Bovines in Brume

Once upon a mid-morning, while attempting to visit an adorable vintage store whose hours seemed to be the direct opposite of my own, I drove by these magnificent creatures, shrouded in a cloud of brume. 

{Brume: -n. poetic heavy fog or mist}

Compelled by the contrast of their burly strength and the wispy fog, I parked my vehicle in a field (it's desired place of rest), and commenced with the "Hi Babies!" and picture taking. 

Clearly.  They were as excited as I, with this unexpected augmentation to their day.

After acquiring an ample amount of photos, I resumed my journey to the vintage store.  Glory be, they were open!

I perused and chatted, then went on my way.

As I passed the bovines again, my eye caught the tiniest, sweetest face in the herd.  Where had he come from?!

*sighs*

Needing to make my long trek north, I continued on. 


But the face beckoned me back and with a swift u-turn, I found myself field-parked, once again.

Soon enough, he was invisible again.  Playing in the brume, I suspect.