We walked out to look at Sweetheart this evening before bed.  She is four days past due calving, but seems unconcerned about it, a state I can’t appreciate, having always been wildly impatient under such circumstances.  The night promises to be cool, and we sat in the orchard with children on our laps trying to stay warm.  Other children slid under the hot wire to play with Rosa, the month-old black heifer calf, who came to see what was up and then stayed to play a game of peekaboo with a pair of tennis shoes.  The children lay on their backs in the grass and the cows, who can never resist a recumbent human being, came and sniffed their hair.

This year we are moving faster over the pastures, watching the orchard grass head out and trying to make our way all the way around in forty days on the second pass.  Despite the scant rainfall, the regrowth has been rapid, and we are teetering between wondering if we will be short on forage in July, or if we should clip behind the cows.  Guesswork, really, there are arguments both ways —