Last September I visited a group of locals to discuss Herd Immunity so today I went back to a different group to see how they felt about it. They didn’t seem to care or even entertain the idea but everyone was full of other advice.
They all felt that I should shoot wide and we argued about it for a few minutes while I shot at f/4. Finally I reluctantly switched to f/2.8. After viewing all the shots it was more about composition that aperture but this one is my favorite.
When I was finished she asked me about cow tipping which confused me but it turned out that she wanted a tip. So I thought for a second and asked her if cows have Buddha nature. She said Mu and we called it a day.
“All there is to thinking,” he said, “is seeing something noticeable which makes you see something you weren’t noticing which makes you see something that isn’t even visible.” Norman Maclean
I was reading an article on the CNBC website where Dr. Fauci said: “If the U.S. allowed the coronavirus to spread unchecked in an attempt to try to achieve so-called herd immunity, the death toll would be enormous.”
This didn’t sound particularly good to me and I wondered how other residents felt about this. I found a herd and asked ten locals for their opinions. The first eight thought it was a ridiculous idea.
The ninth had a terrible cough and the others kept their social distance. After a few minutes this one, possibly the leader of the pack stood and stared at me. Her neighbor kept hitting her in the face with her tail to help get the flies off.
After a brief staring contest (which I won) I asked: “Well what do you think?” She thought about the question for a second and was about to answer when she got hit in the face again. Then she said: “Just shoot me now.” So I did.
“If you have fear of some pain or suffering, you should examine whether there is anything you can do about it. If you can, there is no need to worry about it; if you cannot do anything, then there is also no need to worry.” Dalai Lama XIV
“Life is filled with abstractions, and the only way to make heads or tails of it is going through intuition.” David Lynch: Director, writer and producer of the greatest movie ever made-Eraserhead
When I was growing up my father was very fond of the phrase: Close the door, were you born in a barn? I felt this was rhetorical so I never answered, but I always wondered about the barn lifestyle.
It must be a great place to live I thought, because for one thing you apparently didn’t have to close the doors. But we lived in Levittown, Long Island in the 60’s and there were no barns anywhere to be found.
Later we moved further East to Setauket, and in the woods behind our house was a real barn, doors open and everything. The owner was said to be insane and shooting trespassers was not out of the question so I never had the nerve to see it up close.
Here in Lancaster, Pennsylvania there are almost as many barns as soccer moms who drive like Indy Car racers. And I still wonder what it would be like to live in one. I have a feeling it’s probably cold in the winter, hot in the summer, smelly and buggy.
Of course some people renovate old barns to perfection, complete with heat, air conditioning, windows and even doors that close and lock. But I think that most of the people who can afford that were born with a silver spoon in their mouth.
I was born with a plastic spoon in my mouth. The north side of my town faced east, and the east was facing south. The simple things I see are all complicated, I look pretty young, but I’m just back-dated, yeah.
Back in march I wrote a piece called Coming Home, about how cows never come home because they never leave, and I talked about the brave ones that occasionally make a break for it just to see what’s out there.
This morning I saw one make the escape, only the second cow escape I’ve witnessed in the eleven years I’ve lived in Lancaster County. I watched with an almost clinical interest to see if this was bravery or boredom.
Daisy (she was tagged) crossed the road and instead of tasting her freedom she tasted the grass on the other side. I walked over to take a photo, and chewing on a stem she gave me her best tough girl look. But she was scared; I could see it in her eyes.
Soon a very large Amish woman came out and shooed Daisy down the road to her own farm while the other cows cheered. I’m not sure if they were cheering for Daisy to come home or to make a break for it, but it started to rain and I lost interest.
T.S. Eliot once wrote: “Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.” In this case it was about a quarter mile until she was reunited with her friends. I can only wonder if they thought Daisy was a hero, a coward, or just another pretty face in the crowd.
