Flannel. Sweatshirt. Turn the tea kettle on. Grab my knapsack. Apple. Muffin. Tea. Keys and wallet and phone. All into the bag. Lastly hat, gloves, carhart, boots.
Driving to you, I realize that I am not fully awake. Dawn wholly bathes the fields and mountains in red glow. As I pull down the drive, my heart drums a little faster, a little louder. It is my choice to be here, in part for its unfamiliarity.
No souls in sight although morning has fully arrived. Shivering, I walk to the door, enter, and descend the stairs. Clinking and boot shuffles.
Red bucket, rag, sanitizer, hot water.
Metal pail, paper towels, stool.
I lean into you and you step to the left. I stand next to you. Hot water squeezed from the rag, I bathe your muddy udders.
We don't know each other fully and as you don't always stand well, cautiously I sit on my stool and begin to milk you. Squeezing right then left. Right, left.
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| Artemis - my girl |
Minutes pass. You shuffle back and turn your pretty brown eyes to gaze at me. My left hand becomes frustrated with your petite rear teats.
My rhythm lost, I am thankful when my neighbor spins around and begins to milk with me. Our hands lightly bump one another. I watch as our streams of milk cross before hitting the bottom of the pail - this simple interaction seemingly fused with tender romance.
We finish.
I weigh and record what you've given us this morning and filter your milk in with the other cows.
For a few moments, my milking partner joins me in observing the new piglets. Quietly, we leave the barn and join the others at farmers' breakfast.
Blessings are spoken, porridge is eaten, the candle is snuffed, and I must scurry off to work.
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| Zebra - I've only milked her once |
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| cows from behind. I know Athena is the first one. I think Billie Jean is the one turned to face the camera. |
originally written when it was super cold.
