Spring. The grass was tall, and greenness abounded. I went to the meadow and the cows were near. I yelled to them enthusiastically, “Hello cows!” They pretended to ignore me, but our eyes met.
I went not to the meadow during summer. Too many flies.
Now that it is fall, I return to the meadow. The grass is trampled and browning, and the cows are distant. "Cows!" I yell. "Hey, come over here cows!" But this time they truly ignore me, because now is not the time to reminisce. Now is the time to head to the barn.
See you in April.