I Meet the Tax Man

Phil has spent a lot of time the last week or so moving the cows. He's moving them twice a day right now, which doubles the general work. And last week he separated out the three yearlings and Fern (who we had hoped was due yesterday but shows no signs of imminent delivery today: perhaps we reintroduced the bull right as her heat was closing last December, so she will birth in three weeks); he runs these four in the paddock right ahead of the rest of the herd. That gives them first choice to the most nutritious and exciting foods. It also means that he has to walk more, fill more water, and drive more pokey cows. Fern is so stubborn, he had to actually put the leash on her and lead her to the next pen yesterday afternoon.

While Phil was dealing with cows, I suddenly noticed an unknown white car in the driveway. I headed outside to meet Butch the county tax assessor. We spent about an hour chatting about life in the country (he suggested we not try grapes, as there are vineyards springing up all over the county now), the neighbors (he mentioned that Dennis Bessette makes a good wine, and how he's never met anyone like Dennis, with such a clear vision, able to take a wreck of a house and transform it into something beautiful), how the assessors manage their workload (they try to get to every house in their area every six years, as well as all obvious new construction and all sales). He had been driving by and noticed the big blue building: "Whoa! That's new from the last time I came by," he thought.

I had forgotten that little aspect of a barn: increased taxes. I hope the reduced maintenance by having the tractor out of the rain is worth the increased price we'll have to pay.