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“As different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.”
– Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

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This was the view on  my way to work one day last week. The fields were white with thick frost and a light mist rose along the meadow. The sun was just beginning to wake up and warm the earth below it. Few cars passed me as I leaned against the fence and admired the view. The cows, their hides thick and black, serenely grazing, were oblivious to the beauty around them.

The view from this same corner yesterday was completely different. The tree line was almost completely obscured by blowing snow and the sun hid its face completely. The fields were thickly blanketed in white, as were the backs of these cows, bending heads low to the ground. Traffic crawled by, too distracted by the blizzard and the lateness of the hour, to even notice. I didn’t dare stop. And the cows still kept their vigil, oblivious to the beauty around them.

“Cows are amongst the gentlest of breathing creatures and, in short, I am not ashamed to profess a deep love for these quiet creatures.” – Thomas de Quincey

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