With the birds singing, the trees budding, and "the green grass growing all
around," as we used to sing in school, who would not love the country and prefer
farm life to any other? We are glad that so much time can be spent out-of-doors
while going about the regular affairs of the day, thus combining pleasure with
work and adding good health for full measure.
I have a favorite way of doing this, for I have never lost my childhood delight
in going after the cows. I still slip away from other things for the sake of the
walk through the pastures, down along the creek, and over the hill to the
farthest corner where the cows are usually found, as you can all bear witness.
Bringing home the cows is the childhood memory that often recurs to me.
I think it is because the mind of a child is peculiarly attuned to the beauties of
nature, and the voices of the wildwood, and the impression they made was deep.
*"To him who, in the love of nature, holds community with her visible forms,
she speaks in various language" you know. And I am sure old Mother Nature
talked to me in all the languages she knew when, as a child, I loitered along
the cow paths, forgetful of the milking time and stern parents waiting, while
I gathered wildflowers, waded in the creek, watched the squirrels hastening
to their homes in the treetops, and listened to the sleepy twitterings of birds.
Wild strawberries grew in grassy nooks in springtime. The wild plum thickets
along the creek yielded their fruit about the time of the first frost in the fall.
And all the time between, there were ever varied, never failing delights
along the cow paths of the old pasture. Many a time, instead of me
finding the cows, they, on their journey home unurged, found me
and took me home with them.
The voices of nature do not speak so plainly to us as we grow older,
but I think it is because, in our busy lives, we neglect her until we grow
out of sympathy. Our ears and eyes grow dull, and beauties are lost
to us that we should still enjoy.
Life was not intended to be simply a round of work, no matter how
interesting and important that work may be. A moment's pause to watch
the glory of a sunrise or a sunset is soul satisfying, while a bird's song
will set the steps of music all day long.
"Going After The Cows"
April 1923
Laura Ingalls Wilder
(1867-1957)
Prolific American writer and author
of the "Little House" series of books.
Essay taken from the book,
Little House In The Ozarks
A Laura Ingalls Wilder Sampler
The Rediscovered Writings
Laura Ingalls Wilder
Edited by Stephen W. Hines
(1991)
Guideposts Edition
*Quote from "Thanatopsis"
By William Cullen Bryant
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