Betsy Fable

Betsy is “just a cow” most would say. She’s dark rust, almost auburn in color, with large white patches all over her body and especially on her rather long, nosey face. She has deep, soft eyes the color of coffee and they tend to embrace my heart when I stare into them for too long. She lives for the scoops of feed I bring to her every day, pouring the nuggets into her bucket hurriedly, before she has the chance to use that powerful head to butt the feed from my grasp. She also enjoys her fair share of clover and hay. And, when we milk her, she gives us the rich almond cream which creates some of the best lemon-yellow butter that I’ve ever put on a baked potato, butter that tastes so good there isn’t a chance of mistaking it for store bought. At the beginning of 2020, I had no idea I’d be milking a cow, drinking delicious, fresh milk, eating fresh butter and cheese, while spending the majority of my spare time immersed in learning more about farm life. It wasn’t as if I’d never lived on a farm, though. When I was a child, I had lived on my grandparent’s farm where I’d seen my paw milk and watched my granny make butter. I’d left that experience behind me at the age of nine when my grandparents had moved to town, but the thoughts of those sweet moments embraced my spirit throughout my life. Now, in my more mature years, I was coming back to those soft, gentle days with my own ventures into farming. If someone had told me I would be “cow” crazy by the end of 2020, I would have laughed out loud. Why would they say such a thing? A cow?! What on earth were they thinking? But, a COW has dropped a anchor into my veins and I can’t go a day without reflecting on her wants and needs. She has become a pet who brings more joy than I can possibly explain. Her soft eyes melt my heart while her faithful nudge brings me joy that beams across my face when I smile at her affectionate shove. She truly is a cherished companion. Betsy brings out the heart’s deepest hopes For rural farm life, living with domestics A cow, a pig, a chicken… gifts of nature Who give back to the farmer with bountiful Treasures, gifts from the soul of heaven Milk, butter, bacon and eggs – in return For nurturing their livelihood, keeping Them safe from harm, from fox and hawk From coyotes, bears and coons who want To leave them without any hope of tomorrow With these farm animals who know their job To provide for their living, a heart who throbs With flavors so heavenly they charm the one Who knows that farm life brings sweetness Only attained by knowing intimately the ways Of beef, sheep and turkey… all the animals Who are so worthy of being called to the farm For bringing about delectableness only found In the places where people still know the joy Of farming – a trade that has gone from this Land long ago, leaving only the memory of Such graceful grain fed gratitude to flavor Our hearts with the miracles of farm living Inspiring my spirit to give freely to the farm My all – heart and soul – to listen to the Whisper who breathes dreams into my mind Flavoring my life in gracious hues of hope Silencing the worries that yearn to discourage While bringing out colors of crimson flames Twinkling magical ambitions through my Spirit – winking with laughter that comes From knowing God’s land is filled with blessings Who arrive on the ends of long lead ropes In cages filled with straw – with flavors fit To seduce the palate to savor these charms Of a life that is filled with gentle visions Wishes alive with pure, sweet delights found On the farm, where no harm ever comes To the one who knows the value of God’s gifts And thanks Him daily for His giving spirit! Betsy is a precious gift from heaven… and I am so thankful for the whispers of His breath across my life, filling me with insight and inspiration to survive all the loss that comes about through time – pain, grief and death combine to remind us why – we should always appreciate the treasures that bring a light from God’s healing hand touching our life.