Since I am on the cusp of leaving the bucolic delights of the Sabine Farm for the activity and rapid pace of the City, this morning I remembered I needed to get an absentee ballot for the upcoming election. I had the pleasure of a decidedly American experience of driving over to house of the clerk of the little township, on a large nearby dairy farm. Surrounded by a great many dairy cows I voted on the kitchen table.
The last time I had to go to the clerk’s house to vote, for the last Presidential election of 2002, on my way over I saw a heifer calving, literally in partu. By the time I got back the little thing was up on its wobbly legs and blinking around.
Won’t see that in Rome.