Ian didn’t go to work today to be home with the cows. He is a lawyer in his own private practice and he finished a large criminal jury trial the day before we bought the cows. He was under pressure the whole time and worked day and night to get his client freed from all accusations. This was quite a victory for Ian as a criminal lawyer; however, the only thing it won Ian was many enemies who felt the man should not go free. Really, Ian did not feel he should be free, but Ian does his job well. He has had pensive moments while sitting and I know he has apprehensions about what this freed man will do while in society.

I could see Ian in the front yard when my walk back from work got within sight of our house. I saw the farmer who sold us the cows standing in the street discussing the dealings of oxen as he was getting them out of the trailer. I started running home. The part of the purchase, the best part, where Ian writes out the check, had already happened. We owned the oxen, two of them, and a large pile of eight foot, four-by-fours which arrived later that evening.

Ian bought the wood to build a very large wagon with wheels. It would have a seat in front and an open truck-bed in the back. It resembled a rambling, wide open, plain’s wagon of the old days. I stared, speechless, at his drawing he had engineered on his own, an ox cart, Ian called it. It would be for carrying the milk to some of the neighbors who had inquired about purchasing the fresh milk. “Why not just purchase a truck?” I said.

We live in a rural area a mile down a dirt road. Once you get to the paved road we are just ten minutes away from a city called Ahimsa. It is a quiet and colorful city near Gibraltar, Spain. We are most known for our monastery, very near our house, which has been there for decades. The monks were the original founders of Ahimsa. The city grew up around them as it became popular for its open fruit and vegetable market that the monk’s provide. Their monastery has acres of gardens, legumes, gourds, pumpkins and many other wonderful things they have grown over the seasons. The monastery has around forty Buddhist monks in residence, called the Govinda Monastery.

I remember as a girl growing up in Gibraltar seeing the monastery. The tall old fashioned plaster walls and beautiful overgrown vegetation, the golden statue of Buddha sitting above the majestic ashram. Buddha’s hands in a mudra, the left signing peace, the right signing compassion while he sits in meditation, eyes closed, high above the mysterious walls. I knew I had wandered far from home when I’d come across this gallant sight and peaceful winds blowing around its corners.

My suspicion is that Ian speaks to one of the monks when he is at the municipal pool. I wonder at times if he has an influence over Ian. Ian has always admired the dedication and solemn lives they lead. Ian has put up his milk cart next to their vegetable stand. He has taken to spending most of the day at their tables then bike riding or swimming in the evening. Ian has already told me that he will not be returning to his law practice, preferring to deliver the milk or sell it at the stand.