The Field And The Cows And the Scary Car

While I was in Wisconsin last week, I did one of my all time favorite things in the whole world.

I got in the car. And I drove. Alone. For three hours straight. 

I cannot even begin to express to you the level of bliss this outing created for me; driving aimlessly in the country is on the Top Ten List of my favorite things to do.

I went up and down country roads. To and through country intersections.  I drove from daylight into sunset on roads that stretched into endless, inviting vistas.

As I drove, I saw signs that made me smile . . .

… and I saw signs that I never see in Manteo—like Tractor Crossing.

I saw fields and hills and grass and sky . . .

And I saw cows.

Yep. Cows. In the heart of Wisconsin’s dairy land.

Imagine that!

And not only did I see cows . . .

but the cows also saw me.

They were very interested, indeed, in what the strange woman holding the small metal box was doing in the middle of their cowdom. 

Sadly, though, in the midst of all the aforementioned cowdom, and the silence, and the beauty, I suddenly became aware of the sound of a car coming over the hill; I peeked out of the corner of my eye and saw it coming right toward me.

Although I wasn’t thrilled about my solitude being interrupted, I figured the driver would quickly whiz on past with maybe a cheerful toot on the horn or a friendly wave. However, much to my consternation, I noticed that the vehicle was slowing down. Way, way down.

And there I was. Near dusk. Alone. On a deserted road.

Was the driver of this car an ax murderer? An escaped convict?  Would I be able to run to the cows for protection?

Why oh why was this mysterious vehicle going slower and slower and slower as it headed in my direction? I tried to nonchalantly continue to take pictures and pretend that it wasn’t coming. But it was.

Finally, when the car came to a complete stop right near me, I realized I could ignore it no longer.  My fate was sealed. There was nowhere to run from whomever or whatever awaited me.

So I took a deep breath and slowly turned around to look.

This is what I saw.

Dogs!  (I would much rather see dogs than an ax murderer any ol’ day!)  The nice woman in the car explained to me that her dogs just love to go out for country drives and look at the cows.

Who knew that cows could be so endlessly fascinating that one North Carolina woman, one Wisconsin couple, and two canines would all gather on the side of the road just to stare at them? (While they stared back at us.)

As simple as cow-staring sounds to the uninitiated, may I just suggest that you try it sometime?  Life doesn’t get much better than getting to experience that sort of sweet, fun, simple joy. 

As the dogs and the car and the cows eventually moved along, as the day wound to a close, and as the sun lay down to rest on the horizon . . .

I remembered all the reasons I love Wisconsin, the land of my childhood.

Grass and fields. Sun and sky. And cows.

So blessed.