The Murky Swamp that Sucked at my Barn Boots.
Good morning from sunny Maine–here at Two Echo it’s another beautiful day in paradise. Yesterday I learned the history of our community name. Two Echo used to be a prominent farm. In the 1950s and 60s, Two Echo Dairy Farm provided milk to the local schools, hospital, and businesses. That explains why this place feels so familiar when I take my walks past meadows and woods. It’s farmland, and I know all about that.
During the summers when I was in college, I lived at home and worked both on the farm and at the local Grand Union. At the farm, one of my jobs was to get up at 4:45 AM (just past dark) and fetch the cows in the pasture across from our house. I’d gather all 45 of them and herd them through the wide doors at one end of the barn. Dad stayed in front of them, guiding them each to a station, where we eventually hooked them up. On lucky days, when I fetched the cows, I didn’t have to cross the murky swamp that sucked at my barn boots. On even better days, the sunrise was brilliant. I got to see the earth at its really good moments.
Dad and I worked companionably, with his trusty radio giving us music and local news. Once the cows were milked and delivered to another pasture down the road, I washed the buckets–all the pails and machines that had been used for milking. To make the monotony of the job and the time go faster, I made up stories and characters aloud, continuing their saga from morning to morning. This job was hard on the hands but wonderful for the imagination. Yet I could have never imagined my future life from that stark little milk room.
I leave you with this: I worked on my book this morning, writing another half-chapter. It’s coming along. Check back next week for another segment of Finding Home.
Lisa
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