The cow came to the farm along with her bull calf a few weeks ago. She was restless when I painted her portrait, swinging her big head back and forth. I tried to pick two angles that she kept returning to.
It was feeding time. She was hungry. Bits of hay and drool dropped onto my Moleskine watercolor sketchbook.
Every once in a while, when she heard Lenny’s voice outside, she let out a powerful moo that resonated through the whole barn. I could see into the ridged, tan tunnel of her mouth, and feel the hot, moist blast of breath.
It was feeding time. She was hungry. Bits of hay and drool dropped onto my Moleskine watercolor sketchbook. 
Every once in a while, when she heard Lenny’s voice outside, she let out a powerful moo that resonated through the whole barn. I could see into the ridged, tan tunnel of her mouth, and feel the hot, moist blast of breath.
