"Cows?" I said, as I hunted for raspberry jam hiding in the fridge. That's when she grabbed my arm and hauled me to the window. By that time, the escapees were making their second romp around our house, their hooves leaving deep impressions in our newly mowed lawn. Maggie was ten at the time, basking in the freedom of summer vacation. It was a searing day in mid-July, both of us looking forward to a dip in Manhan Creek, fixing sandwiches to bring along, when that batch of wayward bovine scrambled past the window.

"Oh my gosh," I said, as we watched those spirited heifers, with freedom nipping at their heals, take off down the street. Without delay, I picked up the phone and called Mike, just down the road at Wolf Hill Farm, to tell him about their fugitive cows.

Neighbors spoke of seeing stray cattle roaming the streets and the cornfield adjacent to the farm for days afterwards. The story begged to be written well before the last renegade cow was herded in. After carefully crafting fifteen revisions of the saga, it was ready to send out to publishers.

 

 

 

 

        Yes, that's me in my bi-focals!!
 

  

 

 

Matthew Reading to Markie

 

 

 

My nephew, Matthew Tomlet, a gifted artist and fixer for the BBC, lives in Panama with his family.  Naturally, I gave my great-nephew, Markie, a copy of my book.  Here they are in Matt's office checking out Ard Hoyt's wonderful illustrations.  Markie speaks mostly Spanish, so I can hear him saying vaca, vaca, vaca, as he points to the pictures of the cows.

 

 

 

Maggie and Mom

 

 

 

Maggie and I worked on a journal project when she was in high school that we turned into a memoir.  A 'she said, she said' kind of thing.  We loaded with all the angst that time of life entails. But sorry, you'll have to wait a bit longer to read what we said!