Column space. It's a love-hate relationship to put it simply. There's so much to say but the words stop coming after about three paragraphs. Unable to connect my own dots...maybe that should take the place of this current moniker.
I have a folder titled 'Working columns' to prove it. The contents range from ethanol and ethnicity to health insurance and gift giving. Some of those were 'born' nearly three years ago and seemed so promising at the time.
More recently, I've been wanting to expand on my last column about the big picture vs. little picture idea of growing things. It was one of those things that 'hit' me in my Master Gardener class and almost as a theme, I could glean an example from each week's lesson. I penciled out the series more than a year ago and today, only round one is done.
My nights and weekends have been spent following tractors and trucks moving from field to field and I think, like a reader's great letter two weeks ago about drivers and horseback riders, maybe I should whip out something about drivers and slow-moving vehicles.
I could also wax rhapsodically about my tulips, lament my attempts to keep up a blog or fume about the stupid birds that think it's fun to venture down our chimney and fly around the basement.
But instead, I'll fall back on the usual crux of my columns—ah, the simple things in life...and cows. Simple things like calves being born. Yeah, that's it.
The heifer just appeared one Wednesday afternoon. She's all legs and guarded like a prized jewel by her mother. The bull calf had a slightly more difficult arrival and swelled head to show for it. This black and white brute has a future in the show ring, or so I'm told.
In a matter of three weeks, I've doubled my herd size and it's a good, unexplainable feeling. At a time when everything's being deconstructed and downsized, it's comforting to be accumulating something. They're tangible, alive and kicking. They hold promise... something my dusty, half-used columns once knew.