Last night I was feeling rather persnickety, probably as a result of being in the house all day without any human contact other than young children, so I took it upon myself to go visit Nightingale as she finished up with her milking. She was joyfully taken aback, as my visits to the barn are rare.
"Well, hello!" She said, all smiles.
Though Nightingale would adamantly disagree, I find she is the most beautiful when she is out in the barn - boots covered in mud and manure, iodine stained jeans, and hair swept messily into a ponytail. I imagine it is because she radiates a certain calmness - she is fully in the moment, not thinking of anything else except taking care of her Holsteins.
I presented flower-shaped chocolates, wrapped in shiny green foil.
"Oh, yum! But you have to have one too." Nightingale is the most delightful to give treats to, because she enjoys them so much, whether it be homemade enchiladas, eclairs or beef lo mein.
We must have been a sight, standing in the barn between the two rows of cows, nibbling on our chocolates. I always am somehow dressed inappropriately for my visits - that night it was a black short coat with fur collar and chandelier paper mache earrings. When am I going to finally admit to the fact that I no longer live in New York?
"So, how are you today?" she asked.
"I'm feeling persnickety."
"Any particular reason?"
"I don't know." And then we talked about the possible reason for my persnicketiness.
At one point I heard a great rush of water, and I thought some sort of pipe line had broken, but it turned out to be merely a cow dispelling fluid.
"My goodness - did he just go to the bathroom?" I asked.
"Yes, she just did," she laughed out.
Yes, of course, when was the last time someone was able to milk a male Holstein? Obviously, I need some reeducation on the facts of life, but when I left that night, I was no longer persnickety. In fact, I was quite exuberant. I saw Nightingale, and I was able to laugh at myself.
"Well, hello!" She said, all smiles.
Though Nightingale would adamantly disagree, I find she is the most beautiful when she is out in the barn - boots covered in mud and manure, iodine stained jeans, and hair swept messily into a ponytail. I imagine it is because she radiates a certain calmness - she is fully in the moment, not thinking of anything else except taking care of her Holsteins.
I presented flower-shaped chocolates, wrapped in shiny green foil.
"Oh, yum! But you have to have one too." Nightingale is the most delightful to give treats to, because she enjoys them so much, whether it be homemade enchiladas, eclairs or beef lo mein.
We must have been a sight, standing in the barn between the two rows of cows, nibbling on our chocolates. I always am somehow dressed inappropriately for my visits - that night it was a black short coat with fur collar and chandelier paper mache earrings. When am I going to finally admit to the fact that I no longer live in New York?
"So, how are you today?" she asked.
"I'm feeling persnickety."
"Any particular reason?"
"I don't know." And then we talked about the possible reason for my persnicketiness.
At one point I heard a great rush of water, and I thought some sort of pipe line had broken, but it turned out to be merely a cow dispelling fluid.
"My goodness - did he just go to the bathroom?" I asked.
"Yes, she just did," she laughed out.
Yes, of course, when was the last time someone was able to milk a male Holstein? Obviously, I need some reeducation on the facts of life, but when I left that night, I was no longer persnickety. In fact, I was quite exuberant. I saw Nightingale, and I was able to laugh at myself.
1 comment:
Katja! So wonderful to see you blogging. I am not really a blogger, but I am an eager reader of those!
By the way, could I have your e-mail?
(veroniquette@gmail.com)
Veronika
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