At the end of our road one of our neighbors keeps a dairy farm.
When we moved here, my husband Peter said that he had never seen cleaner cows. I had no reference point for this. I had never been close to a cow to notice.
In 2002 I was working for large mental health facility in a town called Nanticoke. I was a resident counselor in a group home for adults, working on the overnight shift. In the mornings I’d drive home using the back roads, seeing along the way some farms so filthy that they seemed swallowed up in mud. And, of course, the cows were standing in mud half way up their legs. Impossible to think that they gave clean milk!
This neighbor of ours who keeps the dairy farm is magnificent. She is the strongest woman I’ve ever seen, very serious, and runs her farm immaculately. I love to watch her driving her tractor around the house and barn; the muscles in her arms bulge with strength. I think that at the end of each day, she brings in her cows and gives them each a bath.
lgmwriting 