[Cardinal.]

username: ChilliGhost
name: Oreo
gender: female

- Don't really have much time for this one and my tablet broke on me great -

[Bayfire213]

Username:

klovesugar2

Likes
Flowers
Other Cows
Warm Weather
Sunshine
Trees
Shade

Dislikes
Bullies
Muggy Weather
Flies

Name:

Cymosa
From 'Rosa Cymosa';
The elderflower rose.
Blooms in late May
and through June.

Nickname:

May

Gender:

Female

Story:

"Mama? Why do all the other cows call me May?" The young calf peered up at her mother, curious as to the reason. She was born in June, not May, and late June at that. Wised jade eyes peered down at the calf, gentle and warm and ever so loving, but also tinged with fond mirth. Slowly they made their way across the field, towards the barn where the farmer awaited them and the rest of the herd. There was supposed to be a wet snow later tonight, and the calves especially wouldn't fare well in such weather. The youngest among them wasn't three months old, born in September. The dying grass bowed under their hooves, as the elderly cow and her own calf brought up the rear. It had always been her duty to watch for any stragglers, help her fellow cows if they needed it, and that hadn't changed with age. Even with her own calf to look after, her little Mayflower was more mature and sound of hoof than the others her age, and wouldn't wander off or pitch a fit that would leave them in the cold any longer than necessary.

In her old age, the elderly cow could help but thank her lucky stars for such a mild-mannered daughter.

"Well, my little Mayflower, you were supposed to be born in May, and since I'd yet to share the name I'd chosen for you, they chose their own name to call you by." It was a simple story, not much to it, and Cymosa seemed somewhat disappointed. A soft "Oh," escaped the young calf, and they walked in silence once more. The sky was streaked with oranges and ambers, and deep dusky violet, even as dark grey storm clouds rolled in to divide the picturesque scene. Cows and calves sounded their protests as youngsters still wished to play, and elders scolded others for the unwelcome jostling. The throng of cattle ahead of them slowly pushed and shoved its way into the barn, as the two made their way ever closer. Discreetly, the wise old cow watched her daughter, having caught the hints of disappointment in her tone. She wasn't a storyteller, but for her precious little Mayflower...

"It is rather odd though, when I think about it." She verbally pondered, not even bothering to hide the soft smile which stole across her muzzle when the calf's attention refocused on her. "The rose which you were named for first begins to bloom in May, the month when the vet predicted you'd be born. While its latest buds bloom in June, which as you well know, is when you were actually born. I'm not all that surprised though. It suits you." Forgetting at times that her daughter was still just a calf, the cow smiled a little brighter at the ponderous expression on the youth's face. What might've been wise words to anyone who knew the old cow and her way of thinking, much of that wisdom was lost on her daughter at the time. The calf was still trying to puzzle out some of the unfamiliar words her mother had used when they entered the barn after everyone else, still thinking about what her mother meant as they settled in for the night.

A flower does not think of competing
with the flower next to it. It just blooms.

The flower that blooms last, is the rarest,
and most beautiful of them all.

[Kaluga]

Ending in two hours :)

[Kaluga]

Username:

klovesugar2

Likes
Flowers
Other Cows
Warm Weather
Sunshine
Trees
Shade

Dislikes
Bullies
Muggy Weather
Flies

Name:

Cymosa
From 'Rosa Cymosa';
The elderflower rose.
Blooms in late May
and through June.

Nickname:

May

Gender:

Female

Story:

"Mama? Why do all the other cows call me May?" The young calf peered up at her mother, curious as to the reason. She was born in June, not May, and late June at that. Wised jade eyes peered down at the calf, gentle and warm and ever so loving, but also tinged with fond mirth. Slowly they made their way across the field, towards the barn where the farmer awaited them and the rest of the herd. There was supposed to be a wet snow later tonight, and the calves especially wouldn't fare well in such weather. The youngest among them wasn't three months old, born in September. The dying grass bowed under their hooves, as the elderly cow and her own calf brought up the rear. It had always been her duty to watch for any stragglers, help her fellow cows if they needed it, and that hadn't changed with age. Even with her own calf to look after, her little Mayflower was more mature and sound of hoof than the others her age, and wouldn't wander off or pitch a fit that would leave them in the cold any longer than necessary.

In her old age, the elderly cow could help but thank her lucky stars for such a mild-mannered daughter.

"Well, my little Mayflower, you were supposed to be born in May, and since I'd yet to share the name I'd chosen for you, they chose their own name to call you by." It was a simple story, not much to it, and Cymosa seemed somewhat disappointed. A soft "Oh," escaped the young calf, and they walked in silence once more. The sky was streaked with oranges and ambers, and deep dusky violet, even as dark grey storm clouds rolled in to divide the picturesque scene. Cows and calves sounded their protests as youngsters still wished to play, and elders scolded others for the unwelcome jostling. The throng of cattle ahead of them slowly pushed and shoved its way into the barn, as the two made their way ever closer. Discreetly, the wise old cow watched her daughter, having caught the hints of disappointment in her tone. She wasn't a storyteller, but for her precious little Mayflower...

"It is rather odd though, when I think about it." She verbally pondered, not even bothering to hide the soft smile which stole across her muzzle when the calf's attention refocused on her. "The rose which you were named for first begins to bloom in May, the month when the vet predicted you'd be born. While its latest buds bloom in June, which as you well know, is when you were actually born. I'm not all that surprised though. It suits you." Forgetting at times that her daughter was still just a calf, the cow smiled a little brighter at the ponderous expression on the youth's face. What might've been wise words to anyone who knew the old cow and her way of thinking, much of that wisdom was lost on her daughter at the time. The calf was still trying to puzzle out some of the unfamiliar words her mother had used when they entered the barn after everyone else, still thinking about what her mother meant as they settled in for the night.

A flower does not think of competing
with the flower next to it. It just blooms.

The flower that blooms last, is the rarest,
and most beautiful of them all.

Congratulations! There were several beautiful forms but the effort in this one stood out to me :)

[Bayfire213]

*squeaks* Awesome~! Thank you very much, Kaluga~ She's my very first Buttermilk cow, and I couldn't be any more thrilled~! She's absolutely lovely~