Our little granddaughter Willow loves having stories read to her. She lives on a farm with her mom and dad, three dogs, a lot of chickens, and nearly a dozen Scottish Highland cows. (You know the ones, cute, long-haired, red cows with long horns.)
All kinds of things happen on the farm, so Willow will be growing up with all kinds of stories. Some happy, some sad, and some special ones, that will likely be told over and over. One of the stories I'm hoping to make into a children's book is about a beautiful baby calf named Maeve who was born unexpectedly on a cold night last December.
Maive was lying there, all alone in the snow, when Willow's dad found her, just in time to bring her into the barn and get her warmed up. The mother cow Hazel was not a good mother and had rejected Maeve, just like she'd rejected Murphy, her previous calf, the year before.
Willow may remember that poor Maeve looked very hungry when she and her mom came into the barn to see the tiny calf. It would now be Willow's mom's job to step in and be a mom for Maive too, as she began a long commitment of bottle feeding the young calf every four hours.
The whole of the story is well worth telling, and illustrating. It is a story with a silver maple lining (and yes, it has some dry stone walls in it, too) .
I'l tell you more tomorrow maybe, but right now it's time for you to get some sleep.
Good night.
