The cow jumped over the moon.
The little dog laughed to see such sport
And the dish ran away with the spoon.
We shop off the pages of a storybook, at this organic farm. The blacksmith and his wife live there. "Come any day. Let's fire up the forge." Sure we have pork. And the cows, sweet Dexters, you'll have to halter break a heifer and wait for her to grow up.
Mothers are pretty good at waiting, knowing exactly how fast they grow. This year we will spend our mornings in a field with a calf. We pour in love, learn how to handle with care, and are soon to be rewarded with fresh organic milk. A fair trade all the way over the moon. I am beyond thrilled.
So we've found a class and a job and a new way of life, all rolled into one sweet misty morning meadow. There will be days, difficult to wake. That's ok. Its just my job. I'm a dairy farmer now. And these children will know where their milk and butter and cream and cheese come from. And they will never forget the smell of the field, the fluff of the fur, the months Mama Cow needs for her calf, the circle, and the possibilities inherent in friendly open inquiry.