[Diana in Wisconsin]

“I’ve had as much as eighteen year old cheddar.”

Jealous! When Beau and I were dating, he bought me 7-year aged cheddar - I thought I had died and gone to heaven and that I’d better hitch my wagon to this Farm Boy immediately, LOL!

He also bought me my own splitting maul (his was way too heavy for me) and a $37 dollar 7-pound organic chicken (we treated it like a Turkey for Christmas Dinner) and he took me to a farm that showed us how to make yarn from the sheep shearing to the final roving and spinning. Wow! Now THAT is a DATE to turn a girl’s head! (Well, a Country Girl. A City Girl would’ve bailed well beforehand, LOL!)

He STILL won’t let me get a milk cow, though. Having grown up on a dairy farm he INSISTS that he is, ‘saving me from myself’ - which he probably is. ;)

But, Dang! I still want a milk cow! Even just a mini-Jersey or two! I could make my own cheese and butter. How awesome would that be?

*SIGH*

[combat_boots]

As a kid, I was sent to a relative’s farm when my mom was ill. I got to watch some hand milking, complete with directing some toward a kitten. The kitten liked it.

[umbagi]

I grew up on a cattle ranch. We raised Herefords, but always had two Guernseys for milk. Raw milk with the cream stirred in, heavy cream on my Grape Nuts, still my favorite.

I loved having those cows — until my hands got big enough to be the one down there in the dark getting two gallons from each of them before I let the calves in, seven days a week.