As rivulets of rain shed cold tears on the garden window in my kitchen, I noticed that the strong splattering was causing an earthquake-like effect that made the glass shelf begin to move ever so slightly.

The bovine collection that pastures on the glass shelf of that window came alive and started to do-si-do to the vibrations.

Lark kitty jumped up onto the counter, where she is not allowed, to join me in watching the show. I didn’t have the heart to shoo her down. It might be the only time she would see cows dance.

I was intrigued by what happens when you are unencumbered by danger. Rather than cowering in fear, like I would during an earthquake, these guys were slipping and sliding to music only they heard.

An unexpected opportunity made their earth move and they turned it into a dance. No duck for cover. No screaming. Just going with the flow.

One of the three-legged cows, a pink cutie who was a creamer in another life, tumbled off the shelf ledge toward the sink. I grabbed her just in time and placed her back in the pasture.

If I hadn’t been there watching she would likely have lost another leg or worse. But she fell lithely, with no expectations. Fearless, she morphed into a ballerina.

Barely a day ago, slices of sun had cut through the glass of that same window so brightly that I had to put my sunglasses on to navigate the kitchen. Unperturbed, the cows sunbathed contentedly.

They didn’t seek shade from the sun just as they didn’t seek shelter from the rain the day before. They sought opportunity. What do you do with unexpected shaking? You move with it. How else could a cow have learned how to dance?

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Getting into the rhythm of my thoughts, I did a slow two-step over to the stove to make tea. “What is the lesson here?” I wondered aloud to the tea leaves.

Maybe I’m supposed to keep seeking even if the ground is shaking. There are still so many dances yet to be learned.