Farm Journal

“Do you know what time it is?” I ask Roger one day while we are switching a full hay wagon for an empty one during a break picking up bales. I have the tongue of the empty wagon in my hands as Roger is backing the tractor up to me.“I don’t know,” Roger says over his shoulder looking down at the tongue, “after dinner but before supper- best I can do.”“What...

“We’ve gotta have a system” Ike says with unusual vigor and exasperation. It is the middle of winter and we are in the middle of the barn in the middle of morning chores doing a middling of work. Time to meddle. “A system for what I ask suspiciously, not being familiar with this sort of energy out of Ike this early in the morning. “A system for keeping...

“One of us is tired this morning, but one of us is really tired,” I say to Roger as I walk into the milk barn at dawn. I find him standing in the manger leaning on a hayfork, oddly stationary for this time of the day when there is so much to do. “I know which one I am,” Roger replies. “When did you get back home?” I ask. “Trish and I didn’t get back until...

Roger Bromley is a dairy farmer, been so all his life. Roger’s father, Hugh, is a dairy farmer, been so all his life. They farm together, done so all of Roger’s life. Roger’s grandfather, Delos, was a dairy farmer, was so all his life. Roger’s great-grandfather, Martin, was a dairy farmer, was so all his life. Delos farmed with Martin; Hugh farmed with...

Grass--growing grass, drying grass, baled grass, chopped grass--is the engine that powers the Bromley farm. A cow turns grass into milk and manure. A framer turns milk into money and turns manure into fertilizer to grow more grass. It is a simple yet elegant cycle, repeated every day, twice a day over the years, over the decades and over the centuries. The...

“So is this what it was like when I first started coming here?” Roger straightens up between the two cows he is milking, pushes his cap back and starts to slowly shake his head. His eyes though are in full twittering delight and with great drama, between not so quiet bursts of laughter, he places a hand on my shoulder and mustering up all the solemnity he...

“Hi. This is Roger,” a voice squeaks through my phone, “What’cha do’in?” “Ahh, nothing, “ I say suspiciously, knowing that I often am but he seldom is, especially at this time of night when there are still chores to be done. “Why don’t you come on over to the barn?” “Its after dinner, Roger, I’m already in my jammies.” I fib, slouched in my chair a glass...

“Good morning, sir” I say as cheerfully as I can this early in the morning to the old man in front of me. We are standing in the cow barn, in the cross aisle that separates the old part of the barn from the really old part. Fifty Holsteins in two parallel rows stand to either side of us eating their haylege as they wait to be milked. Their chomping sounds...

1 SEPTEMBER 05 “Hugh, I bought a new pair of farm boots today.” “Oh, yeah, Whadcha get?” “Oh, just a pair of rubber boots – barn boots – for mucking and the mud.” “Like these?” he says pulling up his pant leg to show me a pair of old brown rubber boots he has probably had since the Great War. “Sorta like those, but I didn’t buy mine in Paris during the...

“Why don’t you come on over? It is something you have never seen…it’ll be interesting.” This is Roger-code for: a cow has done something really stupid and you’re not going to believe it unless you see it. That is the innocent part of the message-the first part. It is the second part, the ‘it’ll be interesting’ part that is not so innocent. ‘It’ll be...