Walking with the Tourists

It finally dawned on me a couple of weeks ago, now that it has stopped with the continual rain and fog (which I will undoubtedly jinx by having mentioned it here), that I could walk while Jupiter is in swim practice.  Outside, and not on the treadmill.  Not only do I not have to sit on the pool deck during practice, I am encouraged to leave the building.  What a difference a year makes.

So I've been walking down a country road in swim town.  It's a touristy town.

Twice in two weeks, I have seen cars stop in the middle of the road to photograph the herd of Dutch Belted cows.  I used to call them Oreo cows, but Jupiter and I recently read a Patricia MacLachlan book which featured a herd of Dutch belted cows, so now I know the proper name for the breed.  I amuse myself by trying to count the cows in the herd.  I consistently come up with a number between 19 and 21.

Last week a car stopped in the middle of the road to ask me how to get to a particular hotel with a name of Native American origin.  It took me a few tries to determine the destination, and while I could tell them the inn was in the village, I was completely unable to tell them if the road we were on would GO to the village, since my hour time limit only brings me past the cow herd to the hayfield and back.

Since tomorrow is Friday, it's likely that the photographers may be the direction seekers as well.