Since you may not understand Paul’s glee over composting, let me remind you of Linda, the cow I like - her photo originally appeared in the first part of the blog.
Since she started helping with the composting, she has learned her name. I say this because yesterday, I had orange rinds, too, but the cattle weren't grazing where they normally are - they were about a block from the road, in the pasture across from a Panamanian family's weekend house (they have a fabulous flower garden and full time gardener).Paul pulled over and I hopped out of the Jeep with the bag of orange rinds from our breakfast juice and called, "Linda! Linda!" She answered with an enthusiastic moo. The gardener forgot what he was supposed to be watering and just stared at the sight of a cow called 'Pretty' running toward the fence ... Two bulls ( Ja-Ja Binks the big gray brahma, with huge floppy ears and Butterscotch a big orange and white guy) were close on her hooves
and since those guys were heading toward me, half the rest of the herd came a scooting, too.The poor gardener looked ready to beat feet in the opposite direction.
Ehem, anyway, Linda gulped down 3 halves before the guys arrived.
The highlight of Paul's day was having Ja-Ja eat right out of his hand.
The cows stopped at the fence, so the gardner held his ground. People around here sure do mop their brows a lot.
Of course, since half the herd responded, perhaps they think Linda means 'free oranges'..... And to me, it’s a great way to get Paul eager to take out the refuse.
