Cows, Conversation and Green Grass

Real Estate Agent with Cherimie Crane & Associates

It always mystified me that the cows would risk such agonizing pain just to stretch their necks through the barbed wire for the mere taste sometimes smell of a single green patch of grass all the while standing on the greenest grass in Mississippi.  Maybe it was because I didn’t fancy Play Station, I didn’t live close to other school aged children, I certainly wasn't the Barbie type or possibly it was the basic fascination with any creature that covets so deeply the very same thing in which they have. Hours upon hours I spent in the company of these crud bearing creatures. Naming them, singing to them- yes all cows love Stevie Nicks- or just observing their often odd behavior. Many life lessons were gleaned through my slightly one sided captive creature conversations. 


Straining with all their might those cows morphed into master yoginis. Twisting,turning and often ripping their coat clear from their skin. No matter how many times I thumped them on their head, had serious conversations about the err of their ways and even tried positive reinforcement; it was always in vain. At some point one unfortunate grass gazer would get stuck frequently at three in the morning. Besides my little sister reaching out to all ears in the universe anytime she caught me doing something I obviously was not supposed to do, these cows were the loudest thing within in miles. Screaming out for help to untwist the mess they clearly twisted.


Anyone who has befriended these hard headed animals knows all to well barbed wire to the neck isn’t enough of a deterrent, therefore it was common place to stumble out of bed and watch Daddy untangle the bewildered beast. Through the eyes of a sleepy child cow capers were most entertaining. Ah, the joy of living in the middle of nowhere.


As I got older and spent less time explaining the laws of logic to less than charismatic cows, I couldn’t help but notice obvious similarities. Cows aren’t the only creatures willing to stick themselves in the neck while reaching for something they already have. Females are astoundingly gifted in this aspect, entirely unable to see beauty in their very own mirror, endlessly reaching out for something new to enhance. Men do the very same things, just a bit more categorical. Men have absolutely no ability to see the grass on which they stand, only the grass slightly out of reach. I am fairly certain at any given time there is a man being thumped on the head because he just can’t help but risk injury over outstretching his bounds.


Very well could be nature, or the simple fact that most mammals aren’t nearly as smart as the Discovery Channel claims. Guilt isn’t a stranger in my pasture, either. If I was told I could only stay out until dark, perfectly impossible it proved to be.  If Daddy said to only go up ten limbs of my favorite tree, eleven was the only distance acceptable to my little lingering hands. The only swimming whole in which I desired to dip my dirty feet was the only one Daddy restricted. Of all the animals that surrounded my southern summers, it was the forbidden Rooster I just had to tame.  And just as often as those darn cows would squeal and squirm over the mess they made, so did I. Sometimes I had to untangle myself, and sometimes Daddy would come running. 


Recently I reached my neck out to unfamiliar pastures. A publisher painted a picture clearly of a dream that seemed tastier and worth a neck pinch or two. It required me to stop writing for the Island News. Hesitantly I began taking direction, advice and criticism, none of which is comfortable for me. Twisting and turning I tried desperately to crane my neck to reach a patch that just wasn't my own. I would have to change everything I think, everything I feel and the only voice I have would no longer be mine.


During a conference call regarding a subpar submission, she suggested that I refrain from using the word “Ya’ll”.  My big hair stood straight up on my head, my mouth flew open as it so often does and the bendable dream chaser told her preaching publisher exactly what she could do with all of her advice. After a three minute tirade of my recently withheld opinions, it seemed clear we were not a match made in heaven. 


I quickly untangled myself and managed to pull away from the piercing barbed wire with few scratches and only a tuft of missing hair. She proudly predicted I would be nothing more than a small town writer for a small town paper. My pasture is small, but it is green and plentiful. I will be just fine staying within my fence. After all, she didn’t like grits and she talked funny.

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Whether you are buying or selling Real Estate in Beaufort South Carolina, We know Beaufort. Our little coastal town has something for everyone.





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Karen Anne Stone
New Home Hunters of Fort Worth and Tarrant County - Fort Worth, TX
Fort Worth Real Estate

Cherimie:  Although the grass on the other side of the fence may appear greener, it is often much, much harder to chew.

Great post.  I wish you continued strength on your journey.  I know y'all can do this.  LOL.

I am betting that you didn't tell here about all y'all... did you?   :)

Oct 08, 2012 12:13 PM #1
Ralph Janisch ABR CRS Broker
Janisch & Co. - Conroe, TX
Selling Northwest Houston to good people like you!
Keep up the good work girl. Keep on stretching over and under those fences.
Oct 08, 2012 12:37 PM #2
Melinda (Mel) Peterson
Real Estate Cafe LLC - Bend, OR
The Blessed Realtor - ABR, CRS
Small town writer... I think not. Your cows have stretched to greener pastures all the way to Southern Oregon and beyond... and they'll continue to do so. Good for you Cherimie... For knowing who you are and for being determined to share your wonderful untamed self with the rest of us. Your love for life and simple things is what keeps me coming back for more of your heartfelt stories. Blessings!
Oct 08, 2012 02:07 PM #3
Mary Elizabeth Allen
Lake Monticello, VA

Didn't like grits!?!?!? Away with her! 

(Good for you for trying and also for realizing that the supposed reward wasn't worth the effort and the suffering!)

Oct 08, 2012 11:33 PM #4
Liz Wallace
Century 21 Sherlock Homes - Rockville Centre, NY
Broker C21 Sherlock Homes, Rockville Centre, LI, N

NYC born and raised and I love grits, there just hard to get here and oh boy do I talk funny, Bronx accent.  I think you write beautifully and y'all away.  By the way does she have any idea of some of the great classic Southern writers.

Oct 09, 2012 02:38 AM #5
Amada Slade
Island Realty of the Lowcountry - Beaufort, SC

Her foolish mistake, you carry on just the way you are. Your pasture continues to grow and get greener all the time.  And you deserve it!!

Oct 09, 2012 09:23 PM #6
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