Because it is so appropriate, I borrowed Paul Simon's lyric for my title.
Like bookends, these Belgian draft horses are seldom far from one another. I've driven past their ten acre patch of land for nearly twenty years and have always seen them there, never more than a few feet apart. They share their large pasture with several head of Hereford cattle. All of them rummage through grass as long and dry as the day. Their shadows are August short and the day's searing heat rises breathlessly, stretching closer to 100 degrees with each passing hour.
But there is a pond that the cattle wade in and several large maples that they share with the horses. If it weren't for the hordes of face flies. this bucolic scene might be mistaken for idyllic.
Despite their imposing size the horses were nervous and shy, shuffling off and turning away whenever my camera was poised.
Like bookends, these Belgian draft horses are seldom far from one another. I've driven past their ten acre patch of land for nearly twenty years and have always seen them there, never more than a few feet apart. They share their large pasture with several head of Hereford cattle. All of them rummage through grass as long and dry as the day. Their shadows are August short and the day's searing heat rises breathlessly, stretching closer to 100 degrees with each passing hour.
But there is a pond that the cattle wade in and several large maples that they share with the horses. If it weren't for the hordes of face flies. this bucolic scene might be mistaken for idyllic.
Despite their imposing size the horses were nervous and shy, shuffling off and turning away whenever my camera was poised.
Old Friends, Bookends
I won't look at him.
Copyright 9/23/15 by Loren Schumacher
Photos: Copyright 9/23/15 by Loren Schumacher
No comments:
Post a Comment