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My parents are visiting. I showed my dad the results of my three days of milking Clover. You know, my three tablespoons of milk. All carefully preserved like museum artifacts, each tablespoon from each day, in its own little carefully sterilized jam jar. My 83-year-old father told me he’d show me how it’s done. He grew up here in Stringtown on my great-grandfather’s farm directly across the river from our farm. He started milking a cow when he was eight years old. After serving as a tail-gunner in World War II, he came back to West Virginia and graduated from West Virginia University. He bunked at the WVU dairy farm where he milked fifteen cows before breakfast. After they got done milking, the university bussed them over to their classes then back to the farm where they went to bed early to get up at four a.m. and start milking again.
That was sixty years ago. He left West Virginia and hasn’t milked anything since unless you count the stock market.
I was skeptical, to say the least, but not too proud to haul the 83-year-old man down to the milkstand and tell him to show me his stuff.
First, I got rid of these two.

I crated them up around four p.m. so that Clover would be feeling slightly more needy than she’d been feeling the past three days. There was quite a bit of plaintive bleating going on during this time. Clover and her babies don’t like to be separated. I’m not quite up to the notion of separating them for the entire night yet, but three hours was doable.
The 83-year-old man pulled up a turned-over bucket for a stool. I took Clover’s hind legs. Princess manned the camera.

And he started milking like he’d just left off at the WVU dairy farm yesterday.

Clover wanted to kick, but I held her. You know, with my big, strong muscles.

The doctor, at work.

Actually, my dad spent his life as a Church of Christ minister.

Which totally explains why he got that B.S. in Agriculture from WVU.

I was feeling like my arms were going to fall off right about now.

Clover was determined to not stand on her back feet unless she could kick them. Or sit on the pail. I had to hold her still and hold her up.

Did I have my head up her butt? I can’t remember. I LOOK LIKE I DID.

You’d think I’d remember having my head up a goat’s butt.

How come when 52 held onto Clover the day before his head wasn’t up her butt? Do you think it was because he was wearing chore boots?

Me.

Him.

NEVER MIND! Look! From left to right, Day One, Day Two, Day Three, DAY FOUR!!!!

My dad got half a jam jar out of her.

She’s got more. Eventually, I’ll get it from her. I’m really starting to believe that now.
I’m starting to believe in cheese…..
HALF A JAM JAR!!! DID YOU SEE THAT?!
Posted by Suzanne McMinn on August 14, 2008
"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
Make friends, ask questions, have fun!
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I'm a paperback writer.
by BuckeyeGirl on November 20, 2009
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by Pete on November 20, 2009
November 2009
"First it's glowing, then it's snowing! A pause, then screaming squalls and williwaws. Bright but bitter, then a thaw. Yet again it's cold and storming: What ever happened to global warming?"
Friday, Nov 20
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"Cookies are good." Read my barnyard stories....
Entire Contents © Copyright 2004-2009 SuzanneMcMinn.com. Text and photographs may not be published, broadcast, redistributed or aggregated without express permission. Thank you.
5:29
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I think 52 is just taller and a little bit stronger than you, so his head doesn’t have to be up her butt – LOL
Plus, I think you need some chore boots or those pretty green boots!
Have a great day
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REMEMBER IT WILL ALL COME OUT IN THE END….
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I hope he gave you some pointers. Now that you know it’s there, you should have no trouble getting more.
Cheering for you!!!
7:21
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Your Dad certainly hasn’t lost his touch. Do you think Clover likes being handled by a man more…ha,ha! Hopefully, your Dad can teach you that magic touch and you will have a whole jar full of future cheese soon yourself.
7:42
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the milking and farm life in general. :smile:
7:42
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Your almost there!
wootwoot good luck getting some more outta here soon
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7:53
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I think you’re right – it’s the boots. You probably should go back and get those daisy boots. :mrgreen:
You’re going to to be in the cheese very soon!!!
8:08
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Your Dad’s the man!
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8:18
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keep the kids from Clover ALL night! They’ll get plenty of milk from Mom throughout the day.)
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I’m also voting for the daisy boots. I think they hold the mojo.
Can’t wait for the next installment.
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This line made me spray my coffee everywhere….ahahaha….so great!!!!!!!! I WANT a pair of the green daisy boots…when you go back I need a size 9!
Your dad is ADORABLE!!!!!!! doesn’t matter how big you get, dad still has show his little girl how it’s done….there was no way he was going to walk away with just 1 Tablespoon of milk….nope…
Hey….and nice job on the photos princess!
Tresh in Oklahoma
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Way to go Dad!!! and Way to go Princess!! Great jobs!
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Hang in there. I’m sure Clover will decide to share more with you one day soon.
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- Suzanne, the Farmer’s Wife
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Now about that goat – offer to buy her a nice pair of heels or maybe a new purse… LOL
11:00
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No wonder we never get to see 52 – he head is up the goats ..just kidding. LOL LOL
I LOVE the farm picture of the baby on mom’s back, on the tree blocks. That is adorable. They are THE CUTEST things and I am having Coco withdrawals – I know that fluff puff is around there somewhere, getting hugs from all! :mrgreen:
11:28
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Since I know next to nothing about milking anything, I have a question: How much milk should you/do you expect to get from a single milking?
11:29
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Aren’t Dads just the BEST?!
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:flying:
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Love the last picture of your Dad with his little jar of milk!
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Mom is saying “noooo, you cannot have my milk! It’s for my babies!”.
I bet your dad is excited that you are living in Stringtown! Proud! It must make him feel good you came back to his roots! My father is deceased but would be your father’s age. He was a Fighter Pilot. :mrgreen:
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3:33
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at night in the same area that Clover is in so they can be next to each other but the babys can’t nurse? That might help reduce the fretting.
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hahaha – can you tell I’m a church secretary? *G*
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Church of Christ, eh. My former husband was a Church of Christ preacher, and my current partner is the son, grandson, and great-grandson of Pentacostal ministers. So we’re joining the Methodist church this coming Sunday. Go figure.
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this website might give you some pointers on cheese, milk and everything else.
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