The dry brittle grass crunches beneath my boots as I walk toward the Bermuda-grass pasture to survey the grass there. Today is the day I’ll move the girls, the south pasture needs a rest. A worried glance is cast at the blazing Texas August sky, looking for hope of moisture but seeing none.
With a sigh, the gate is opened and the cows are moved to the new grazing area, dry but still nutritious. I’m sure this scene is being played over and over throughout the parched dry plains this summer. Praying for rain!
~TxH~
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