#pastur

[the-crow-in-the-blooming-tree]

[henk-heijmans]

Sheep and lambs graze in a pasture near Mont-Saint-Michel, during a countrywide lockdown, northwestern France, 2020 - by Sameer Al-Doumy (1998), Syrian

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Rogier van der Weyden or Roger de la Pasture (Netherlandish, c.1399-1464) Triptych: The Crucifixion, St. Mary Magdalene, detail, ca.1443-45 Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien

[hedgehog-moss]

I had a friend over this week and even though the weather wasn't ideal, we decided we were going to go for a long walk in the surrounding woods with all three llamas. Since Pampelune is the uncontested chief, you just need to halter her and her herd follows wherever she goes. Sometimes we emerged from the woods into a pasture and Pampérigouste started galloping like mad (followed by her daughter & her abandonment issues), but then Pampy would object with some firm hums and the other two returned, chastened.

We'd brought a head of cabbage and we gave her a few leaves every time she successfully used her matriarch authority to re-gather our little group around her, even though she'd do it for free, because it's so nice to be able to go on walks with only one haltered llama and watch the younger ones frolic and explore the world as we go. Pampy seemed happy to walk with us at a steadier pace and to trade freedom for cabbage.

We'd initially planned to stay on my side of the torrent, but after meandering downhill for a long time we unexpectedly found an old bridge I didn't know existed, and it looked very inviting, so we crossed. (Ominous chords.) Then we enthusiastically went up hoping we'd see my house from the opposite hill—and we did, here it is :)

And then we went back into the woods, and got lost. Of course. I really think my friend carries some sort of curse because I don't usually get lost in nature but the last time we went on a great hike we also found ourselves completely disoriented in a featureless snowy plain, trying to glimpse the sun behind clouds and debating whether finding the North would help us in any way.

This time we were quicker to admit we were lost, and I said we could either go uphill, and we'd find the road eventually and the nearest milestone would tell us where we are (or we'd reach a farm on the plateau), or go downhill, and we'd find the stream eventually and cross it and then we'd be in a part of the woods I'd recognise. Probably.

Drawback of going uphill: it's technically the wrong direction, so the way home will be that much longer (and night falls at 5pm)

Drawback of going downhill: we'll have to cross the water at some point. Without a bridge. It would take a miracle to find that bridge again, supposing it was a real bridge and not a fae illusion to lead us astray.

After debating for a bit we decided to go downhill, because we were hopeful that we'd find a shallow spot to cross the stream, and also we feared that at nightfall the llamas might just lie down and decide to spend the night right here, in the woods. It's hard to make a llama get up again once she's decided that enough things happened for today.

The question of whether the llamas would accept to cross a mountain stream with us was left undebated—though we did regret having spent our cabbage too lavishly and too soon.

But we followed a rivulet downhill and Pampe crossed it repeatedly, with merry and graceful mountain goat jumps, which made us feel comforted in our decision.

Then we got to a point where the water became visible, and very noisy, and Pampelune started to feel suspicious. She made worried hums and walked more reluctantly and (having squandered our cabbage) we had to cajole her into compliance.

I love that my friend captured the moment when I crouched down and started straight-up lying to my llama.

Poldine was the last one to realise something was afoot, because she is young and trusting.

Once she did, she also became a bit reluctant (she wanted to go uphill again), and more than once my friend had to open her cloak-like coat in order to look like a bat and persuade Poldine that nothing good was happening in that direction.

We found a spot where the water was pretty shallow and decided to cross. The air temperature was maybe 1°c and the water felt like it was minus twelve so my friend wasn't exactly happy about the series of decisions that had led us to this point. I pointed out that last time in that snowy plain there was this piercing relentless evil wind howling in our ears and making unsettling voice-like sounds when it blew through holes in fences (to help her relativise) and she was like, when did this day go from singing walking songs and watching Pampe gambol in pastures to "at least this time we aren't being driven mad by ghostly wind."

I told her that things that go wrong become the most vivid and fun memories in the long term and we debated this postulate for a bit and I felt like I had successfully distracted her from our plight, until she put her foot in the water and said she wished she were in the metro in Paris right now. In Châtelet even. I said "but in two days you'll be in the Paris metro wishing you were here trying to cross a cold mountain stream with three appalled llamas!" and she said yes. Still, the situation is dire when a Parisian says she would rather be in Châtelet.

Pampe actually followed us quite quickly! I'm pointing this out because I'm always talking about how contrary Pampérigouste is, but she was so great about crossing the stream, even humming to her daughter as if to encourage her. I suppose she was telling Poldine that when they make their final escape and become wild llamas they'll probably have to cross mountain streams now and then.

Poldine panicked a bit once everyone was on the other side of the water except her, and although I'd already wrung out my socks I was psychologically preparing myself to cross the ice-cold water again and go get her—but after walking up and down the other bank desperately looking for an invisible bridge, she resentfully crossed.

Then we went uphill again and eventually found our way to my neighbour's pasture! I immediately recognised the old tree in the middle and I was very happy to see it. My friend was holding Pampy and I had climbed ahead to act as a scout, and I cried out to share my discovery feeling like Vasco de Gama. It was snowing just a tiny bit, and getting darker, and I think everyone (including Pirlouit, languishing alone in his pasture) had started to privately wonder if we were going to spend the night in the woods.

One interesting activity we did when we went home was testing the various objects that live on or near my fireplace to see which ones are heavy and stable enough to hang very wet socks. We tried the wistful wooden shepherd, the porcelain fox, the music box shaped like a pile of books, the vase, and found that the only reliable spots in my living-room to dry your socks are under Sherlock Holmes and under Marie-Antoinette so we agreed on a fair sock-drying rotation. The living-room smelled of wet wool (or wet llama) all evening, but we had a glass of champagne to celebrate the fact that we weren't currently trying to fight hypothermia by curling up between two llamas in some frosty meadow, and we felt pleased with our adventure, all things considered.

We realised a bit late that we had been in such a hurry to go home and warm up we'd neglected to reward our hiking companions, so we very bravely put on new socks and went out in the night to look for the llamas with our phone lights and distribute some muesli. Pirlouit was included in the distribution because he definitely would have crossed the stream with us had he been invited (and told his hay was on the other side.) Also we got a kiss from Poldine so I think she replayed the day's events in her head and came to the conclusion that her mother was, somehow, as always, to blame for all this.

[hoofpeet]

:]

[geopsych]

Early autumn pasture.

[melonthesprigatito]

I think the biggest missed opportunity in Legends Arceus is that you don't get access to your clothes wardrobe during the exile plotline part of the game so I couldn't get my cool narrative moment of spitefully/dramatically ripping off my Survey Corps uniform and dressing like an outlaw.

[colinarcartperson]

Yeehawgust day 2 “greener pastures”

[huariqueje]

Path at Crowe' s Pasture - David Grose

American , 1922 - 2016

Silkscreen , 20 x 26 in. Ed.140/200

[amandaherzman]

fungi of the forest 🍄✨

[leavinghere]

7/6/24

[bigpappahope]

Misty cow pasture on a Florida morning

[hedgehog-moss]

Just wanted to say I have been internet-less for a while now, due to damage from a thunderstorm, and it's not clear when the problem will be fixed! Hopefully by Monday but that's also what they said last week. At first I was able to find some 3G here by sitting perilously on the very edge of that one specific window on the 1st floor of the barn >

—but this no longer works for some reason. That's too bad because while I waited 5min for websites to load like it's 2001 I could watch the llamas bounce about and the chickens scour the pasture for insects, it was like having a real life Windows screensaver. But this week was very windy so I assume the elusive airborne internet in this corner of my barn has floated away elsewhere.

My next solution was climbing up to the plateau through the woods with my laptop under my arm to go sit in a pasture that's famous (to me and 1 neighbour) for having inexplicably good cell reception. It's funny because I sat nowhere near the road but Pandolf kept patrolling all over to check for enemies while I checked for emails so people driving by kept stopping their car and crossing the pasture to come say hi like, "I recognised your dog from afar!" I've had better luck keeping in touch with people I know via this great new social network called DogRun than via modern means of communication.

The guy who owns the pasture also came to say hi and when I told him what I was doing here, he looked at his phone and went like, wow, there /is/ great reception here, better than at my farm, I could come check my email here too. So this cow pasture is poised to become a trendy new coworking space.

But then I had to make a video call and that exceeded the capacities of even the great 3G Pasture, so I had to drive several km to sit under a tree a few hundred metres away from a village so I can leech their amazing urban 4G.

This is probably how a mediaeval peasant would make a Zoom call, once a week riding their donkey across the countryside to go sit in a field near the ramparts of the nearest fortified village and enjoy their feudal lord-sponsored high-speed connection.

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

for every “cows are SO BAD for the environment” I add another pound of beef and gallon of milk to my grocery cart

[geopsych]

Bucolic scene from 4 years ago.

[craigularory-joe]

Day 7