W.I.P. (black cow by fence)

Saturday, January 29, 2011

She didn’t bother with a shower, just got in the car and drove.  Yesterday’s rain was gone, and in its place was a cataclysmic green.  When she got to the long ribbon of road, she eased her foot off the pedal and looked for the black cows that had moved from one hill to another, most of them nosed into a herd, only a handful come down to the thick picket fence to watch for the cars burning through.  It was Sunday, and the traffic was light.  For as far as she could see there were cows and corn, the fence holding things in, the green of the trees on the ridge beyond. 


The WooWoo Guru said...

I love this, Beth. Is this your photography as well?

Sarah Allen said...

Wow, gorgeous! You have absolutely beautiful sentences. (Not to be presumptuously editorial or anything, but the double "corn" in the last sentence feels a bit repetitive to me. Don't get me wrong, just trying to help, and I ADORE the flow of this paragraph. I have this thing where when I'm at a book store I pick up random books and read the first paragraph. If this was the first paragraph of a book I picked up, I would buy it. I'm not just saying that either.)

Beth Kephart said...

Sarah Allen, you are right! Definitely too many corns there. I had just finished writing those sentences (they occur toward the end of the second third of a book I'm now writing) and decided to post them before they'd settled. But look!

And The WooWoo Guru — yes, my photography. Really, it was the picture of the cow that I wanted to post, and so I wrote word to go with it. In the odd way that I assemble fiction and life.

Hello, Miss Anna!

(thanks to you all)

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