Portrait of a Cow

 

I like cows.  That may seem like an odd, and rather definitive statement, but it is true.  I like cows.  Growing up in Ohio farm country you have to take the motto of "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!" to heart.  The seasonal odor of manure wafting through the air reminds me of home.  One of my favorite places in the country is Virginia because their emerald green rolling hills are enhanced by the cows that dot the picturesque landscape. 

Well, if you have never taken time to appreciate the bovine before it hits your dinner plate, or taken a long loving glance at the source of the refreshing beverage that keeps Kellogg's in business...than this blog post is for you!

Around the corner from my house is a scruffy patch of pasture that mostly is not grazed by the neighbors cattle.  But this week, the fuzzy beasts were turned loose to munch away the thistle, weeds, and goldenrod that have taken over the field.

I was able to stop along the narrow, dead end, country road where these guys were grazing. 

They didn't seem to mind my presence too much....but occasionally they would turn and eyeball me to see what I was up to.  The weeds were tall and interfered with capturing that perfect portrait, but I thought some of these were interesting none the less.  They are rather beautiful creatures when we take the time to notice them.  So enjoy one of my favorite domestic critters....the friendly neighborhood cow!

Wooly hide

Fuzzy ears covered in burrs and briars

By C.H. Spurgeon:

"All your works praise you, O God"

The stars still sing their Maker's praise; no sin has stopped their voice, no discord has made a jarring note among the harmonies of the spheres.

The earth itself still praises its Maker, the exhalations, as they arise with morn, are still a pure offering, acceptable to their Maker.

The lowing of the cattle, the singing of the birds, the leaping of the fishes, and the delights of animal creation, are still acceptable as votive offerings to the Most High.

Close up

The mountains still bring righteousness; on their hoary summits God's holy feet might tread, for they are yet pure and spotless.

Still do the green valleys, laughing with their verdure

send up their shouts to the Most High.

Munching thistle

The praise of God is sung by every wind it is howled forth in dread majesty by the voice of the tempest, the winds resound it, and the waves, with their thousand hands, clap, keeping chorus in the great march of God.

The whole earth is still a great orchestra for God's praise, and his creatures still take up various parts in the eternal song, which, ever swelling and ever increasing, shall by-and-by mount to its climax in the consummation of all things.

By Thomas Brooks:

Christians must be like the clean beasts, which parted the hoof and chewed the cud; they must by heavenly meditation chew truths, or else they will never taste the sweetness that is in divine truths.

Mary "pondered the sayings of the shepherds in her heart," Luke 2:19. Not those who eat most—but those who digest most, are the most healthful. Not those who get most—but those who keep most, are richest. So not those who hear most, or read most—but those who meditate most, are most edified and enriched.

Those squeeshy wrinkles remind me of my hound dogs!

 

By John Newton:

Contemplate his goodness in a rural situation. Light colors, and prospects, are suited to please the eye. The singing of birds, the lowing of the cattle, the bleating of the sheep, and in general, the inarticulate tones of all the animal tribes, are soothing and grateful to the ear. During a great part of the year, the scent of blossoms and flowers perfumes the air, and regales the sense of smelling.