Growing up on a farm. With promite sandwiches.

There are definitely positives and negatives for a young boy growing up on a farm. The flip side of all this space to grow into is that there are always jobs to do. The cow hadn't come up for a few days. I don't worry too much because she usually has the calf on her, but I needed milk. So into the backpack The Boy went and we went looking. Gourmet dinners and playing would have to wait.

Dolores calf had wandered off with Laf, who is outside my place on the 100 acres next door with its lush kikuyu grass. That meant Dolores was really full as I hadn't milked her this morning. She needed to be milked, while mastitis is much less of an issue for me as I hand milk with a stripping action, it is not good for her to sit there all night with really full udders. And if I don't take the milk her production will drop and Laf isn't even pregnant yet. The last thing I need is my cow drying off.

That meant The Boy got a promite sandwich for dinner and a ride down to the milking bales. He sat next to me in the backpack and quite happily ate and looked at the chooks, who were cleaning up the pollard crumbs Dolores was dropping. I finished up, released Dolores from the head crush and moved her bucket into her night pen. As she backed out she spotted a promite smeared face and it must have smelled good because she started to lick The Boy clean. He wasn't fazed until I yelled to shoo the cow off which is when he decided that it was all a bit much and he'd like a cuddle please.

Not many kids would come home, walk down a hill and lead a cow back on a leash, then watch their dad hand milk and have the cow clean up their dinner with her tongue!

Crowd funding the orchard, a new way of planning and more thanks than I can articulate.

Seeing the future in the present. Fruit tree edition.