Donkey

There's a old-fashioned farm more or less behind my house, Lonas Farm. They keep cows there. When I was in high school, some friends of my mother's boarded their mules at Lonas Farm, and whenever they (the friends, not the mules) were out of town, I'd go feed them (the mules, not the friends). That's where I learned the noise local farmers make to chivvy cows out of the way, a sort of hissing "ssst" sound.

Anyway, as I say Lonas Farm is behind my house beyond a narrow band of trees. I hear the cows all the time and don't really notice them. Cows sound angry, incidentally. Call it lowing if you like, but I prefer to call it shouting, because sometimes it sounds like the cows are inciting to riot out there. But this morning I woke from a sound sleep, alarmed, to the distinctive noise of a donkey greeting the sunrise.

I like donkeys. I'm happy to share my little corner of East Tennessee with a donkey. And there's absolutely no point to this post at all, but I'm 100% out of interesting--or even uninteresting--things to say. I got a lot of writing done today, at least, and tomorrow I have the day off.