coffee shop tabletop in Jackson, Mississippi

Hello friends! On Tuesday, the kids and I arrived back from a week-long civil rights learning tour of the south. I am working on a post about the trip, or maybe a series of posts. The whole experience was ovewhelming, and ever since I’ve felt at loose ends, unable to focus. How to even begin to write about it? I’ll get there, but it’s taking time. 

In the meantime! Right now I’m…

Curled up… under a fuzzy blanket because the day is cooler than I expected and I’m stupidly wearing shorts. (Yeah, yeah, I’ll go change soon.)

Reading… Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver. I wanted a fun-read to take on the trip, so I bought the book. Well. Turns out this was not the escape book I was looking for. It’s well-written, yes, and the subject matter isn’t even all that heavy (at least not yet), but what I really needed was a fast thriller I could get lost in, or a candy book (straight-up pleasure), and this book was not either of those. But it’s still good! And now once I finish it, I can loan it out to anyone who wants a turn.

Smelling… baking bread. (Is there any better smell?) I’ve been making a batch of sourdough daily — a batch is two loaves — and I often end up giving one of the loaves away. I love it when someone pops in and I just happen to have a fresh loaf on the table that I can spontaneously gift, like I did yesterday when the vet made a farm visit. And speaking of the vet, I’m . . .  

Celebrating… that Emma is pregnant! The vet confirmed what we’d hoped: girlfriend is four to five months along, and due September or October.

Marveling… at how green everything is! When we left on our trip, the trees were just beginning to bud, and when we returned they were in full leaf. It’s emerald city (country) out there. It makes my eyeballs happy.

Ordering… my fancy all-in-one moisturizer and sunblock. I apply it to my face every morning — there’s no smell and no greasy residue. It’s pricey, but two small tubes last me about a year. 

Eating… loads of asparagus and fried eggs, my trip-recuperation food of choice. Also popcorn, cheese and pretzels, and chef salads. We ate fantastic food on the trip but nothing beats the refreshing simplicity of homegrown and homemade.

Appreciating… that my husband stayed home to take care of all the animals, milk the cows, and go to work while the rest of us traveled. When I checked in with him mid-trip and asked him how he was doing, he said, “I think I’m hungry.” He sounded a little surprised, as though he was just realizing it for the first time.

Finishing (just last night)… the final show of the final season of Ted Lasso. What a show! It did my soul good.

Seriously considering… making my own mead. I took a free online class yesterday and it lit a fire under my butt. I hear that sour cherry mead is the best, and we’ve got two trees. Anybody have a 6-gallon carboy rolling around their basement that they want to off-load? (My husband thinks I should start small, but we all know that’s not my style.)

Feeling… excited and hungry for my lunch: chef salad followed by almond tea ring and a latte. Gotta go! 

xo

This same time, years previous: perimenopause: Jo, age 54, strawberry syrup, the coronavirus diaries: week 8, the quotidian (4.29.19), graduated!, besties, back to normal, the quotidian (4.29.13), Sunday somethings, something strange.

Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
everyday; ordinary; commonplace

Goodness and sunshine.

Real food.

With smoked toscano pepato.

Caraway Swiss, roasted pecan ale (ah-mazing) and pretzels = supper.

Crunch-crunch.

Swing snacks, plus a fantastic book.

Chimney visitor.

New do.

Flames.

SHUT THE DAMN GATE.

Easter Elves: the pre-opening celebration.

Idyllic.

This same time, years previous: Emma, sunshine cakes, do you fight with your spouse?, the coronavirus diaries: week 6, while we were gone, gado-gado, the quotidian (4.17.17), right now, cheesy popcorn, joining the club.

A new mama heifer is always a bit of a crapshoot. [says I, with great authority, even though this is only the second heifer cow I’ve delt with] Will she tolerate milkings? Will she let down her milk? Will she develop mastitis? How quickly will be catch the hang of the milking routine? Will she be a kicker? 

The first week with Honey was touch-and-go. We milked her 2 to 3 times a day, even though we’d often get only a cup or two of dirty milk (that ended up going to the pigs), in order to familiarize Honey with the milking process. It was a two-(sometimes three)-person job: one person leading her in and the other wacking her on the rump. 

From the start, Honey’s front left quarter was super swollen and produced almost no milk. After consulting with a couple cow-milking internet people, and one long phone call with our friendly vet, we determined that the problem was probably due to an undetected case of mastitis in the first two years of her life. Even though she wasn’t currently sick, the earlier infection meant that the quarter was damaged (and, should we get her lab tested, would probably test positive for mastitis, but the vet said that wasn’t really important since she had no other symptoms). Since it’s fairly common for cows to have a dead quarter, and not really a big deal, we simply quit milking that quarter and — problem solved.

pummel-massaging the bad quarter

Honey did not take well to the milking machine. She was tense and moderately kicky, but then, on the one day when I was at work and not able to help, she kicked the machine with both back feet so hard that one of the metal pieces flew the whole way across the shed. My husband phoned me spitting mad and sore — in the fray he’d wrenched his wrist — while my younger son, I later learned, suffered a violent case of giggles. 

That was the low point. From there, it got better — mostly because we bought a kick bar. 

Snap the bar into place on the same side the farmer squats to milk — one end hooked over the back bone and the other end jabbing up into the back leg “pit” — and the cow can’t hardly lift that leg at all. She can still kick on the other side, however, but my husband holds the milker away from that foot and I stand behind him with a big stick poised over her back side. Every time Honey makes to kick, we both bellow NO and I whack the kicking leg. Gradually, she’s accepting that we’re boss — but that kick bar isn’t coming off any time soon.

The other morning my husband and I had a spat because I wanted to go running and he wanted me to help milk. So I angrily changed my running shoes for barn boots, stomped down to the shed, whacked Honey a couple times until she got into the stall, stomped back up the house, changed back into my sneakers (huff-huff), and left for my run. When I got back, I found this note in the basket where I keep my running gloves:

It’s been nearly 3 weeks since Redbud was born, and Honey’s giving a solid two gallons of milk each morning. And some days when she’s feeling generous, she even gives chocolate milk.

This same time, years previous: Colby cheese, the quotidian (4.12.21), god will still love you, making space, beginner’s bread, the quotidian (4.11.16), when popcorn won’t pop, Mr. Tiny, deviled eggs, on fire, lemons and goat cheese.