I stopped by the bone yard this morning to say hello to my old friends who are returning to the earth. Every farm has one. I sometimes try to pick out who is who, but they are so scattered by the coyotes and foxes it's hard to tell. Chris, my beautiful llama, is pretty much picked clean now. I miss his striking figure on the hillside. We had become so friendly toward the end after years of him running away from me. I'm glad I had a chance to stroke his big banana ears and scratch all the itches places up and down his back for him. The farm is a good place to learn about the harsh realities of life and death. I'm getting tired of those lessons that have been thrust on me lately.
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