The other day when I had the day off and was the only one home I decided to do something that I haven't done in quite some time - - - -mow the lawn. I have to say that in my youth (and some may disagree but remember that I'm right) I was the designated mower. I can remember long sunny afternoons as I pushed our mower around every inch of our lawn and grandpa's and doing it all out of the love of my heart. As the years went by and into my teens Mario and Marcos began to be old enough to help out now and again, and I have to say that after all my years of hard work I was glad for the change. Well, I reflected upon all of that as I went out to the mower which has since changed to the wonderful riding mower that helps make the process SO much easier and welcoming. I decided to start in the back with the huge field that we used to use as a baseball diamond and that leads to the entrance to the field. I have always considered myself a country girl - in the fact that I like the country, the wide open space - and definitely not in the way that means I come in contact with animals because since I can remember they scare the crap out of me. Horses, cows, dogs, cats, mice, goats - the list goes on. Now the field is home to Burt's cows and the lawn that I was mowing comes right up to the gate. The gate used to be strong and sturdy but since Uncle Jim has moved to Peterson and used it a lot more it has become flimsy from all of the use. As I began approaching the gate many of those great giant beast's we call cows, began to move very close to the fence and I was feeling a bit uncomfortable. Now put together my fear of animals and the flimsy fence and you have a recipe for disaster. All of a sudden I was seeing visions of the cows pushing through the fence and making my quiet mowing experience into my own private running of the bulls where they would trample me and no one could save me for the mere fact that no one would come looking for me "out in the field, mowing" and I would die alone with my last image of this great world being cow's feet(or is in hooves - who knows). Now, with all of that running through my head I did what any self respecting Agrizoophobe would do - - - I decided to only mow the half of the lawn away from the crowd of cows while constantly turning to make sure they weren't coming at me from behind. I can tell you it wasn't easy but, the fact that I am now writing this can put your heart at ease that I didn't die from a trampling of cows. . . . .