Back into the swing of things

Good morning Linda,

I am so happy to hear from you.  You know, I was having just an okay-ish day: that cow that I am milking kicked over my bucket of milk and then, to add insult to injury, stepped into the bucket.  I tried not to cry, you now how that goes...  But now, my day is much happier as I have this little note from you!

About my cow (I've been meaning to blog about this, do you mind if I simply post this letter?):  when I was a kid we exclusively drank whole, unpasteurized milk and I would say that it served us pretty well.   (After my dad sold the cows, my mother continued to buy whole milk, but only for a short time; she insisted on telling everyone "there must be too many hormones in whole milk from the store, because Carrie and Richard have been breaking out like crazy."  No, Mom, stop talking about our acne, we're just in high school and junior high and we're greasy.)  Anyway, now there is this "raw milk" craze, and because I am generally hip and in love with dairy I thought I would just milk a cow.  (Also, with the price of milk these days, I can't afford not to get a cow.  Further, I'm trying to make sure that Henry and the twins never have to drink "a dead white liquid.")  

My Dad's current infatuation with the
singer Adele has resulted in this namesake
as a tribute.  She seems super nice.  

I've been gently hounding my dad about this for a while, and he has been gently resisting, likely because he knew better than I the work involved with this ridiculous enterprise.  But while we were in California, one of his heifers (the one he insisted was the most gentle) had a calf, and after we returned we headed out to the field with a halter and a brush.  The cow was still producing colostrum, so we weren't milking her, but I spent thirty minutes brushing and grooming her.  Another cow had a calf that evening, reminding my dad that my cow wasn't the most gentle one, but the latest new mother was.  So we chased that one around, haltered her, and then I spent the evening getting to know her by brushing and grooming her.  This went on for a couple of days, after which my dad remembered that the really gentle heifer was having a calf that evening.  So, I'm on cow three, and she seems okay, except for the aforementioned antics with the milk pail and the two giant horns sticking out of her head.  No matter how gentle, those horns are pretty unnerving.  

Morning and night, now, I've been heading for my parents' to milk my cow.  People say to me "by hand?" with great  incredulousness.  And I say "of course, it's not like people haven't been milking cows by hand for centuries."  Fortunately, my dad and the calf milk most of the cow while I struggle and struggle.  (At this time, I'd really like to get my hands on some sculling oars, because they'd be like little twigs in my incredible grip, and because I'm so slow on land.)  We're milking into a 5 quart bucket, so except for this morning, we're bringing in two and a half gallons a day.  We've got every milk, juice, and snapple bottle filled with milk, and you know, it is just so delicious.  The most wonderful thing in the world, I think, is a bowl of rice chex, with honey and raw milk.  

Drink baby drink!

This is all very idealic, you know, and far better than the sheep project that I once considered pursuing.  (You can't eat wool, after all.)  What I would really like to do is bring the cow and her calf back to my house (with the price of gas these days, you can't afford not to get a cow), but that would require my dad to come to my house twice a day to help me, as I'm simply not strong enough, (and the cow is not patient enough), to milk the cow on my own.  So, to keep this project going, I think that I'm going to need to step forward in time and buy a milking machine.  And then I think I'll need to buy a whole bunch of glass jars, because we'll just be silly with milk!  From what I've been reading, you can make most any dairy product by taking milk and leaving it on the counter over night.  You want cheese, just add enzymes.  You want yogurt, just add cultures.  You want sour cream, just leave it on the counter.  Likely this will require some perfecting, but it is more or less my plan.  Also, we've got a thriving kale crop in the garden, so pretty soon that will be all we'll eat: kale and dairy.  (Oh, and eggs!)

Other news around Boone: Josh is well, he was accepted to a master's of biotechnology program at UW, my mother is distraught this morning because she fears the repercussions of the unsuccessful Wisconsin recall election, specifically in how state governments around the country will begin to treat educators, and Henry is just the best, he has five teeth and can crawl and climb.  When we take him places where there are other children, he yells at them, I think because he wants to play with them.  We ran a race last weekend, and Henry taunted everyone we passed; I was so proud.  Sometimes I worry that he is clingy.  Actually, I don't worry, he's a baby and he loves his mother, this doesn't bother me at all.  What does bother me is when some people have commented on it.  I tell them, "he's a baby and he loves his mother, would you prefer he have an attachment disorder and become a juvenile delinquent?"    

Oh, and I have a clothes line.  So that's that, and I must go, because my sore hands are starting to cramp on this key board. 

Thank you for thinking of me Linda, I hope that you are having a very pleasant June.  Congratulations on the successes of your team this spring and of all the young men you taught to row so well and who all love you so!  

Sincerely,

Carrie