Today was a pretty perfect June day. And I do mean pretty. I was over on the west side of town just before lunch time and as I traveled along the six miles or so from one side of town to the other, I caught the scent of apple blossoms and lilacs, warm earth and in a couple of places, new mown hay. Nothing quite like this time of the year.

I was making book deliveries - some of the Cabot Oral History books to the creamery gift shop ready for their big celebration next weekend, and to other people, some of the Historical Society books we published this year. I went to the Tebbetts farm off Ducharme Road. That's pretty country up there. I mentioned to Mary Tebbetts (she's Anson's mom) how lucky we are to live where we do. Mary's view is directly across the valley, looking east at the Cabot Plain area. She can also see the Bothfeld farm and I was really surprised when she told me she can see our Joe's Pond fireworks from her house.

As I was leaving, Mary exclaimed, "Oh, there's Tex!" and pointed towards the barn. "Tex" is a lovely, docile Texas Longhorn cow someone saved from the slaughter house and brought to Mary's farm for safe keeping. I took a couple of pictures and then saw a small nose poking through the slats of the gate where the big cow stood. It seems "Tex" had a liaison with a Jersey bull - so now there's a little guy - you can barely see him in the picture. He was very shy, and his mom seemed pretty protective, so I didn't argue. It crossed my mind, though that the little Jersey bull must have been pretty determined. "Tex" is not only a big animal, but I would think those horns would have made him think twice before getting fresh with her! Apparently his approach worked, and now mom and son are enjoying life at the Tebbetts farm. I'm glad "Tex" escaped become steaks and instead is a proud mother on one of the prettiest farms around, and getting good care.

We mowed the lawn today. Fred does most of it with the riding mower - I like to do around my flower beds and vegetable gardens with the walk-behind mower. It's good exercise, and it cuts the grass a little shorter than Fred's machine. Neither one of us likes to trim.

While we work, Woody slumbers. He has at least six beds of his own scattered throughout the house, so where does he want to sleep? On our bed, of course. He's gone outside now, and is sitting patiently in the garage waiting for Fred to put the mower away. His dish probably has an empty spot, and that always worries him. He likes to have plenty of food on hand all the time, even if he isn't going to eat right away. Quite often he'll let Fred know his food is low, Fred will fill his dish, and then Woody will ask to go out without eating a bite. We think it's just so he'll know he's got it there when he comes in hungry - just in case we're not around, I suppose. Smart, pampered beast.