Richard's Cows

My old friend Richard Elliott's cows graze peacefully in the same fields they did back on June 5, 1997, when I wrote an editorial for the local newspaper. The following is an exerpt from that editorial:

Yesterday on the way to work, like most mornings around 8:55, I passed Richard Elliott's cows. They graze in a lush, green pasture bordered by brambles between the steep hills at the far inner reaches of the South Slough.
From either direction, you come upon the cows rather suddenly, as the pasture leans down and stretches abreast of a sharp S curve along Canary Road.

Richard's cows are not your common, everyday, basic black and white "Bessie." They are the noble Scottish Highland breed with big, reddish-brown buffalo heads and long upturned horns. They are a formidable, yet gentle, beast with long lashes and forelocks. They have a shaggy coat and toss their head as they strut with a bold, purposeful swagger.

Richard is the Canary Road gentleman farmer in worn, muddy boots with a stubble beard and a ring in his ear. He prefers to sleep late in the morning and work well into the night. He is as true as the dirt up on Hilltop Acres.

There is nothing fancy about Richard. But he has a peculiar air of sophistication. He has rich insight into and strong opinions about politics and business, and is philosophical, yet humorous, about life.
Far from complex, he is simple and straightforward. Yet, like his Highland cattle, he exhibits a strong hint of something special -- a breed apart.

This morning, the field is empty. Last night, Richard was bringing out a fallen tree deep in a draw beneath the high hill near his home at Hilltop Acres. Part of the tree fell on him and took his life.
It will be lonely going home from work on hot nights in summer. Richard won't be haying in the field.
It will be a quiet stretch of road on the way to work without passing the Highland cows grazing in the morning mist.
I'll choose to think that Richard has taken them with him -- up to higher ground.