Have you ever seen a curious Amish?
Usually Amish are quite reserved. And they would never pry into your business. But the other day I got my Amish neighbors to raise their eyebrows with a simple request as I paid them for that week’s milk…
“Let me know when the cows go out on your spring pasture – I’ve been wanting to try something with grass fed milk!”
I admit to stringing them out, ’cause I didn’t tell them WHAT I was going to do. They already know I make kefir, buttermilk, sour cream, yogurt, butter, and icecream. I feel sorry if I gave them a sleepless night wondering what else their crazy English neighbor was going to do with their milk. But I couldn’t help it. I like me a good cliff-hanger.
Finally, last week, as I was fetching our weekly three gallons from the bulk tank, The Farmer peeked into the barn just to let me know that “the cows had been put out to pasture that week, so…”
Then he hung around waiting. I was kind and didn’t draw it out any longer. I told him I was going to try the Milk Cure.
After my explanation, he went off to finish his chores, and next thing you know, The Farmer’s Son came into the barn, just to let me know that “the cows had been put on pasture that week, so…”
I put him out of his misery by explaining the Milk Cure. Then they finally left me alone so I could concentrate on operating the spigot on the milk tank so I didn’t spill 500 gallons of milk all over the dairy floor.
This week, as I was once again crouched on the floor of the dairy, duking it out with the finicky spigot, The Farmer’s Wife and the Farmer’s little daughter walked all the way from the house to the barn just to say hi (never happens) and…to see what I was doing with this week’s milk.
I told them about the Milk Cure, too. But I think I’ll wait till tomorrow to give you the scoop, ’cause I don’t think it’s fair that the Amish should be the only one’s losing sleep about this thing.
And…I’m gonna go drink a glass of milk. (Do you hate me?)