All-day tryst in the middle
of milling cattle upon the green,
it could be spring in December—
good sign after two dry years of hay,
something normal like bucks in rut.
Mounting and breeding surround us,
black bulls weave through the bunch
with urgent optimism and aplomb.
No forecast fog, rain, or snow.
Monday gather. Tuesday picnic
upon the green with the neighbors
bringing horses to brand some calves.
drycrikjournal 
The sight of the color green is really something. Hope the drought is on its way out.
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I trust that it is, Evelyne, slowly. I suspect we will beg for rain into January and hope for a good wet spring. Almost too luxurious, the green is hard on the eyes right now. The weathermen are still holding for rain Thursday and Friday, but dust on the road today.
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John, I like your idea of a picnic upon the green. Not quite as leisurely as our friends in Great Britain, but I know you will enjoy the green and the company.
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Of course, Meg, it was not my idea, but Robbin’s. I just wrote it down. I steal a lot her lines. But the freshly germinated grass is a like a lawn most places on the Paregien Ranch, freshly mowed.
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