On mornings I milk with my farmer I get coffee. He makes better coffee than I do. On mornings we milk together a little one usually joins us in the parlor; they sit, they watch, they help, and they listen.
This morning it’s my middle one. Little features appear in the door way, a small smile spread across her face because she found her way to us…slightly underdressed but in boots. She borrows my hooded zip-up, and takes a seat on a bucket.
Plans. Goals. To-do’s. Shoulda done differently. Some mornings there is silence. She sees damn near everything this farm makes you feel. There is excitement and joy, stress and worry. There is accomplishments and failures. This is where we talk it out. This is where we hold our business meetings.
She watched us dip a set of 8, swing milker’s to the other side and bring in 8 more. We talk about a few from each side:
she’s down on milk, -watch her tonight
she has a pinched nerve, -she’s my girl! get up there and rub it out
she needs to be dried off this week, -we can rotate the bull too
should we sell her next week, -i don’t know
She knows every cow has a story and we discuss every one. She knows what we do because she sees the whole process. She asks questions because how else will she learn.
So when my farmer asks me why I put this out there, why I put our farm out there, all I can say is – how else will people know?