Sometimes a photo can bring me back in time to things my heart treasures. I recently looked at a photo on Jeanelle's blog of some cats drinking fresh milk in a dish and it brought back a couple of memories.
As a child we never bought milk because we were lucky enough to have fresh milk. My father raised several beef and we had at least one milk cow that provided plenty of milk not just for our large family of nine but enough to sell to the neighbors as well. Our cow was milked twice a day following calving and Dad told me once that a good milk cow could provide enough milk in a week to fill a bathtub. Of course I used to go into my daydream trance and imagine splashing around in a large tub filled with that frothy milk concoction.
The sites, smells and sounds of that time are still embedded in my memory. I can hear the sound of the first few squirts of milk hitting the bottom of the milk pail. I can hear the radio playing, calming the cow so she would let down her milk. The smell of bag balm, the sound of the cow munching her grain, the cats sitting near by waiting for the squirt of milk to fly through the air and the smell of fresh hay in our big old barn take me back to a time so much simpler. A time where the biggest worry in my life was getting my chores done so I could play, get lost in a good book, or later primp and daydream about a date.
Of course I could also go into detail about the downside of this as well. Like the smell of the fresh manure which had to be washed out of the milk area, the cat throwing up a hairball, the early morning hours and my arm muscles bulging like the incredible hulk from milking as a teen. But just in case those boys I won at arm wrestling in school read this I will refrain from embarrassing them.
I kid, I kid. I didn't arm wrestle. I just knocked them out. That's how I got a date.