I spent Tues. in Cancer Care being tapped to drain the fluid from my belly, 3.8 liters, and then started my chemo treatment. For this I simply sat in an easy chair – a very comfortable chair - where I could read, watch my own TV, or just doze the time away.
I came home feeling better than I have for a long time.
*****
Our barn was one of those typical large red with white trim barns, with a the hip roof as it's main feature. Then kind of out of sight there was a lean-to in the back. We usually had a herd of about 7 – 10 cows to milk twice a day every day.
It was a ritual. The cows would gather at milk time in front of the barn mooing and eager to get in. We would open the gate and let them each find their own stall. Then as they were feeding, we would come around with a milking stool, milking each one in turn.
We’d clamp their tails to a string to keep them from hitting us with stinging blows, brushed off their udders, and cleaned the teats, set the pail on the floor and began to milk, what a beautiful sound, the first squirts of milk hitting the bottom of the pail!
Every chore time was also “show time!” for another set of farm animals. we had our very own, what would be called today our “Cirque du Soleil” - our own athletic performers - our array of cats which would often perform for us as we were milking!
The setting for this performance was In the middle of the barn, the milk station where three or four large pails hung from large nails on a two-by four beam. Whenever we finished milking a cow, we'd empty our milk into one of these pails. Over time each pail's amount of milk rose closer to the top of the pail!
During this process the cat performers would begin pacing back and forth on top of the two-by-four taking note, carefully assessing each pail's tempting level of foaming milk they loved so much.
The question of course was, when to make a move! You see there was competition! All the other five or six cats who were passing each other were also analyzing the situation! Would this be your day to shine, having maybe even just a wet paw of milk from one of the pails below you?
Then, one of them would stop and begin their first subtle move to reach the milk. The cat would crouch, the claws would come out, and they would begin moving sideways down towards the target, we tried to keep on milking!
The acrobatics, the amazing contortions, the extra-ordinary attempts were like a comedy act – resembling a high wire circus act filled with drama and mayhem, all under the warm barn lights!
What's your next move when all four legs are extended, clutching to anything wooden available? There always were many near falls, even trying to clutch a paw of nails against a swaying pail was such a shocking surprise, realizing the reality, often too late, that there would be no grip at all! Where ever they ended up, dropping to the soft straw netting on the floor or ending up on the boards blow the pails, they'd have to go back to the main beam and start again!
I’m sure if we could have trained the cats to do repeat performances, we could have sold tickets!
Did they get milk? O yes, I was the softy! Once settled on my milking stood comfortably, Ricky or one of the cats would just sit in the isle and watch me – using twitches of one kind or another begging for even just a drop of milk! So eventually I would take fire a shot of milk in their direction and the watch them desperately lick the air trying to get a drink from the stream I was squirting at them!
I made sure my father was not watching when I did this!
When we were done milking the cows, we’d carry these full pails of milk across the yard to the house, with of course the cats following us.
Inside the house we would bring the pails to the cream separator standing in the corner, right beside the big wood stove.
Never knowing what kind of debris our athletic cat performers had dropped into the milk pails - we had to make sure the milk was free of bits of straw and other possible “elements” like creepy things from the barn, so we would stretch a “cloth filter” over the top of the cream separator bowl and filter the milk. In those days if you didn’t see anything floating in the milk it was considered “clean!”
Then I would turn the crank keeping the milk separator spinning till all the cream was separated from the milk.
We kept only a small amount of cream for ourselves and used the skimmed milk for our morning cereal, and to feed the young calves. The full cream cans were then taken to the “market road” on a regular basis where a truck would pick them up and take them to town. This was a valuable steady source of cash income for our family.
I grew up doing these chores morning and evening of every day.
I am always grateful for the blessing of growing up on a farm. There were intrinsic lessons I would learn about life and responsibilities I would never have otherwise learned. Including the humor itself!
It's the simple things in life that are the real treasures.
I came home feeling better than I have for a long time.
*****
Our barn was one of those typical large red with white trim barns, with a the hip roof as it's main feature. Then kind of out of sight there was a lean-to in the back. We usually had a herd of about 7 – 10 cows to milk twice a day every day.
It was a ritual. The cows would gather at milk time in front of the barn mooing and eager to get in. We would open the gate and let them each find their own stall. Then as they were feeding, we would come around with a milking stool, milking each one in turn.
We’d clamp their tails to a string to keep them from hitting us with stinging blows, brushed off their udders, and cleaned the teats, set the pail on the floor and began to milk, what a beautiful sound, the first squirts of milk hitting the bottom of the pail!
Every chore time was also “show time!” for another set of farm animals. we had our very own, what would be called today our “Cirque du Soleil” - our own athletic performers - our array of cats which would often perform for us as we were milking!
The setting for this performance was In the middle of the barn, the milk station where three or four large pails hung from large nails on a two-by four beam. Whenever we finished milking a cow, we'd empty our milk into one of these pails. Over time each pail's amount of milk rose closer to the top of the pail!
During this process the cat performers would begin pacing back and forth on top of the two-by-four taking note, carefully assessing each pail's tempting level of foaming milk they loved so much.
The question of course was, when to make a move! You see there was competition! All the other five or six cats who were passing each other were also analyzing the situation! Would this be your day to shine, having maybe even just a wet paw of milk from one of the pails below you?
Then, one of them would stop and begin their first subtle move to reach the milk. The cat would crouch, the claws would come out, and they would begin moving sideways down towards the target, we tried to keep on milking!
The acrobatics, the amazing contortions, the extra-ordinary attempts were like a comedy act – resembling a high wire circus act filled with drama and mayhem, all under the warm barn lights!
What's your next move when all four legs are extended, clutching to anything wooden available? There always were many near falls, even trying to clutch a paw of nails against a swaying pail was such a shocking surprise, realizing the reality, often too late, that there would be no grip at all! Where ever they ended up, dropping to the soft straw netting on the floor or ending up on the boards blow the pails, they'd have to go back to the main beam and start again!
I’m sure if we could have trained the cats to do repeat performances, we could have sold tickets!
Did they get milk? O yes, I was the softy! Once settled on my milking stood comfortably, Ricky or one of the cats would just sit in the isle and watch me – using twitches of one kind or another begging for even just a drop of milk! So eventually I would take fire a shot of milk in their direction and the watch them desperately lick the air trying to get a drink from the stream I was squirting at them!
I made sure my father was not watching when I did this!
When we were done milking the cows, we’d carry these full pails of milk across the yard to the house, with of course the cats following us.
Inside the house we would bring the pails to the cream separator standing in the corner, right beside the big wood stove.
Never knowing what kind of debris our athletic cat performers had dropped into the milk pails - we had to make sure the milk was free of bits of straw and other possible “elements” like creepy things from the barn, so we would stretch a “cloth filter” over the top of the cream separator bowl and filter the milk. In those days if you didn’t see anything floating in the milk it was considered “clean!”
Then I would turn the crank keeping the milk separator spinning till all the cream was separated from the milk.
We kept only a small amount of cream for ourselves and used the skimmed milk for our morning cereal, and to feed the young calves. The full cream cans were then taken to the “market road” on a regular basis where a truck would pick them up and take them to town. This was a valuable steady source of cash income for our family.
I grew up doing these chores morning and evening of every day.
I am always grateful for the blessing of growing up on a farm. There were intrinsic lessons I would learn about life and responsibilities I would never have otherwise learned. Including the humor itself!
It's the simple things in life that are the real treasures.
“The smallest feline is a masterpiece.”
― Leonardo da Vinci
― Leonardo da Vinci
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