Behind Stanford in the area known as The Dish, every winter, somebody brings in cows to graze. I have read in the local paper that the last people to graze their cows said It is impossible to make money
grazing. and quit – or, atleast threatened to quit. But, the cows are back. Usually, there are only trees, parallel cow trails along the steep hills and impossibly green grass.
But once again, there are seemingly very happy cows.
Any animal grazing, but particularly cows and horses, gives me a deep sense of peace and contentment.
Me too. Maybe that’s why they call it pastoral.