We've enjoyed a much cooler day - and last night!!!  What a joy to have to use an extra blanket!  And did you see the moon?  Made me think of late August a little, and that's not good to think about, the summer's been way too short already.  Even though I suffer in extreme heat, I'm not ready to think snowflakes yet.  I had a low last night of 48.3 on the "warm" thermometer.  The "cold" thermometer on the back side of the house doesn't have a memory, it always reads at least two degrees cooler than any of the other thermometers.   I should put a new one out there just to check to see if it's really cooler where it is or if it's a faulty reading.

We took a short walk towards Brickett's Crossing Road just before supper.  The cows were all near the fence and were more vocal than sometimes.  They are looking good.  There were a couple of little ones nursing - and they all seemed to be enjoying the cooler air, just like we were.

It's nice how the cattle have cleaned up that field, especially around the old foundation.  It had become overrun with weeds and small brush, but the cattle keep it well cropped.  That is the old Ora Ennis farm foundation, and where the cattle are pastured once was a productive field.  I don't know how much land went with that little farm, but I expect perhaps the big field across the road where the Wright's have built was likely part of it.  Further over on that road was the Ashley Barnet place - the house on the east side of Deeper Ruts Road, and the barn on the west side, where Mrs. Douse's little house is now.  Then up the road just below where the Ackermann's house is was where Ed and Gertie Gamble lived.  They would have been Kelly Gamble's grandparents; his great grandparents, Jim and I think Rose, but I'm not sure of Mrs. Gamble's first name, lived where David and Val Covell's house is.  I remember Mrs. Gamble made wonderful doughnuts.  But then, so did my grandmother.  And later my mother.  I tried, but I never managed to make a decent doughnut.  

My Grandmother Bolton's doughnuts were what got us kids through all those afternoons rounding up the cows in those far-away pastures that stretched all the way to the Watt lot, which is now owned by Kate and Jay Chatot and the Svec family a little beyond.  There were two pastures, each about 90 acres with some open land and lots of deep woods and swamps, and the cows were alternated between them, a few weeks at a time, to keep the feed adequate.  Every day at 3 o'clock, we kids had to head to the pasture to round up the cows for milking.  The only break we got was if it was pouring rain so our uncles weren't in the hayfield; then usually it would be Uncle Bob who would go to get the cows and we'd have a day off.  

Some farmers have cows that are very obliging and will meander to the gate in late afternoon when it's close to milking time; other farmers just step up to the gateway and call out a loud "Come boss," and the beasts appear like magic, dutifully coming to their master's call.  But not those big dumb Holsteins my grandfather kept.  He could actually call and get them to come, but they ignored us completely, and probably headed away from our "Come bosses." Every day we'd find them in the remotest depths of the forest, or belly deep in mud in a swamp.  Had it not been for Grandma Bolton's doughnuts, we might never have made it back to the barn with them.

Today reminded me of those days.  Especially this cow in the picture, standing in the brook next to a mud hole.  Typical.  And then there was the smell - hot mud and cow manure.  There's nothing quite like it.  Farm kids never forget it.  I remember, too, the feeling of mud in my wet sneakers, washing my feet and shoes in a cold brook, and the blisters.  We always had blisters - on our heels, mostly.   After supper we would often walk down to the pond for a refreshing swim before bedtime.  I wonder how many miles a day we kids walked, or ran.  A lot, I think.  But what fun we had!