a few weeks ago when tom and i made the decision to start drinking raw milk we knew that seeing where the milk came from was just as important as drinking the milk itself. so we took a day to drive up to lancaster county to meet the farmers, the cows, see where it all comes together. the idea of visiting a farm is always exciting to us but we had no idea the feelings, thoughts, and insight we would walk away with that day.
because gunter and annika were away with their mom we only took harper and amelie up with us. it was a perfect day, mild weather, no clouds in the sky, so there was nothing between us and the beauty of what were about to witness. highways became roadways and city became town and town became farm country. it was obvious why some call it God’s country. a patchwork of rolling green hills sprinkled with cows, goats, chickens, pigs. simple white houses and clotheslines with pants, blue dresses, and black aprons lined up from smallest to largest and blowing in the wind. driveways with cars, driveways with buggies, all mixed together. we followed directions we’d been given and drove deeper and deeper into the country and found ourselves driving slower and slower so that we could take everything in: black and white hand painted signs that read:
-used canning jars needed
-used greeting cards needed
-chainsaw sharpening
-cold organic watermelon
-fresh mint tea and drinks
-homemade root beer
i went to take a breath and it was cut short. i was already overwhelmed. we both were and knew it because no words were exchanged. we kept driving. a woman stepping out of her front door looked up from her huge basket of peaches to watch us drive by. mailboxes with first and last names painted on the side lined the streets. every once in a while we’d pass a farm with a deceivingly cute sign with the family name painted in bright colors and the perdue logo or land-o-lakes labeled tacked on the bottom. another farm claimed by big agribusiness. luckily these were few and far between, but you could see the effect of these farms when you stopped at a crossroads and saw the signs that read:
-do not spray, organic farm.
these people and their land were victims of the nasty practices of their neighbors every time the wind blew in the wrong direction. their chickens ran freely in mobile coops or in the open fields while just next door the huge ominous barn-like, windowless structures stretched out, fans blowing loudly at one end. it was strange to see such extremely different approaches to farming.
we finally arrived at jacob and barbie’s farm. when we drove up the family was eating lunch so we waited until they were done, playing with the three dogs they had running around the property. after lunch jacob emerged from a dark building and welcomed us. he knew we were coming but things started off slowly. he no doubt was wondering what exactly we wanted to see and know and we were wondering how to ask. so we started by thanking him for letting us interfere with what was obviously a work day for them. conversation moved quickly then, and of course we talked about our families. jake and barbie had eleven children, three who of whom had married and moved out of the house. the remaining eight were home schooled and worked on the farm everyday. as time passed curiosity got the best of them and they made their way out of all sorts of spaces to get a look at us. i felt under dressed in my tank top and jeans and i felt ashamed for having shown so much skin on my arms and chest.
we stood beside one of the barns and jacob asked how many children we had. when we answered four his eyes lit up and he said:
-so you are also richly blessed.
we nodded and smiled in agreement. sometimes there are no other words needed. that i learned from tom.
we made our way out to the field where the cows were lounging in the grass. beautiful light brown jersey cows that were quite at home with us standing there staring. they continued eating, pooping, peeing, as amelie stood aghast with her mouth hanging open. harper just bounced up and down in tom’s arms:
-hoo! hoo! hoo!
there they were, the cows that lived on this farm, that ate the grass on which we were standing, that produced the rich, earthy, fatty milk that we were now drinking. there they were. it would be a few hours before we had the words to describe the significance of, for the first time in our lives, knowing where our milk came from. for a long time we have known the source of our fruit, vegetables, and meat. much of it we have even grown ourselves. but something so very common for us to drink, something we have consumed since we were children, we never even once questioned where it came from, what conditions it was produced under, what exactly our bodies were getting (or not getting) from it. things are different now.
tbc...
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