Chapter Two: Morning Milking
Asa wakes at 4am, dons his warmest Carhartt overalls, and begins his daily traipse from the farmhouse to the break room. There’s no sunlight; the sky is dark, the air cold and damp. Asa brews himself a steaming cup of hot coffee and heads out towards the cows. In the barn, he finds them - affectionately termed the ‘girls’ - all lined up and ready for milking.
He opens the gate and down they trot through the dim light of the early morning. They follow the lane that leads to the milking parlor, where they file in one-by one; Fireball, as always, is the first in.
I meet Asa in the pit as he hooks the first cows up to the milking arms; the milk begins to flow and, standing there, I’m at the utter (no pun intended) height of all things cow. I see their fur, their hooves, their smiles.
We pass the time; to the rhythmic clop of the milking pump, I take pictures as Asa passes the cows through the stalls. Together, we clean the udders and wipe the teets and before we know it, the sun is up and the bulk tank full; it’s time for other morning chores.
Asa heads out towards the pigs and chickens; I head over to the creamery. Looking forward to telling you about that …