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Prescient, I’m not.

You see, I thought our Dear Leader and his minions had exhausted, reached their limit, of “You can’t make this stuff up” machinations.

Well, I thought wrong. To what do I refer, you ask? I’ll tell you. The Easter Egg Rolling on the lawn of the White House. That really sweet event where the little ones scurry about in search of the colorful representations of eggs, with the current occupants of the White House looking on benevolently.

But wait. There’s more to the story. This year, for the first time ever, corporate sponsorships have been sold. Corporate sponsorships? Oh, yes.

We’re talking real “bidness” here, folks. As in fifty to a hundred-plus thousand dollars per sponsorship. And where does this money go? One can only guess.

Changing topics.

The pastures, fields, really, on each side of our house, makes me feel a bit more at peace when I pause to really look at them.

It also makes us both a little sad. For a good number of years our two beautiful bovines grazed and graced the landscape, and took their meals in their nice cow condominium.

Then we had to say goodbye to Gladys, our mother cow. Her daughter, Babe, missed her, as did we.

Five years later Babe went to join her mother.

The fields look so empty now. Sometimes I feel like I can almost see our girls.

We loved them.

Note – In last week’s column, “I really did go there,” I left out Quebec City, Canada.