The Cows Have Gone . . . . . . . . .

back down to the farm for their TB testing. The field at the back of our garden is now deserted. In fact the field looks like a desert - the remaining grass is flattened and brown with spikey skeletons of thistles. I miss the cows constant gentle movement, the metronomic swishing of tails, flicking of ears, the calves keeping close to their mothers but occasionally having a frisky moment with a friend. I hope they will grace us with their presence later on in the year. Rescue Dog probably thinks different he is frightened of cows (spiders also).