I did not sleep deeply last night.
Not because of wind.
Not because of mud.
But because of perspective.
Florida lingers in the back of my mind.
Sunshine. Yes.
But also… airborne lawn furniture.
I stood in the pasture early this morning before the others woke.
There was frost again.
Light. Manageable. Almost respectful.
The sun rose slowly over the fence line, brushing the field in soft gold.
And for the first time in days…
I did not feel attacked by the weather.
I felt… grounded.
The visiting Highland’s words echoed:
“Choose your battles.”
Perhaps I have been fighting the wrong opponent.
Snow is dramatic.
Mud is inconvenient.
Goats are… goats.
But this land?
This is mine.
I know where the ground dips.
I know where the wind curves around the barn.
I know which fence post gives the best silhouette at sunset.
In Florida, I would be new.
Here?
I am established.
The Goat, Unfortunately
The goat approached this morning.
He said, “So you staying?”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Good. Hurricanes sound loud.”
We stood in silence.
Growth has occurred.
The Hair Situation
My dossan has reached full restoration.
Balanced. Intentional. Seasonally appropriate.
Not beach-ready.
But barn-royal.
I gave a slow head turn into the rising sun.
No snapping.
No frizz.
Just flow.
Official Statement:
“Strength is not found in escaping the storm. It is found in knowing your pasture.”
Final Thoughts from a Cow Who Has Considered the Tropics
Florida may have palm trees.
But I have legacy.
Winter may test me.
Spring may challenge me.
But this field has watched me rise.
And I am not done rising.
Until tomorrow.
Respect. The. Hair
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