I Write About What I Love

By countrygirl Uncategorized 5 Comments on I Write About What I Love

I know you came here to read about writing. My advice is to write about what you love. That is what I am going to do.

Sometimes I love to milk the cow. Last night when I was out milking, I leaned against the cow’s flank. The gentle fall of the snowflakes, the warmth of the cow, and the rhythm of milking, all made me drowsy. As I leaned there with eyes half closed, I began to pity anyone who had not experienced the quiet joy of milking a cow. Milking creates such a oneness with nature. A bond with the night, and especially the cow. I glanced up to see the cow watching me, and smiled fondly. We were buddies.

Suddenly, the cow lashed out with her near foot. I grabbed for the milk bucket, and tried to leap back at the same time. Milk flew and I fell over the stool, landing on my rear. I sat there in astonishment, while the cats scrambled to lick up the milk. The cow met my accusing gaze with limpid eyes, then stuck her tongue up a nostril. “Who, me?” she seemed to say. “I would never do a thing like that.”

“You’re an idiot,” I told her, as I replaced myself on the stool. “Don’t you dare try that again.”

I began milking again rather tensely, expecting the cow to kick at any moment. She stood perfectly, chewing her cud, and I gradually relaxed. Soon my cheek was against her flank as I watched snowflakes drift down. The cats finished the spilt milk and resumed their places. Their purring mingled with the sound of milk hitting the bucket.

By the time I finished, I had forgiven the cow. I patted her shoulder as I let her out of the head gate. I would kick too if I was in her place, I thought as I waited for her to stroll back into her pen. But she didn’t turn slowly in the gate, as usual. Instead she took off at a trot toward the haystack, empty bag swinging merrily. I leaped after her with a shout, tripped on a cat, and hurdled a hay bale. As soon as I caught up, the milk cow spun around and headed back to her pen. I would have swatted her, but she knew better then to give me a chance. She trotted directly inside.

When I closed the gate, I stuck my tongue out at the cow. She just yanked out a mouthful of hay, and gazed peacefully at me as she chewed. She showed no outward sign of wickedness. I checked. She was just a cow, glad she was milked, and enjoying her hay. I smiled as I turned away.

For more stories like this one, visit Country Cowgirl.

Note: I’m new here. I want to know what you want. What did you think? What would you like to see?

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  • Damien
    Posted on March 30, 2011 at 8:05 pm

    That was amusing. I milked a cow once. It didn’t feel right. Tugging on a warm cylindrical fleshy thing. Little ick worthy! What I want to know is who discovered milking a cow and that it’s good to drink? ‘hmm if I yank on that it squirts a fluid… What does it taste like?’

    So do you have a large fully functioning farm? Or is it what us aussies call a ‘hobby farm’? Like to hear more!


  • countrygirl
    Posted on March 31, 2011 at 2:38 am

    My family has discussed the same question. And what about eggs? Who found they were good to eat? It’s an odd thought.

    We have a small farm/ranch operation. Last fall we ran 300 calves for a feedlot, but lost so much money that Dad had to sell his own cows to make up for it. My older brothers do most the farming. They have about nine cow calf pairs right now. We put up our own hay, and we have 10 horses. Dad also hauls cattle and that makes the real money.

  • Jenny Jewoss
    Posted on May 22, 2011 at 2:31 am

    Have only just discoverred this blog – I don’t visit the Newbie site as much as I always intend to – and have enjoyed reading about the work and life on your farm. Carry on!

  • Jenny Jewiss
    Posted on May 22, 2011 at 2:33 am

    Whoops – didn’t do the obligatory spell-check 2 typos!

  • countrygirl
    Posted on May 22, 2011 at 5:18 am

    Thanks, Jenny!

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