Sometimes I Know Things

Milking this morning, milking last night, milking each morning and night since last July, milking each morning since April I think it was, milking this morning I was thinking what a good thing it is for me to have these daily tasks. Doing them keeps me from sliding in to some state of paranoia, from seeing things that aren’t there, imaginings. Or depression. Or all the other possible diagnoses/maladies.

And keeps me healthy physically. And provides our family with lots of healthy food in so many ways. But that is almost beside the point. Which now I can’t remember what the point is exactly.

But it was what I was thinking listening to the squirtsquirtsquirt of the milk into the stainless steel bucket, as I smelled the earthy pungent cow smell, as I laughed as the donkey and goats fought friendly-wise over the handful of corn I put out for them, as I admired my big pretty boy horse licking his mineral block, as a bump to the side of the milking shed sent light as fluff snow drifting down from the tarp, as the chickens sang their good morning song still cooped up in the safety of their coop, as the FeeGrey kitten batted at his imaginings beside me, as even more dishes piled up as my family ate a pancake breakfast warm inside, as not a single plane buzzed overhead but the sun shone brilliantly down anyway.