Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Noticing Earthquakes and Cows

Yes, the earth quaked. The cupboard doors shivered, the joists audibly creaked. Here in my house nothing fell from cupboards, walls or shelves. Deep breath.

My first "real" earthquake experience was the October 1, 1987 Wittier Narrows quake in California. Every time, I find myself most disconcerted by the surprise of them, the fact they just suddenly happen, unpredicted, unexpected, in the midst of an ordinary hour, ordinary moment.

The cats noticed yesterday's quake, too. They ran and hid.

Yesterday and today I walked to Deer Creek. A lovely, dark-chocolate-colored Brown Swiss heifer browses among the Holstein herd in the meadow at the corner of Ady and Walter's Mill. She is sleek and healthy-looking, curious like cows are, her eyes so moist and long-lashed. She is beautiful in her being, in the midst of a herd of young beauties. As I walk past I greet them, "Hello, girls." They look at me carefully; they seem to see me and judge me as worthy of notice. It's a mutual thing.

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