Wipe Your Face

Yesterday evening, I watched this peaceful scene of one of the calves nursing. When he came up for air however, he looked like this:

His face was soaked in milk, and he had left his tongue hanging out. If you were his mother, you’d tell him to clean up right?

But then if the side of your face was covered in mud, your words wouldn’t hold much weight would they?

“He looks just fine to me,” she says.


Cattle, corn, wheat, beans, mud, snow, ice, and drought. Plenty of fresh air and quiet. Our life is sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes joyous, but never boring.

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