Release Me?

There are times to hold on and there are times to let go.

When a loved one's time on this earth is over, we have no choice but to let go. However, we can hold on to all the memories. We can incorporate the best parts of that person into ourselves and go forward a little stronger and better than we were before, having been touched by another incredible life.

Sometimes, it's the past you have to let go of. Life is full of emotional bumps and bruises, you have to let them go. Sometimes you have to let go of the person or reason you got the bump, sometimes you have to forgive and forget; but you have to make the choice and move forward.

Sometimes, it is a way of life you have to let go of. Society evolves, the economy contracts and expands, and it is sink or swim for homes and businesses. But money is stuff and stuff gets bulky and hard to carry and sometimes (most times) we are better off with less of both. The most important things in life can generally be carried on your back or held with your hands or in your heart.

Just shy of half our milking herd is being trucked to the local auction house today. It is a business decision, and a personal necessity. Our lives are changing and the economy really does not favor small farms. It is difficult to devote your life to a business that does little more than break you financially. It is really love of the lifestyle and the animals (and sometimes fear of letting go and/or change) that keeps people in it.

So this week is difficult. It is about letting go of the old and welcoming the new with open arms, whatever it may bring with it.

Yesterday was about letting go. Goodbye Onyx, Lollypop, and Silky. My beautiful girls. I hope they are purchased by people who will love them as I do and treat them well; but there are no guarantees. I will probably stalk them online through the website that manages their pedigrees. That way, I will at least know if they have been classified (and if their scores go up they must be doing well!) and how they are milking (if they are milking well they must be treated well); if the farms that buy them classify their herds and do monthly milk testing. That's not a sure thing, either. I still check in on cows I sold three years ago! Maybe I will be lucky and know their buyers and then I can inquire about them from time to time.

Saying goodbye and letting go... it's never an easy thing to do. Sometimes you shouldn't. Let go when it is the best (and sometimes only) thing to do; but hang on to the good stuff. Hold tight to your memories, keep track of your friends, and cast off the heartache and the burdens whenever possible. Sometimes paring down is good for the soul.

Many Thanks

Today is my favorite holiday of the year! Thanksgiving: the day to take a moment and reflect on all the wonderful gifts in your life. Of course, you can, and should (!) do this daily; but today, we do this in a house that smells of turkey, onion and pie spices amongst the people we hold most dear. What’s not to be grateful for?

I’ve been taking stock and counting my blessings all month. Sometimes I try to rank the things that are most important. Many things have changed in my life over the last few years. Some things are changing currently. I’ve gained much and lost some in the process. I’ve let go of some things that turned my heart inside out. There’s still more of that to do. In those moments, I am grateful for the knowledge that while there is a lot lost in the release, there is much to gain to fill the empty spaces those losses provide.

Foremost, I am thankful for my children and all the love and life lessons they provide me. They fill our home with laughter and our hearts with warmth and happiness. I am thankful for the opportunity to guide their young spirits and; I hope, show them their potential is endless. All the while getting to revel in the uniqueness of their thoughts and the boundlessness of their love.

There seems to be no all encompassing words to delineate the gratitude I feel for my family (I count my husband in this. At some point, when I wasn’t looking, he went beyond being ‘that guy I dated and married’ to ‘my family’). Each person brings such different gifts! Laughter, wisdom, perspective, friendship, not to mention the partnership and respect borne of working together on a near-daily basis! I will not pretend the moments when it is all a little too close for comfort do not exist, but equally so are the moments when not close enough exist. At those times, it is good to go work with someone you like as much as you love. I'm glad I get to do that, too.

The life I have is also a tremendous blessing. The home located smack in the center of the story of my youth that mingles with the story that is being drafted currently; the farm that speaks of generations of family and history, of hard work and great love. The pleasure of writing and working and spending days peering into the future through the eyes of the under ten set. It’s not an extremely lucrative life; but it is an incredibly rewarding one.

Good friends. Second Chances. Stars and planets! Raindrops and rainbows. I am grateful for those moments when you realize it is entirely possible the best is still ahead of you. So while I am grateful for yesterday and today, I am even more thankful for all the tomorrows yet to come!

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Hope in a Lilly... and her Lillyanne

Let me tell you the story of Lilyanne.

It begins with her mother, Lilly, who was born in April, 2001. I was living in Michigan, pregnant with my first baby, and had recently lost a good friend to colon cancer. I had planned to call and tell her of my pregnancy when I got home from work that Good Friday. Instead, I came home to a message from her mother on my answering machine that she had passed away. Turns out, it wasn't such a good Friday.

Lilly was born a few days after that. When I lived away from home, my new calves kept me feeling connected to the farm. Grounded and centered in who I was, where I came from, and what really mattered to me in life. Lilly's birth gave me hope and reminded me that by fall another birth would illuminate my world in ways a million calves would never be able to.

I kept Lilly's picture at my desk at work. She was always the first cow I thought of as those early years went by. She grew and brought forth six daughters of her own, three of which did not survive their youth for exceptionally unique, unforeseen and inescapable reasons.

As she aged, Lilly developed a unique personality and penchant for unpredictable behavior which usually hit it's peak just as she was about to calve. She instinctively knew that oxytocin release could induce labor and was found at the end of one gestation letting a calf help her induce her own labor. She was a genius! Within 24 hours, she gave birth to her daughter, Lollypop.

She got a little reckless after that. The next year, she decided to jump into the spreader shed on her way to the calving pen: a four foot drop to a concrete floor! Nobody thought a nine-year-old cow was going to take such a leap! Not only did she land on her feet, she turned around and tried to climb back up and into the barn! It wasn't long after that, her daughter, Liberty was born.

Her last gestation proved to be the most troublesome, however. Very early into the pregnancy, she injured herself going into her stall. It was serious. A quarter so damaged we couldn't milk it without causing her pain. The prevailing opinion was she should be slaughtered ASAP. Far be it from me to listen to logic, I decided to give her meds that would kill the quarter. Maybe she could stay as a three-quartered cow. At least, maybe I'd have the chance to get one more calf. My decision was a questionable one...

The meds made Lilly sick. She stopped milking and was put to pasture ("dried off") until her due date. As the months went by, it was plain to see, even from a football field away or greater, that her udder was in terrible shape and there would be no keeping her after the birth of her calf. She would only continue to hurt herself navigating the stalls and pasture. We all wondered what the chances were of that calf she carried being a heifer...

As her due date drew near, we mulled over the best ways to care for her. Wednesdays are auction days. We hoped this ornery cow might calve on a Tuesday so we could save her as much discomfort as possible and get her to the auction the next day. Nobody actually thought Lilly would comply, she had a knack for doing things her own way...

... But that's exactly how it went. Lilly gave birth to a heifer calf on a Tuesday morning. She went to market the next day. It broke my heart to let her go. But we went back to this little heifer calf, born sluggish and with very slack muscle tone. Prevailing logic concludes the injury and meds we used to deal with it took their toll on this little girl. I worried she may not pull through, and she may not ever be a vigorous, healthy calf...

But as the days went on, Lilyanne perked up. She ate, she stood, she walked, she ran, she bounced!

Knowing the fate of three of her sisters, I held my breath through those early months. The other three hadn't survived long enough to be weaned off milk before some random illness swept them away. Lilyanne did and continues to thrive!

So there you have it. My miracle story that began almost a year ago! Had I not had hope, had I not taken a chance my family thought I was crazy to take, I would not have this now vibrant calf bouncing around, bullying her peers, and becoming the touchstone her mother once was for me.

Hope, determination and perseverance can currently be summed up for me in one word: Lilyanne.

Gaining Definition

per•se•vere: intr.v. -vered, -ver•ing, -veres. To persist in a purpose, an idea or a task in the face of obstacles or discouragement.

... As in I WILL, and/or YOU CAN!

Sometimes Someday is Simple

Sometimes, life hurts.
Sometimes, you go into a situation knowing it will hurt.
Sometimes, the things you learn along the way make the pain worthwhile.

Sometimes it feels like the pain will never go away.
Sometimes pain is the only thing that keeps you from moving forward.
Sometimes the only thing you can think of is how to make the pain disappear.

Someday, the pain will subside.
Someday, the only thing that will remain are the lessons.
Someday, you will be glad you were brave enough to go on the journey.

Someday, you will be stronger.
Someday, you will be fearless again.
Someday, you will take another chance, knowing it may hurt.

Simply put, as long as there is life and love and lessons to learn, there will be pain.
Sometimes you will ask if you're going to hide from pain, or really live?
Someday, you will ask yourself, and the best advisor... will be you.

Picture Day!

It's picture day at the farm!

This is a little different from getting all dolled up and sitting pretty with your most cherished loved ones; squeaky clean and primped and proper for one of those bookmark-in-time moments to look back on and say 'remember how we were then?'. Actually, the people will be (judging by the weather outside today) wringing wet and possibly a bit frazzled by the end of this session. It's the cows who are primped and preened and looking gorgeous!

We have three models today: two are three years old and one is probably four or five. Good ages. The unpredictable and often hard-to-handle spunk of a two-year-old, first-calf heifer has toned down a bit as they reach three and four. They are around people all the time, familiar with being led by a halter... but this picture stuff... well, only a few have this experience! Just like human models, they have to be beautiful! These three most certainly are.

One by one, they will be led outside to a grassy place in the lawn that has been groomed and set up to accent their frames perfectly. They will love the rain and crisp fall air. That could make them a little spunky!

It will take SIX (even as many as eight are useful) people to help each cow strike the perfect pose: one to stand at her head and keep her in place with her head held at the optimum height. One person is assigned to each foot, and our photographer will instruct each person in turn to adjust each foot however many inches forward, backward, inward or outward. This is probably the most time consuming portion of this whole extravaganza! Because as you move one foot this way or that, the cow will tend to shift her weight (and thus her legs!) to a position she is more familiar with. So you get to the third leg and she moves the first one and after about the sixth or seventh time this happens you have to wonder if this picture will ever happen! The sixth person manages the tail. No, I am not kidding! The tail has to be seated perfectly square and hang straight down, not tucked, not switching from side-to-side; perfectly still.

Another fun responsibility of the tail guy is to catch whatever might possibly decide to eliminate itself from the picture with a shovel or bucket and clean the area with paper towels. You know when it's coming. The photographer has a tendency to holler "OH SH*T!" or some version thereof. Yeah, I try not to be the tail guy! I'd rather try to move one of those big feet.

If you are lucky, there will also be a noisemaker. This person's primary responsibility is to bawl like a calf, shake a towel or do anything he or she can think of to get that cow to pitch her ears forward and look like she is extremely alert. You have to be confident to do this job, because you feel like an idiot!

At the end of the session, which could be an hour or two or an all day event depending on how cooperative your models choose to be (they have been known to CHARGE off the set when they've had enough of all the fussing!), we will have (hopefully!) a great shot of each cow, suitable for using in advertisements, framing for display if she turns out to be a "dam of dams", meaning a great cow who has given birth to other great cows; and to look back on sometime in the distant future and remember this moment in time... how the world was, who we were, the direction we were taking. It's all changing. Inevitability, well, it's inevitable.

Will This Matter When I Am 80?

That question was posed to me just this week.

"Will the dishes matter when you are 80?"

Huh! Probably not.

I was late to the barn this week. I've been late to the barn nearly every day this summer. Children rarely have timeliness on their priority lists. However, the child in me still desperately needs the approval of her father, who is also her boss! That child tends to get rather stressed when she is going to be late for work.

So, I was halfway to the barn (already late, mind you) when I hear the cry of my son behind me. His tricycle is stuck, on the other side of the yard, and my daughter and I are leaving him in the dust on our way to the barn. First, I feel the usual swell of frustration rising in my chest.

"Will this matter when you are 80?"

And I stop. What matters more? My dad possibly being angry I am late? Or drying the tears of my little boy?

The anger melted away. I walked back to my son. I smiled and told him "No big deal, we'll get there," and I pulled him and his tricycle all the way to my parent's yard. His tears dried and he talked happily to me all the way there.

We were 15 minutes late. The barn was fine, my dad was fine, the day went on...

... But the Barn Diva grew up a little.

The Height of Summer Glory

The apex of my summer has arrived... the sweet corn is ready to pick!

Who doesn't love sweet corn, right? But it is more than that for me. It is an excuse (and I do seem to need one) to abandon the housework, the never ending stream of dishes, laundry and what is THAT smell emanating from the bathroom (? - shudder...); trade work boots for water shoes, gather the kids and spend an hour in the creek and the corn patch!

Traded is the noise of the television and the XBox in favor of the gurgle of the creek and the giggles of my children. Hot, tired feet are refreshed as they are bathed in cool, flowing water. Though we are only a hundred yards or so from the house, it is somehow even more quiet at the creek than in our backyard!

Walking through the rows of corn, looking for ears ripened to perfection, is a chance to get lost. The kids call from the creek to make sure I have not vanished literally! And I affirm that I am, in fact, physically present among the swaths of green leaves and golden silk. My mind, however, is excluded from the roll call. I don't know where it goes nor do I care! Because it is quiet. A rare, beautiful, and very much appreciated thing. The worries of the housework left undone, bills to pay, needs of my children, are temporarily abandoned in favor of savoring the delight my senses are currently immersed in.

The walk home with a cloth shopping bag or two, filled to the brim with sweet corn, is equally satisfying. The kids are happy little birds, chirping excitedly at my side about tadpoles, forget-me-nots, slugs and a host of other fantastic discoveries. The fun continues when we get home, as I now have approximately 24 un-husked reasons to sit outside and be the exclusive audience for the exciting trampoline performance my children have created just for me. I must say, some of their stunts are truly breathtaking... (and heart-stopping!)

Once the corn is husked and it is time to return to the kitchen, I am truly refreshed. A day at a spa could not be more restorative for me than an hour in the corn patch! We enjoy a delicious dinner and the extra is frozen in anticipation of cooking it this winter. When the air is cold and the snows deep, we will have a reminder of the joy and serenity found by the creek the previous summer, and look forward to doing all again, next summer!

Clean, Happy Fair Divas

It is the week of the county fair in my neck of the woods. An exhausting, fun filled, often dramatic week for most anyone who exhibits animals in one town while maintaining the day-to-day operations of their farm at home. Weeks before the fair are spent preparing the animals you will exhibit. This means washing and re-washing to make yellowed tails and white patches (hopefully!) as white as snow.

It means walking your show animals around your yard as often as humanly possible so they will (hopefully!) be completely docile and well behaved on their halters. Even in the face of running, screaming children; golf carts; balloons and the unfamiliar sounds of the midway, your animal (hopefully!) will walk calmly beside you and be indifferent to this foreign environment. Hopefully! Because if you have ever tried to stop a scared cow or even yearling calf from running full tilt down the midway... you know that one hundred plus pounds is no match for five hundred pounds plus of flying fear!

Luckily, it is a wonderful week for people who commute across their driveways to work 52 weeks of the year. (Yeah, you don't get fair week off from farming! There are no vacations in this occupation) You get to commune with other dairymen and women, check out the finest in their herd and take pride in the fact that yours is not the only farm where people love what they do and do it well! You can relate to the struggles they've had in the past year and celebrate their successes. You can also hope your animal wins the blue ribbon over their animal... but in the event that doesn't happen, sportsmanship kicks in and you happily watch as those blues are hung over the backs of the other cow.

It's a chance for people who visit the fair to get a taste of farm life. To see cows at their finest, see one milked in the parlor, talk to a dairyman about a day in their life. And hopefully those conversations build trust between producer and consumer. That we love our animals and take pride in them and the milk they produce for our dairy consumers. We would never knowingly ship a poor quality product!

We would also never harm these animals to get more milk from them. Mistreating them in any way actually will produce an opposite effect. You get less milk of lesser quality! The California Cow commercials sum it up perfectly - Happy Cows make happy milk! That is why when you go to the fair, you'll see barn fans running non-stop and often at a speed greater than what is comfortable for a person. They aren't for the people, they are for the cows. You will also see cows and calves getting washed, constantly! It's not just about appearance, but keeping them cool and comfortable is really important.

The fair animals often come home a bit spoiled. We trucked out three divas to the fairgrounds this week and when they return to the usual routine at the end of the week, one in particular will be standing in her end stall wondering who will be coming to fluff her tail and trim her ear hair! My first fair animal, Michelle, developed a fondness for cotton candy during her fair days and I could see when she got home, she was looking for her sweet treats for weeks after.

You can't spoil them all every day of every year. But we do try to keep them as comfortable as possible! New gadgets to help with that are always of interest. Which is why I am fascinated with this new cow wash device a friend made me aware of.

How cool it would be for our cows to be able to clean up whenever they feel the need! We have a tie stall facility. That means each cow has her own stall that she lives in. She is let out for exercise every morning while barn is cleaned. I can imagine this cow wash installed in a breezeway between the pasture and the barn. Each cow could clean up after "playtime" and return to her clean stall all refreshed... how cool is that? They would love that big brush, I'm betting we'd have about 64 shower hogs and it would take a REALLY long time to get them back in the barn!

The expense of installing such a device makes it quite impractical at the moment; but it is food for thought. For the time being, our girls will have to savor the summer rains and the diva cows and their caretakers will enjoy their week of at the fair!

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Accessories Optional?

Every Wednesday is auction day. Quite often we have a bull calf to sell or sometimes a cow. My dad usually does the trucking and rarely fails to return home with some interesting tale of humor, adventure, or misadventure!

This week was no exception. It would seem a trucker came in with a bunch of heifer (female) calves. He informed the man who was checking the animals in that the load was all female. The man took a quick scan of the lot of them and informed the driver that two of them were bulls. The driver had no idea how this was possible. He was told they were all heifers! He would have to inform the owner, as bull calves do not generally sell for as much money as a heifer.

As dad recounted the exchange, I kept thinking back about a month. I was following a truck down a rather bumpy dirt road. Three calves were riding in the back of the truck and even though the truck was going slow, they were really getting jostled around! I couldn't help but laugh and had to comment, based on what I had seen previously, that it can be a very bumpy ride to the auction barn and perhaps some "extra options" got bounced down for a couple of those calves...

A Wonderful Time

A strong hand at my waist guides me effortlessly as we glide around an open-air environment. Our dance is so easy. It feels as though we are floating, our feet never touching the ground. I can feel the lightest layers of periwinkle chiffon swirling around and behind me and somehow I manage to be graceful enough never to trip.

My partner is an indescribably handsome stranger. Young, dark haired, gentle eyes and equally gentle hands that guide me with a strength that is not forceful, but comforting. My heart feels so full; I never want this moment to end! Just as the thought enters my mind, I hear him say, “I have to go.”

“I don’t want you to,” I say calmly, knowing this parting was inevitable.

“I know. But didn’t we have a wonderful time? What a wonderful time we have had.” I hear the words; but I no longer see the man.

“He’s gone. Your Aunt just called.” My mother’s voice breaks into the room.

“OK,” I say. I roll to my side, pull the covers up under my chin, and calmly begin to drift into the reality of the morning. July 10, 2002, my grandfather has just passed away after suffering for months with prostrate cancer. The words still echo in my mind as the morning sun enters my awareness. I do not feel devastated. I feel grateful for the moments I had with him that I will now hold forever in my heart.

My grandpa taught me to tie my shoes. He gave me my first cow. He played endless games of Yahtzee and later Triominoes and even later Dominoes with his grandchildren. When I was in college and broke, this retired dairy farmer "bought" a calf from me to see me through the rough patch, and never had the ownership papers transferred to him. His laugh was the most unique, contained chuckle I have ever heard. I can still hear it today. His eyes the most incredible blue and when he was about to tell you a joke, their twinkle rivaled any star I have ever seen.

We did. We had a wonderful time! Every moment I had with him was a gift. What an example he set for his children and grandchildren. Kindhearted, but strong, gentle but determined! A leader in his community, a friend, a hard worker, an intelligent business man who loved his wife, raised his children with a firm, consistent and caring hand; and enjoyed his grandchildren for all their uniqueness and potential.

I miss my grandpa. I think of him often. I can’t help but be reminded that not only did we have a wonderful time; but I am bearing witness to another generation having their own, equally wonderful time, with another kindhearted, strong, intelligent man.

My dad, I believe, is currently at the height of glory in his role as Grandpa. With grandkids ranging in age from infant to young adult, his mornings begin with grandkids and sometimes end the same way. His afternoons are touched by a pre-schooler who has zero interest in cows but shares his love of cheese and ice cream, and a school age granddaughter who loves his cows almost as much as he does. He spends his weekends with one of his beautiful young adult granddaughters, and revels at her many talents, endless potential and effortless beauty that radiates from the inside, out. From inside his barn, dad can ponder the future of his oldest granddaughter, and marvel at how she is so independent as she makes her way in the world. I've had to leave out some of the most extraordinary of this generation, but they are not any less important or loved in his eyes, or mine.

It is still a wonderful time. An incredible time. It will never be the same again. It will always change and yet, it remains. Thank you, Grandpa, for setting the stage for this generation. For teaching me to be kind, strong, smart, determined and hard working. I may never again have such a wonderful dance partner; but I will never stop dancing in the glory of all the wonderful people and things that are around me.

Better a Diva than True Royalty

As June Dairy Month melds into July this week, I realize, in my old(er) age, that I am a far better Diva than a Princess! My Delusional intentions of posting dairy focused recipes every week was far too ambitious as our days were filled with dance recitals, Pre-K events and other nearly-forgotten-but-arrived-just-in-the-nick-of-time extravaganzas. I was also absolutely determined to not post another recipe or suggestion I hadn't yet tried!

So I had to try the Pina Coladas....

I DID try the Pina Coladas.... FOUR times! In ONE Night! For me, this is a lot! Good recipe! Highly recommend it, with the coconut rum! By the end of the evening, my ability to giggle was high and my ability to spell was dreadfully low. But hey, how important is spelling, really? That's what they make spell check for!

So as we leave June and I finally have had my Pina Colada experience, I am now free to share this one other, new recipe I tried which was met with positive reviews from my children but I can assure you my husband wouldn't have touched had there been a loaded weapon pointed straight at him! But I liked it too and majority rules in this situation so here we go! This is a great one for using up leftover steak, so it's a quick fix before you dash off to - wherever you just figured out you had to be!

Steak Fajitas

1 bag frozen pepper stir-fry blend
1 Cup plain fat free yogurt
1 Cup prepared salsa
1 TBSP butter, softened
8 (8 inch) whole wheat tortillas
Leftover prepared grilled steak, cut into strips
1 1/2 Cups shredded cheddar cheese

Prepare stir-fry blend according to package directions. Mix yogurt and salsa and set aside. Spread butter on 1 side of each tortilla, flip over and layer cooked peppers and onions, steak strips and cheese. Cover with remaining tortillas. Grill in large skillet on each side for about three minutes (medium heat) until golden and cheese is melty. Cut into wedges and serve with dipping sauce.

Enjoy! Thanks to the coffee flavored yogurt I just downed, I may have enough energy to capture my children and get them in the tub!

June is Dairy Month!

A friend reminded me today that June is Dairy Month! So it is time to celebrate cows, dairy farmers and all the delicious treats that wonderful collaboration makes possible for us. As a former dairy princess (yes, there is such a thing and yes, I was one!) I want to share some favorite recipes that put dairy products in the spotlight.

This one is a great, cool drink for hot summer months - Milk Punch! There are a few different flavors, but this one is our family favorite... so much so, my grandmother used to serve it at the family Christmas gatherings! Enjoy!

Milk Punch
(tastes like a creamsicle!)

1 quart milk
1 quart ginger ale (Sprite, 7-Up, whatever’s handy!)
1 quart orange sherbet

Put softened sherbet in a large bowl. Add milk, then slowly add ginger ale!

This one I just found in my old dairy princess stuff.
Never tried it; but I think I might tonight!

Pina Colada

1 Cup Milk
½ Cup Ginger Ale
½ Cup Crushed Pineapple
½ tsp. Coconut Flavor (how about Coconut Rum?)
5 Ice Cubes
Combine Ingredients in Blender until frothy, about one minute. Serves 3.

A Broken Jewel

Despite my high hopes, positive attitude, and the care and patience of everyone on the farm, Opal will not recover. The vet is coming to put her down today. Opal hasn’t stood up in more than two weeks. I have spent the last week watching her appetite, her weight, and her spirit, dwindle. I have seen that the look in her eyes has changed from confusion and determination, to acceptance and the distance that comes when a living being is ready to leave the world.

It was my decision. Essentially, I’ve signed her death warrant. There is no easy decision here for me. I don’t like to give up on things. Even when all the potential is gone, I still search for one tiny little spark, some indicator that there is still hope. But to wait for every last spark to fade from this girl would be cruel. I have made the right decision. Her life will end before another week goes by, before she wastes away to nothing. My decision will give her peace.

I told her twin sister, Onyx, a couple of days ago. I apologized for lying to her. I had assured her Opal would be back. At the time, I believed that! I’m sure some will read this and think I am nuts. They’re just cows, Onyx doesn’t understand or care. But cows are also herd animals. They are meant to live in groups. With the exception of the few months where one was dry and the other milking, Onyx and Opal have always been together. And Onyx knows the stall beside her is still empty.

During the morning shift that I worked when Opal was first injured, she had walked to the back end of the pasture during their outside time. It took me a while to get her back in; it was a long, slow walk back. Onyx, who I’ve been told is usually among the first to go back in the barn, waited for her sister to catch up to her before she went in that day. Onyx won’t dwell on this the way a human dwells on such a loss, but I feel she does understand, and feel the emptiness.

Though this is a sad day for me, there is happiness to be found. A young heifer of mine has been moved into the “pre-fresh” area of the barn. Pre-fresh is an free-stall area (cows are not tied, but can roam about within the confines of the space) of the farm where the cows that are within a month or so of calving are housed. In warm weather, once a cow is dried off, she is put out to pasture for a while, and then brought back in to pre-fresh. In the winter, they stay in the pre-fresh area the entire time they are dry.

Lolypop, Lilly’s two-year-old daughter, has been moved into pre-fresh. My son named her when HE was two years old! We try to keep all the cow’s names to seven letters or less, so we had to misspell it to make it fit.

Lolypop is also Opal’s niece, so though Opal has no daughters of her own to carry on her genes, she does have Lolypop and a couple other, younger nieces who will continue to move forward. Though I doubt it, I have to wonder if Lolypop will be the one to stand by Onyx and fill that empty stall. I would love that! However, they tend to be placed in their stalls for more functional reasons (such as their comfort level in a particular location and how they match up in size and appearance to their stall mates) than heredity or emotional ones.

It is hard to ignore the circle of life when working on or around a farm. You say goodbye to one, and another comes up and gives you something new to celebrate! It can be a very life-affirming thing. Life always goes on. Even when you don’t feel like stepping forward, life steps forward and carries you with it. Into the next chapter.

Mother's Daze

My kid’s bedrooms are disastrous. Sometimes, when my husband is working the afternoon shift, we eat cereal for dinner. My kids get a bath a couple times a week and unless they are covered in actual DIRT (or other farm-related matter), I think that is just fine. I’ve discontinued the endless stream of Laurie Berkner and Kindermusik in my car stereo and now my eight-year-old daughter knows all the words to pretty much every P!nk tune that ever made the Top 10, as well as Nickleback and a host of others whose lyrics I am fully aware are not always appropriate for the under ‘tween set.

Last night, my children left our yard and escaped to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. As I finished prepping their dinner, they were eating peach pie and chitchatting next door, and I had no idea they had left the yard. I told them to stay home twice before they actually made it all the way there, you can see how well they mind me!

I’ve screwed up the sex talk, forgotten to pack a toy for show and tell, forgotten it was library day, and allowed my children to trash the house making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches so I could spend an extra long time in the shower. I demand they relinquish the television for half an hour every day so I can do yoga and I couldn’t care less if Team Uumizoomi (or however you spell it!) is on! It is time for you to find something else to do for 30 stinkin’ minutes, darlings.

And Sunday, my proud, excited little children will present me with gifts they have labored over in school to reward my exemplary behavior as their mother. Parenting magazines encourage us to spend the entire month of May celebrating our awesomeness! For real? I am far from awesome! There was a time when I might have considered myself somewhat the selfless, self-sacrificing hero mothers are extolled to be; but not lately!

There are days when the cows are MUCH more appealing to me than my own children! Cows don’t whine, complain or argue. You may get kicked or bunted; but that is (usually) a short-lived pain. Cows do not climb into bed with you and stick their feet in your ribs! Nor do they color on your cabinets or get blueberry stains on your throw pillows.

This is the mother my children are celebrating today. How lucky are they? I can only imagine the backlash that is coming when they are old enough to hold me up to their own personal parenting standards and detail every instance in which I failed to live up to the gold standard of motherhood.

My mother got that backlash from me. Before I had children, I examined my own childhood and shined a harsh light on every wretched and painful moment and vowed I would NEVER make the same mistakes! Huh! I’d be Mega Mom!

If she reflected on that phase of my life last evening, as my children sat at her counter, eating peach pie before dinner, I hope she laughed. At me. For a REALLY long time!

Because my mother wasn’t any more or less perfect than I. Her ways influenced mine. Hopefully, I don’t make the same mistakes she did. Unfortunately, there are plenty of other missteps and pitfalls to land in!

Now, I look back on my childhood and I am floored by some of her finer qualities that I only wish I had. Like her patience for a sick child. When my kids are sick, I get so frustrated! I want to be able to fix it fast and take their pain away (OK - and get back to bed!)! I get really tense when I can’t fix it and I feel like they are suffering as a result. Mom could be up all night (when I had the chickenpox, she was probably up for DAYS!), and her patience with us never waned. Puking, whining little kids never fazed her.

She taught me how to color, too. I remember her, on the floor of the living room, coloring with me. I told her I envied how neat her picture was and how she stayed in the lines. Mom was the one who taught me to outline the area I wanted to color and then fill it in.

Best of all, when my Mom laughs, you can’t help but laugh with her. There are times when we did things that would have made any other mother ready to sell us to the nearest bunch of gypsies. Our table manners were particularly lacking when humor was at stake… but Mom laughed so hard she cried. Her nose turned up a little more, her cheeks flushed and tears ran from her eyes just as fast as the laughter was bubbling from her throat.

My mom taught me what it is to be compassionate, thoughtful, helpful and patient. To find the joy when you really ought to be angry. I can’t say I do it the way she does; but I know it is possible. And there are days when I try to do this mother thing a little better, because I think she tried her best too.

What will my kids say about all of my failings? Maybe they will think our occasional Fruit Loops dinners were cool? When they look back on all of this, I hope the one thing they are doubtless about is my love for them. They drive me crazy sometimes! But when they say ‘I love you, Mom’ (especially after they have been REALLY naughty!); the quiet moments spent cuddling or reading stories; when we’re cheering each other’s fantastic stunts on the trampoline; when they’re running around the barn finding their own unique ways to enjoy the place I love so much; I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world. Not even the cows.

I don’t think I’ll spend an entire month celebrating how awesome I am. I think the best gift I can give myself is to spend one entire Sunday celebrating the woman who shaped the woman I am, and two kids who gave me the opportunity to try my hand at this permanent title. I am proud to be a daughter, and a mom! Happy Mother’s Day to all of you who share either occupation.

Zen Gardening

A warm, gusty breeze blows my hair wildly varied directions. My bare feet feel the soft earth beneath them. Warm sun on my skin as I fall into the gentle rhythm of my annual labor of love. Yes, this is one of the best times of year for me, without a doubt.

The beginning of my annual foray into vegetable gardening. I do not claim to be very good at this; but I do enjoy it immensely! My husband has tilled a huge garden for me, far bigger than I can keep up with! He uses a gas-powered tiller; I use the classic rake, hoe and shovel. I do not have much success with power equipment. The simple process of trying to pull start these items usually frustrates me to the point of exasperation. Then try to wield one as it rattles and vibrates your body into oblivion and the noise! UGH! You can’t expect to clear your mind over the din of a tiller.

I am even worse at field work at the farm. I haven't even attempted to help at that since I was a teenager! If you cannot back and tractor and manure spreader into the shed, don't even attempt to run anything else. I stick to the cows at the farm; but at home, I can pretend I am keeping up with the progress in the fields...

Zen gardening seems to be my thing. Spending endless hours raking rocks off the garden; my hands are well blistered before the first seed is ever sown! And yet, I find this gratifying. I have learned to put newspaper between the rows to help keep the weeds down, as I do not have the time or energy to keep up with their continual assault on my tender young plants. My rows are crooked and unevenly spaced. I will plant until it is too late in the season to plant more and I still will not make it to the end of the vast space allotted to this yearly endeavor! There will inevitably be an ugly corner of this garden that is completely overrun by weeds. Unsightly, to be sure!

But it will be fun.

My children will assist in the weeding and seeding of this plot for about five minutes every time I am out there. I do not make them help me. My garden is my happy place. If you cannot work happily in this space, you should not work there! If I am not happy working there, I stop for that day. For me, it is not about completing the task the fastest or growing the biggest or most plentiful foods (though I will say it is incredibly rewarding when that happens!). It is about getting out there and enjoying the process. Being outside, moving and making something that will benefit everyone in my home.

By summer, when the kids are snacking on snow peas and I am enjoying endless varieties of spinach salad, I will be completely immersed in my Zen state. No need to drive to the grocery store, just walk barefoot to the garden and choose your perfect snack or meal. Yup! This is bliss!

Now, where in the heck did I put the seeds?

The Danger in Safety

The grass is green and the kids are outside, merrily jumping on their trampoline. They are happy. I am gratified by the peace and space afforded me in them having taken their play outside. My husband is in the woods, it is the first day of turkey hunting season. Again, I say, I am grateful for the peace.

But I am also a little nervous, as I have been most every spring, summer, fall (OK and winter!) since becoming a mother. Warm weather means everyone is out doing all manner of different things, and there is danger in all of those things! Kids bounce off trampolines and land on their head, break an arm, you name it! Hunting accidents happen every year. Accidents can happen any time at the farm, but seems even more probable with kids and tractors constantly on the move. I see the kids running around and the worrywart in me can picture a million different, awful scenarios.

It’s not just bodily harm that causes my worry. Emotional safety is something I also think about. There is emotional safety in having the same roof over your head every night, the same people to come home to every day. Safety in having a steady job and a paycheck you can rely on. Daily routines are a comfort. These are all good things, I think.

Or, maybe they are not. Not always.

Safety can breed complacency. Being continually afraid to fall, may make you afraid to jump! The steady paycheck may make you afraid to step away from that miserable job you go to day after endless day, and halt your search for your true passion. If you are afraid of being shot, you may never set foot in the woods!

If you don’t venture out, take the risks, you miss out, and so do your kids. Because if they see you always playing it safe, aren’t they more likely to do the same? We joke about putting our kids in a bubble when we are worried about them. Wouldn’t it be nice to put them (and sometimes even ourselves!) in this protective little bubble and know they were safe no matter what? Nobody will call them names at school, they will never get their hearts (or arms!) broken, we can all just be safe and comfortable and happy.

Maybe not truly happy; but happy enough, right?

Not for long! Because safe is BORING!!!! If you are safe all the time, have you really lived? As far as we know, we get one go round on the big spinning ball. I’ve checked all my pockets and have yet to find my return ticket! When it is my turn to dash off into the great, wide open, I don’t won’t be satisfied to look back and realize I never got hurt. I want to know that I’ve LIVED! I’ve seen, felt, heard, tasted, smelled – EXPERIENCED – everything that I possibly could! It won’t always be safe, probably not even smart, but neither will it be boring!

If that is what I want for me, who am I to deny my family of that?

So, my kids are outside on the trampoline and gunshots are ringing out in the woods. And everything is fine. As long as there are helmets, seat belts and blaze orange hunting clothes, we don’t need to worry… too much…

Attaining Awesome

Anyone can be awesome, you have to define what awesome is for yourself.

If, when the sun finally sets on my father's farming career, he can look back on it all with satisfaction. If he can say he accomplished what he intended to and is happy with the direction the farm is (hopefully) headed with the next generation; if my presence there in any way contributes to his overall satisfaction in what he has achieved, I will be 1/3 awesome.

If my children grow up to be confident, capable human beings who learn to attain awesome regardless of the challenge. If they work to achieve it in spite of their own failings, if they learn how to achieve it BECAUSE of their own failings; I will be 2/3 awesome.

If, somehow, in the midst of all this, I manage to find a true direction, some talent that is purely mine, and become a success (the measure of that will be determined later) in my own right; I will be totally awesome!

How will you attain awesome?

Shower, please!

It is spring and as the grass gets progressively thicker, so do the dates on my family calendar. This week, I have a meeting, appointment or extra-curricular activity marked on every single day of the week, a relatively new occurrence. Babies don’t play t-ball or need to be registered for Kindergarten! So another aspect of this new phase of my life is beginning. However, I refuse to put a “Mom’s Taxi” sign in the window of my car!

After spending years at home with little ones, it was incredibly refreshing to begin working at the farm. Grown up voices began to replace the indelible strains of Dora the Explorer and the continual loop of alphabets, shapes and colors were replaced with discussions of politics, newspaper articles, and soap opera recaps and predictions. My brain had spent five years existing on what amounts to mental Fruit Loops and suddenly it is savoring thoughts as sophisticated as dark chocolate!

Like a parched throat gulps water, I thirst for adult conversation. I also chatter like a mad squirrel! It’s good to hear my grown up voice using big person words – hey, I AM still in here! That’s a relief! I leave the barn feeling refreshed and ready to be mommy again.

Then Facebook came into my world. Now there is grown up talking and the intelligent thoughts of people I know and can relate to right at my fingertips… OOOOOHHHHHH that is addicting! So this is who I chat with every morning over coffee – and what a wealth of different personalities to choose from, too! 111 of my favorite people, and they never fail to disappoint with their wit, candor and informational posts. If you have a Facebook account, you can almost skip the news. You will find sports scores for your favorite teams, the details on the latest legislation congress is working on, the passing of whatever actor just OD’d, you name it!

When I first logged on, I feared Facebook would amount to little more than a huge time suck! Guess what? It is! I spend too much time on it. But spring is going to force me to cut back. Mom’s going to have to start spending her mornings preparing for the afternoon activities or my children will not get to bed at a time conducive to waking up happy and ready to board the bus in the AM.

As if getting everyone off the bus and ready to go to their respective after school destinations on time isn’t enough of a magic act, I have one other little thing that heightens the degree of difficulty: I must shower before we go!

I am not being a diva here, at all. This is for the public good! Because after spending the afternoon in my most favorite place, I do not smell like anything that blends well in a ballet studio, school or doctor’s office! I love all the great smells on the farm (diesel, silage and boot disinfectant are truly among my faves!) But putting them in any sort of enclosed setting is just wrong… and other people are not nearly as appreciative of those smells as I!

So my shower time begins as an act of public service. Then, as I savor the smells of shea butter and coconut, my shower becomes another time suck. Ooops! I set timers for my kids so they get fair turns playing computer games and their teeth have quality time with their toothbrushes daily. Now the kids are going to have to start using the timer on me! Thank goodness my son is in t-ball – I am much less toxic to the noses of my fellow moms in open-air environments! Luckily, the calendar is full, so I’ll get lots of practice. I’m hoping by the end of May, I’ll have this daily kiddo karting down to a science.

Dueling Divas

So Ms Opal needed a little more R&R than could be found in the confines of the barn. She has stopped making milk and is lounging in the grass outside the barn. The swelling in her leg has gone down considerably, and she is eating well. She hasn’t gotten up in a few days but the consensus seems to be that it is less an issue of ‘can’t’ and more an issue of ‘don’t want to’.

So we carry hay, TMR and water to her throughout the day - who’s the diva now?

Ummmm, I’m thinking that is still probably me.

Gentlemen, you may want to check out of this piece right now, I am about to go girlie on you!

Because it wasn’t too long ago I began going to the barn with a face full of makeup, nearly every day. Ok, so I’m not exactly dressing up to go to the barn. It’s more like this weird little painting exercise that is creeping it’s way into my morning routine.

I get up, get the kids breakfast and one on the bus, do a little yoga, and go get dressed and wash my face. Skin feels tight, so a little tinted moisturizer feels pretty good! A little while later will surely find me wandering in the bathroom for one thing or another, at which point I notice the dark circles that have decided to permanently befriend my eyes these days. Sooo we dot on a little concealer. Oooh! That’s better!

My son gets on the bus and by late morning I believe it just becomes a creative outlet. Here is a box FULL of color, placed in the hands of a girl who LOVES to color with her kids – they are at school and I REALLY should be cleaning! But who can resist! Sweep on some pretty apricot blush, whatever color eye shadow I find appealing at the moment… then we must outline with the fun pencils and mascara! Nice!

I never spent this kind of time “coloring” when my kids were home all day. Did I even get dressed? Sure! In my husband’s sweats, usually. I have to laugh when I now find myself deciding which pair of barn jeans will look best with the old t-shirt I have chosen for the day. My favorite place to shop for clothes is Tractor Supply Company. Even better is when I actually get compliments on my TSC jeans (because you NEVER wear a brand new pair directly to the barn. Unless they are overalls, they start out as good clothes!) My girlfriends are usually surprised when I tell them where I bought them.

So barn fashion is now an upgrade from the old mommy wear. No wonder I feel like a diva! Work boots are shoes WITH HEELS… Fancy stuff, I’m telling you! Step aside, Opal, the afternoon shift just strutted in…

Cubes and Cows

Ever done any jail time? While I do not have a criminal record (as long as speeding tickets and fines for talking on my cell do not count…) I do feel like I have done a little time. The bars were hidden by thick, slightly padded and upholstered sides. When I was in there, I saw no windows. It was quiet all the time and the most important things to do while you were there were to be quiet, look presentable and agree with whoever was pulling your strings at the time.

Nope, it wasn’t an insane asylum either (though I’m sure there are a few who believe I would benefit greatly from one!) It was a cubicle in a corporate office!

The paycheck was great and I learned things I probably wouldn’t have learned at my previous job at the newspaper. Aside from the backstabbing, gossip and passing blame to the nearest peon, I did learn more about page layout and the programs I do that on.

Going to work there every day gave me a really good idea what church would be like if you took the part about it being spiritually uplifting out. You know, get dressed up in uncomfortable clothes, and go in happy - until you get there. Then keep your mouth shut and listen from 8-5. Do your job, DO NOT make a mistake! Because if you do, The Big Guy is gonna make you pay!!!

Because I worked there during the time when the corporation was nose-diving into it’s own demise, it felt like a daily game of Survivor. Layoffs were happening on an increasingly frequent basis and even the slightest misstep put you further down the path to YOUR demise. It was incredibly frustrating for me to be there. More so because it seemed ridiculous to me to have such a life or death attitude about sales fliers for lawn mowers, string trimmers and birdseed. I mean, REALLY! We are not printing copies of the Bible, here! Of course, mistakes cost money, I do get that. But people are human and they do make mistakes! That is why the words “correction” and “reprint” were invented!

Fiscally speaking, having grown up where I did, I am more about having Enough money, than stepping all over people to ensure I have Way More than Enough. I am about seeing the value in everything and everyone around you, not depreciating their self worth by cutting them down. I am about doing and making things that MATTER! So to freak out about a lawnmower price being printed $100 less than it was supposed to be that week (because it was more than likely on sale for that much the next week anyway...) and threaten someone’s job over it? Stupid! Get a grip! I really did not have the right attitude to attempt to climb any corporate ladder with to be certain…

I turned into a road raging lunatic every day after work. You could not get me away from that place fast enough! The day the tribe decided to snuff out my torch was really not a very bad day. I was a month away from delivering my beautiful daughter and had more to look forward to than to feel bad about. My new career would be much more gratifying than the old. Shaping this new little life, molding her into a confident, happy, self-fulfilled young person… yup, that is a job that matters!

The same is true about working at the farm. We are making something that matters there! People live on this stuff! My husband’s aunt said, at one point, her family went through seven gallons of milk a week! Holy Smoke! Kids grow on what we make every day. The bottom line is always a concern, because you have to be able to pay the bills – and sometimes the income really isn’t enough to do that. OK, a lot of times the income really isn’t enough to do that! So part of the reason people come back to this line of work day after day has to be the knowledge that people are living and growing on the milk we are producing.

I went back to the barn last night after getting home from our trip. So glad to be back! What I appreciated the most was the movement. You definitely don’t get that sitting in a cube all day! Once you start milking, you fall into a rhythm of walking from cow to cow to prep them, (cleaning them off and checking the quality of the milk), then walking back and forth to move the milkers from one cow to the next, then walking back to each one to post-dip (an iodine solution that seals the teats and helps keep bacteria out). Step, step, step, down, up, step, step, step over and over from one end of the barn to the next! In and out between the cows, sometimes stopping to baby one. The speed changes as you go from cows that milk faster, to cows that milk slower; but you rarely stop. I love it!

All that walking day after day on hard cement does not appear to be very good for feet and knees. But it is great for the soul! The only true politics in the barn revolve around discussion of ACTUAL politics. Gossip is usually light hearted and not malicious. Because I don’t milk with the same person every shift, you get new info and different perspective every day. How cool is that?

Some day soon, the kids will be old enough to get off the bus and be at home alone for a little while until someone gets home from work. I hope when that day comes, I have figured out a rewarding career that allows me to keep milking cows. I am just not made to do hard time!

Sooo Not Farming!

This weekend, my husband and I have brought the kids to Southern Ohio to visit their grandparents and the rest of their dad’s side of the family.

I am always struck by the social differences between how my husband and I were raised, and how we parent our children as a result. Since we are going to see his family, I consider this his trip. We do what he wants, when he wants. We are polar opposite and equally stubborn, so compromise is impossible! The only thing that works is for one or the other to simply give in on whatever subjects mean the least to that person.

So this is not my trip. I packed the kids and myself, and my husband is in charge of the rest. From the moment we get in the car, it is a different trip entirely than if it were just the kids and myself. The car is totally wired up! Portable DVD player installed between the front seats so the kids can watch movies the entire six-hour drive. A box stocked with chips, popcorn, cereals and a couple bottles of water is right at their feet.

The front seat hosts an AC power inverter so I can run my laptop the entire trip.

On one hand, this is bliss! Children who are quiet and entertained for six hours? When in life does this ever happen other than this? All this time stuck in a car means I am exempt from dishes, laundry, house cleaning and the endless and futile attempts to clean up the trail of toys that meanders its way continuously through our home! I have the impression that stay-at-home moms are expected to relish and cherish these tasks, because we are so fortunate to be ABLE to stay home to raise our children…

Though I work part-time at the farm and pick up design jobs whenever they present themselves, I do still consider myself a stay-at-home mom. And I do feel fortunate that I was there for every first and still get to be the one who gets them off the bus after school. You don’t ever get that time back. These are the moments these future adults will one day look back on and evaluate what worked for them, what didn’t, and what they will do differently in their own lives. It’s a big deal! I am glad to be the one who gets to be there. I don’t celebrate it every day; but at the end of the day, I couldn’t stand to let anyone else have this time with my kids.

The housework, however, I can do without! There is NOTHING more mundane and ENDLESS than housework! Clean the kitchen so you can make another meal and trash it again so you have to clean it AGAIN. It’s like being Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, except some days you are starting over three times in one day! ARGH!

So, for the weekend, I am excused! Hooray! And thanks, hubby! Because the kids are quiet too and, while you are driving, I can spend a large amount of time thinking grownup thoughts and pondering if technology is contributing to the breakdown of the modern family.

That is what I am wondering here. We are all wired up, plugged in, totally entertained, and completely tuned out. Is this a good thing? For me, heck yeah! Mommy needs a B.R.E.A.K! But what about the kids? They are staring at the middle of the car into a screen playing a movie they have seen at least as many times as they have zipped their own coats successfully. And while they are looking in, they are not looking out! They are not seeing the towns that are so different from their own. They aren’t looking at all the different kinds of cars, different license plates, different people doing different things inside those cars!

And they are not bored, either. Which means they are not thinking of ways to entertain themselves. They are not working the creative sides of their brains. It’s a missed opportunity.

They are also not fighting. Which means they are not learning how to stand up for themselves. Not learning how to negotiate or solve their own problems.

And in the close confines of this car, maybe they wouldn’t be getting that even if they weren’t plugged in. Because mom and dad get annoyed and don’t want to answer ONE MORE QUESTION about when we are going to get there or feel compelled to referee ONE MORE FIGHT! Is there anything to be gained by ending a six-hour drive with everyone frustrated with each other?

If you are in the right frame of mind, probably. But if you’re too unfocused or too negative to look for the teachable moments, it probably just gets stored away as a bad memory. So this time, this trip; we’re doing things the Dad Way. Mommy is experiencing the teachable moment: how to stop obsessing and LET GO!

I’m thinking the positive side of this is that my kids are being raised with knowledge of two different lifestyles. Being a part of the farm and living in a very rural setting affords them plenty of opportunity to use their imaginations and play (and fight!) together. They see my family working together to get things done, not always getting along, but always doing our best to respect each other and keep the big picture in view.

Daddy and their travels and adventures in Ohio will give them the opportunity to see what can be achieved when the world is right outside your door! That there is more to the world than open fields and cows. If one thing doesn’t work for you, can you spread your wings and explore other places and lifestyles, because your options are absolutely endless!

OK, so I am good with this. Plug me in, big daddy! We are two very different parents, and we have two very lucky kids because we are so different.

A Different Kind of Morning

Wednesday was my sister-in-law’s birthday. Once spring arrives, my brother and his wife get very little quality time together. A typical day for him begins around 5AM with milking and from there he goes straight to the fields where he works until dark. It doesn’t end there. If he doesn’t simply turn on the headlights and keep working, four nights a week, he is back in the barn at 9PM for night milking. Once warm weather hits, the average day for my brother is often 18 hours long. His only “weekend” or “holiday” comes in the form of a rainstorm, and if there are too many of those they are more stressful to him than his 120-hour workweek!

My dad decided he wanted to give his daughter-in-law her husband, for her birthday. He asked me to milk Wednesday morning so my brother could spend the morning with his wife. Fortunately, my husband was off work, so I was able to do this.

Typically, I am not a morning person. But there is something about starting my day before most people are awake that I am beginning to find oddly appealing! I went to bed early the night before (a luxury my brother rarely enjoys) so I would be ready to get up at 4AM. The house is so blissfully quiet before the kids, dogs and husband are up and around! I do yoga every day, so this is how I started my morning, with breath and stretching. Again, I must say, far more meditative while the house is quiet! I got dressed, had yogurt and water for breakfast, grabbed my flashlight and headed over to the barn just before 5, wide awake and ready to go!

Chores begin in the morning as they do in the afternoon and at night. Start the wash cycle to sanitize the milkers, and then out to the main part of the barn to clean up the platforms of the calves and the cows. As I am scraping, it is also my job to quickly survey each animal. First thing I look at is manure quality. This is especially important with the young calves. Runny manure, or scours, can indicate any number of illnesses. Just like with young children, young calves can get dehydrated and seriously ill in a matter of hours. We handle scours right away with a “cocktail” of vitamins and electrolytes.

In the cows, it is important to watch for reproductive information. Vaginal discharge can indicate what stage of estrous a cow is in. A few months after a cow calves, it is important to get her bred again. Dairy cows only make milk after they have given birth, and calves are the future of the herd! So to keep a cow milking, she has to have babies. So we look for signs of heat, missed heat or (this is rare) lost pregnancy.

While one person is cleaning at the back of the cow, another is working on what goes in the front end! This morning, it is my dad who is pushing feed back into the manger. As he does this, he is looking at the cow’s eyes and how much feed is left in front of each cow, more quick indicators of health. 64 pairs of bright alert eyes and fairly empty mangers are what we want to see. Once the mangers are pushed in, dad will drive the feed cart around and deliver fresh TMR (a custom mix of feed formulated by a nutritionist just for our herd) to the girls.

I go to the milk house and get out all the supplies we need to milk and within a half an hour of arriving to work, we are ready to get down to business. Milking 64 cows takes about an hour and a half; but there is much more to do in the morning! After milking we again clean all the milking equipment. Then we clean the barn. Mangers are completely emptied and old feed is replaced with fresh. The cows are let out and their stalls are cleaned out and re-bedded as are the calving and calf pens. Then the cows are let back in and the barn floor is scraped down.

This morning is even longer than that because we have a visit from one of our veterinarians. He comes about every two weeks and examines select cows to determine pregnancy and also addresses other health concerns we have about any other animals in the herd.

Today he finds my Onyx is pregnant! He also looks at Opal. He determines she has a hematoma. When she fell, Opal ruptured a blood vessel, which has caused her swelling and lameness. We are to continue our current course of action and hope for the best. I will certainly keep my fingers crossed. Opal made no milk this morning at all. She is not currently pregnant, so if her milk dries up, her place in the herd may be at risk.

It is 10:30 before I head home. Time to take care of my kids, do some dishes and prepare lunch before I am back at the barn for my usual shift at 1PM.

It’s been a good day already. My brother and his wife came to the barn at about 8 AM to do the cleaning and feeding chores. They were both appreciative of their morning together and in good spirits. It strikes me how much people take time for granted. Most of us have days off every week and we waste them in front of the TV or playing video games.

We take for granted the people we live with because we have time with them. But when you don’t, when you’re only seeing each other long enough to say hello before you crash out of total exhaustion, you realize what you have, and what you are missing. My brother and his wife have a great love and deep appreciation of each other, a rare thing in this world. It pleased me to be able to help my dad give them these few extra hours together, because I know how hard they are both working, and that they would spend this time well. They would spend it enjoying each other and their kids.

Opal

Today we have a little situation. Actually, we’ve had a little situation for a few days!

Within the herd, I personally own six cows. Lilly is the oldest at nine years; followed by six-year-old Sweetie; Onyx and Opal, my five-year-old twins; and two-year-olds Lively and Silky. Friday of last week, Opal fell while walking out to the pasture. This happens from time to time. Though the concrete floor of the barn is grooved to prevent slipping, cows (like children!) get in a hurry to get outside and push each other out the door or simply start moving too fast and slip. This is what happened to Opal.

Ordinarily, this would not be a very big deal. Cows slip, get up and keep going, just like people. But sometimes, just like people, you land wrong or you stretch too far. That is what happened to Opal! My poor baby’s leg is swollen from top to bottom. And I do mean SWOLLEN! As if one of the “America’s Next Top Model” contestants just got retrofitted with a leg from one of “The Biggest Loser” contenders – at the beginning of the season… Major ouch!

So everyone is doing what they can to help poor Miss Opal. She has been moved from her smaller stall (next to her twin), to a larger stall at the front of the barn. We hope that will give her a more room to maneuver so she can get up and down a little easier as she recovers. Medication has to be chosen with great care. It’s not just about Opal! She is a milking cow and her milk is being shipped for human consumption. Since her injury, she is only making about 15 pounds a day (just shy of four gallons, a far cry from the 86 pounds a day she was making before! Mixed in with the other 5,000 pounds of milk we ship daily, her milk doesn’t amount to much at the moment.

Still, we have to be careful what medications we use on her, so as not to contaminate her milk. We can give her an anti-inflammatory safely, so we are doing that. I also rub her leg with a peppermint oil rub, sort of like Icy-Hot. Because it is topical, we don’t have to worry about it contaminating the milk, so it has become our go-to treatment for everything from bumps and bruises to a first course of treatment for mastitis (an infection of the mammary glands). I love to rub the cows down with this stuff! It smells great to me and, sometimes I think just having the extra attention boosts the girls enough they get over their ailments. Who doesn’t love a little “poor baby” treatment when they feel bad?

Man, where’s my mint rub?

It would seem Opal’s swelling is beginning to go down. My dad is watching her with his ever-scrutinizing eye, continually. She is still uncomfortable, and she misses her sister, Onyx. And Onyx misses her! The first day they were separated, Onyx spent the entire afternoon shift mooing to Opal. She looks into Opal’s empty stall, then looks to me with those petal soft, questioning eyes. Every chance I get; I walk in the empty stall and scrub Onyx’s head and neck. “What is it, baby? I know, you miss your sister! But she’ll be better soon and you’ll have her back, promise!” They are so sweet! I’m sure people don’t think cows communicate; but we see it every day.

Of the twins, Opal is the more timid of the two. She doesn’t usually let me love on her as Onyx does. But she is in pain and she realizes we are trying to help her. At the end of my afternoon shift, I give her some extra hay. Hay seems to be THE miracle feed for cows! Extra hay to a cow must be equal to dark chocolate for a human, suddenly a timid cow is VERY happy to see you! Calf grain has a similar effect, but nutritionally isn’t as useful to a grown cow as hay. Not only do they love the hay, but it really seems to perk them up when they are sick with anything from a stomach ailment - to a swollen leg. After only a few days, Opal has come to watch for me and the hay I will bring her at the end of my shift. There are few things I like better than a spoiled cow!

This may end up being a win-win! Opal gets better, and returns to her sister healthy, strong, and a little more outgoing. If you’re going to make it in farming, you have to have a positive attitude. There is NO thought of Opal not recovering!

This is Me

With the exception of weekends and vacation days, I get up at 6 AM (ok, the alarm goes off at 6, I get up at 6:30), put my children on their respective school buses at 7 and 11, clean my house a little, and go off to work. Once I am there, I am greeted by 64 beautiful black and white faces, as well as a host of babies ranging in age from newborn to about six months old. I turn on the wash cycle, then return to those faces to clean their platforms and get my shift in their home going.

I work at my family dairy farm, and it is the best job I have ever had! I have been a news reporter, copy editor and graphic designer. I still do some of that. But the best part of my day comes when I lace up my work boots, walk across a field to the farm, and shovel – yeah, THAT stuff.

The farm I go to six days a week is about 30 years old; but my family has been a part of the dairy industry for four generations! One of the great parts of being there is watching the fifth generation growing up, and into, this legacy. Between my brother’s family and mine, there are seven children, ranging in age from 21 years to four months old. Four of them show interest in the various areas of the farm. It is my fervent hope there will still be a farm for them to carry forward by the time my brother and I would be ready to pass it to them.

Our farm is quite small. We milk 64 cows. It is a tie stall operation, which means each cow has her own stall. They are let out into a pasture every morning for exercise while their stalls are cleaned and the bedding replaced. Interestingly, we bed them mainly with shredded paper! We get local newspapers, magazines, phone books and other recyclable paper; and my dad shreds it up in a bale shredder, which then blows the paper into the stalls. It is cleaner and much less dusty than sawdust, and more absorbent than straw. It is also endlessly amusing to smell the scent of perfume samples and find pieces of Maxim models under our girls! Cows have laid (and pooped!) on Heidi Klum…

Each cow has her own name. Typically her name starts with the same first initial as her mother. That way we can trace her family history in our minds while we are working. Our cows are registered, which means they have an official pedigree (like an AKC dog or thoroughbred horse). Some of our cows have a richer family history than we do! We not only know who their parents, grandparents and on were; we also know how much milk they made, the quality of the animal itself and the quality of the milk!

The cows are very used to their routine. Most know their names and which stall in the barn is theirs. It changes from time to time. Each cow has a little “vacation”, the time varies but is ideally around two months, where she is turned out to pasture and doesn’t milk. This happens just before she is about to have a calf. Once she calves, her milk returns and she goes back into the barn. Sometimes her stall is changed; but they usually catch on to their new digs quickly.

Like people, cows have different personalities and levels of intelligence. We have favorites, and not so favorites. We have good days, and bad. But everyone who works at our farm is there because they want to be. Because we love what we do. Because we realize it is an honor and a privilege to work as a family, side by side. Because we take pride in creating a high quality food product for the people in this country.

Well, we used to. The sentiment around the farm is changing. It’s not just an economical issue. It’s this growing feeling that the people in this country do not support us. The negativity and criticism about how we care for our animals and produce our milk. The age-old stigma that farmers are stupid and boring. The weight of this farm will soon be passed to the shoulders of my generation, and we are wondering if we want it. Not because we mind the work, not because we don’t enjoy what we do; but because we wonder if we will be the generation to watch government and society destroy the very thing that four generations of us have put our life’s blood into culturing, nurturing and improving. Who would want to watch that?

I think I will set all that aside for today. It is time to milk the cows. If you are interested, I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.