A little birdie

Tipped us off that there is most likely to be a federal rating inspector checking on all the farms in the cooperative to which we belong sometime during this week. Federal ratings are a challenge. (That is a nice way of saying horrible, nightmarish, hard as heck.) Everything must be perfect. Hah! This is a farm. Fifty cows and forty heifers and two men who never pick up after themselves conspire with muddy Mother Nature to make immaculate walls and floors and cows and properly organized shelves and suchlike things to dream about. And baling twine. What is it with that stuff anyhow? It has a life of its own. Then when we do get everything spic and span keeping it that way for a week...Arggghhh!!

So we thanked God that Liz had Saturday off and we all pitched in and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. Because I am Queen of the Pressure Washer (having worked on a dairy where I washed the whole parlor down with one every day) I did the milkhouse. Everyone else moved things and swept them and put them in the truck for the landfill. Although it was hard work, most of the job was done by Saturday night, so we were free to share the celebration of Easter yesterday with the dear folks who are giving Lizzie her internship position.

Last night it came down to getting calves out of the manger. We had a couple of them tied in front of loving new mamas who were not exactly happy to see them moved. However, calves in the manger is a major no-no, so they had to go to new locations. Holsteins are usually led on a halter.. Jerseys don't need to be. There are other ways of moving Jersey calves.

Put me down! I want to run up and down the alley

Then last night we came in to enjoy leftovers from Easter that we brought home from dinner with us. I looked up at nine to realize that Alan had not come in from the barn yet. He is often last one in as he feeds out the last hay and fills the stove nights. Still nine was too late so I booted up...my feet that is...and went out to see what was going on.

He was just turning off the lights when I got there. He had scraped and re-swept every bit of the barn walkways and spread a coating of lime on every inch...on his own...without being asked.
It looks terrific and I am grateful. And it is time to head over and milk and clean up whatever messes the cows and cats managed to make last night......

Everyone's an art critic.



I love you, mama