I live at the western edge of downtown Vankleek Hill, which is basically a block away from the centre of Vankleek Hill. From my apartment it takes less than a five minute walk to find cows peacefully going about their luxurious pre-butchered lives.
Basically the boundaries of Vankleek Hill are defined by rusted cow fences [link: here]. In the summer I’ll also run into a few horses. If I walk east it takes a little longer, maybe twenty minutes, but the livestock are all there as well.
Because Vankleek Hill is an actual hill, and one of the highest spots on the Ontario side of the Quebec-Ontario border, the surrounding pastures and fields can make it seem as though we’re an island, a bump on the horizon.
Which will come in handy when the ice caps melt and the Ottawa River overruns its banks, because it’s all mountains on the Quebec side, and all flat lands on this side of the river, so guess who’ll be sitting on the bank, dipping our toes in the new sea while Hawkesbury is under 75-feet of water? That’s right baby, the New Age starts here.
Of course we’ll have to teach the cows how to swim.
I cropped about a third of the sky off the top because I wanted the cows to be the centre of the shot. I have lighter versions, but I like this one… there’s a ghost quality to it. I might be nuts, but I think that tree in the mid-ground looks like a giant rabbit.
This is the uncropped version:
Never thought I would say this, but I miss living within walking distance to a cow pasture…. Around here all I ever see are squirrels, bunnies, house sparrows, inbred dogs and rarely a cat. Heck, I get excited to see crows at this point!
Middle tree could be a bunny, but I’d say it reminds me more of a Las Vegas showgirl with the big ostrich feather hat and feather fans in each hand, of course, that may just be the part of my brain that likes to see scantily clad women everywhere acting up. *grin* The technical term is pareidolia.
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