and more milking

I am now officially the evening milker.  Every night at 5:30 I follow the sounds of 32 or so sheep and Jitka (the cow) pattering away to have their very full udders washed, massaged, and firmly suckled on by a nursing machine.  I of course, seem to get the least amount of fuss from theses mamas.  While the men scratch their heads in puzzlement I can't help but think to myself that it is because of the nature in the massaging.  I genuinely think about how I would want to be massaged if I had udders and which methods would provoke me to produce/release my milk.  I also can't help but create some sort of correlation with my own utters....let's just call them breasts, shall we?  Yes, while it doesn't come to mind all of the time, I think every woman can admit that it feels pretty damn good to rub their own breasts (oh, ok, to have them rubbed by someone else too...) and remind themselves of all of the precious and hidden tissues and rifts.

Without going into great detail of how the process of milking sheep goes (I am sure you are all capable of putting things together), basically, we at the farm need two people to run the daily milking twice a day.  One to operate the nursing machine vaccuumy thingy (me)  and another to help get all of the sheep onto a turning mechanism that locks them into eating as they are nursed.  Generally, or so far at least, I attract a crowd of two or three extras that like to stand around and watch/smoke cigarettes/make jokes/teach me Czech etc.....  It turns into a milking party where everyone is laughing and enjoying watching tits getting sucked on by two plastic nipples while I massage them all the while.  So strange this life.  Tonight was especially fun when one boy, Petr, decided to test the waters with his English.  It was half bravery and half tipsiness.  It is his 18 birthday today and he got to enjoy it with beer in hand all day.  The nice thing about living on a farm with nice, attractive farm boys that don't speak any English is the few things they do spit out when they give it a go.  "You have a beautiful face", "I like you smile very much", and "Your butt is very good".  ALL compliments!!  Such a nice boy that Petr.  After the milking was over I thought I was going to be brought to do some more work when Aleš waved me over to join him to go on the tractor.  I assumed there was another job to be done but as he grabbed two beers out of the milk fridge and a pocket dictionary I didn't know what to expect.  My expectations, whatever they may have been, were surpassed.  Aleš drove me for about 15 minutes beyond the land that I have come to know and into the land that I could see in the distance, knew was ours, but hadn't yet been able to explore.  It was incredible.  We sat in an open John Deer tractor overlooking a beautiful scape drinking beer and speaking whatever languages we could pull out of our asses.  Aleš really just wanted to show me our other cows.  The ones we don't use for milking.....yup, that is right, meat.  Oh well.  It is life and at least I know where the meat I eat comes from and who took care of it and even who killed it.  

My true love of the farm is Josef.  We call him Pepa which means grandfather and well....he is the grandfather of the farm.  He also is the only real man on the farm as far as I am concerned and the only one that doesn't treat me like a farm boy treats an animal.  Today I was cleaning out the horse stables and he appeared with a beer (these guys always pull beer out from somewhere) and a cigarette, right when it started to down pour.  We watched the rain sweep the land and somehow managed to continue on with our book worthy romanticism.  We always find each other late at night in the yard and I have come to know him as my true friend.  We don't use many words which hasn't mattered yet, we always seem to understand each other, and when we do they are short and to the point.  Perfect.  We have started rituals; coffee, cigarettes, beer, and lots of head nods and smiles.  I am enjoying this life of being such a big part of how I survive.  Working to provide for myself, others, and the land and seeing it all around me.  From the wool that I wash and dye and spin to make yarn, to the milk that I milk and make into cheese.

I hope you are all well.  Think of me in green hills with purple suns setting in the distance.  Yes, you just heard a cow bell ring.