pb_section][et_pb_section bb_built=”1″ admin_label=”section”][et_pb_row admin_label=”Row”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″][et_pb_divider admin_label=”Divider” color=”#ffffff” show_divider=”off” divider_style=”solid” divider_position=”top” hide_on_mobile=”on” height=”30″ /][/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”4_4″][/et_pb_column][/et_pb_row][et_pb_row admin_label=”row”][et_pb_column type=”1_3″][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text” background_layout=”light” text_orientation=”left” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid”]
Today
I met an escape artist.
Not quite perhaps the kind you’d expect
one with glitter and leotard,
maybe even a cape.
No.
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I was sitting on the front porch –
just having transplanted two handfuls
of oysterplants from under Charlie,
one of our giant Southern Live Oaks,
to around one of our adonida palms –
admiring how nice the moved plants looked.
It’d been a bit of a crappy day,
for no particular reason –
jewelry pieces not coming out of the kiln
the way they should
and falling apart,
a supply order
needing a new payment method,
being hangry all day because
it’s not quite yet in the budget to go grocery shopping,
and just fighting a general sense of
futile hopeless
what’s-the-point-itis,
so it was a nice change
to get out and dig in the dirt –
well, white sand with some dirt in it –
of what will be the front gardens,
but are right now
mostly still weeds and stickerburrs
and lonely, lonely grass.
All the same,
gardening is my happy place,
even if saying that
I am reclaiming neglected property
is being generous,
because I maybe do five plants at a time.
(This place needs a lot more than that,
but it will be slow progress
that I thoroughly enjoy.
I should take a photo of the jasmine
we found yesterday for y’all.)
But I digress.
I was sitting on the front porch,
with Steve,
who he was listening to his nightly
HAM radio calls,
when the dogs went batshit in the back.
I figured it was a cat.
We’re still convincing the 20+ cats
the former owner had straying around
to relocate,
and the dogs hate them.
Steve went to check on what the deal was.
Mostly because the dogs were barking
a little more enthusiastically than usual.
Then Steve yelled for me.
Aaaand THAT’S when we met
the neighborhood escape artist.
[/et_pb_text][/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”2_3″][et_pb_divider admin_label=”Divider” color=”#ffffff” show_divider=”off” height=”150″ disabled=”off” disabled_on=”on|on|” divider_style=”solid” divider_position=”top” hide_on_mobile=”on” /][et_pb_image admin_label=”Image” src=”https://www.abigailmarkov.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/17972447_10154490769181220_7373626161592921745_o.jpg” show_in_lightbox=”on” url_new_window=”off” use_overlay=”off” animation=”right” sticky=”off” align=”left” force_fullwidth=”off” always_center_on_mobile=”on” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid” /][/et_pb_column][/et_pb_row][et_pb_row admin_label=”Row”][et_pb_column type=”2_3″][et_pb_divider admin_label=”Divider” color=”#ffffff” show_divider=”off” divider_style=”solid” divider_position=”top” hide_on_mobile=”on” height=”30″ /][et_pb_image admin_label=”Image” src=”https://www.abigailmarkov.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/18010319_10154490899601220_5884503075244814320_n.jpg” alt=”Ms Houdinii Redcow.” title_text=”Ms Houdinii Redcow.” show_in_lightbox=”on” url_new_window=”off” use_overlay=”off” animation=”left” sticky=”off” align=”left” force_fullwidth=”off” always_center_on_mobile=”on” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid” /][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text” background_layout=”light” text_orientation=”left” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid”]
That, y’all, is a red cow.
In our side yard.
It turns out
(I discovered after I waved down a neighbor
in their golf-cart-ATV-buggy-vehicle)
the neighbor who rents the pasture
at the far end of the dirt road
that runs along one side of our place
has an escape artist cow,
that no matter how hard they try
they just can’t keep in the pasture.
The whole neighborhood knows
and has seen this cow,
and this explains
the hoof prints
and large, uh, droppings,
that we’ve recently found
around our side yard.
The new neighbor I met,
a friendly lady named Denise,
who owns the orange groves
across that dirt road
(well, she and her husband)
explained they’ve not figured out how
Ms. Houdinii Redcow
is getting out,
but our other neighbor told Steve
(he ran over there,
thinking it might be THEIR cow,
as they do have a few cows)
told Steve that he thought
the escape cow
was just jumping the fence.
And this is how
at the end of a rather crummy day
I met a new neighbor
and came face to face
with an escape artist cow.
By the way, scared cows?
When they run,
move out of the way.
Cows,
especially when there’s
nothing between
you and that freaked out cow,
are BIG…
and surprisingly fast
when you see them
running across your front yard.
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