I heard every creak in the house last night. The stairs crack; the floor cracks; the cows shift; the horse whinnies. Needless to say, when 7:10 rolled around this morning, I was not in a deep sleep. My getting ready consisted of changing from sweat pants to jeans, brushing my teeth, going to the bathroom, doctoring myself up with all my allergy medicines, and putting my hair up. This is a no frills kind of environment. For breakfast, I made myself a very sorry cup of tea and some toast with peanut butter. The stove I use to prepare food is over 80 years old, and I burnt one side of the toast and didn’t do anything to the other side. My tea started off as cold because I forgot to boil the water, so I dumped that water out and boiled a cup. I then attempted to add a little cold water so it wouldn’t be so hot, and the water exploded out of the faucet and caused my tea to go everywhere, so what was left was weak and cold. It was not the ideal breakfast. At eight, I put on my goo wellies, drove the red van with Peter up to the milking area and put on my goo clothes. My goo clothes are a pair of wind breaker pants I put on over my jeans and a large windbreaker jacket that goes over my t-shirt. I forgot my hat down at the house, so I had to do without it today. We hurried the cows from the field to the milking area and began the milking process. I still sprayed the anti-fungus spray on to all the udders before and after milking and assisted more in the clean up process. The entire time I was helping, I just kept thinking to myself, “Please don’t let any goo get on me. Please don’t let any goo get on me.” Luckily, none got on my body, but I can’t same the same for my clothes. Once all the cows were through, I hosed down the place with a high water pressure hose, making sure to get the walls, the floor, the railings and the middle milking area. My perception on farming has already shifted. Originally, I thought I was going to be staying in a tent here. I have my own room with a nice bed and indoor plumbing. I thought we milked all 100 cows by hand. We have a whole system that involves no milking by hand. Farming is far more advanced than I realized, and thank goodness for that. After milking, I went with Peter to the farm store to pick up food for the calves. We brought it back and fed the calves breakfast. Their feed is given to them in a little dispenser that looks like a playhouse, and the bottom of the little house has an area for them to eat out of. They also drink the cow’s milk in a contraption that holds the milk in the middle and has over 20 “udders” around it that the calves suck the milk out of. Breakfast time is quite popular for the calves. After feeding them, I rode Turbo for awhile and then ate Irish stew that lady boss made me. Peter is boss, and his wife, Mary, is lady boss. The stew didn’t look very appetizing, but I was proud of myself for branching out and trying it because it was delicious. After lunch (which they call dinner), I showered, and then Peter and I went into Portlaoise, a big city near Newtown Farm. He dropped me off, and I wandered in and out of shops for a couple hours. I tried on several dresses because I have some important events coming up (engagement pictures, showers, a bachelorette party, a honeymoon…), but nothing seemed special enough. The only thing I ended up buying was a five Euro designer sweater from a store that was going out of business. The people in Portlaoise were friendly, and the town was nice enough, but the whole place looks like it’s closing up shop. Peter said it’s looked that way since it began. On the way home, we stopped at Achaboe Abbey, which was founded in 577. It’s a beautiful castle-looking structure along the side of the road, which we stopped at to take a few pictures. I love all the history in Ireland. We then came back to the house, and I took a short nap before we left for what he said was a surprise. I hopped in the van, having no idea what sort of surprise it would be, especially when he said I needed to meet someone, but I played along anyway. We picked up Gingie – a woman from Taiwan who stays at the farm on the weekends and whom Peter met this Christmas when she came to stay with him for a few weeks. She is getting her master’s degree in biology in France and is doing the work component of her degree in Ireland. She enjoyed staying with Peter so much the first time that she decided to come back. The school where she is working is 30 minutes away, and she was living at the farm full-time, having a friend of Peter’s drive her back and forth, but he is no longer making the drive daily, so she lives in the city during the week and works at the farm on the weekend. I really enjoyed getting to know her. The three of us had a great dinner at the Abbeyleix Manor Hotel where we exchanged travel stories. I tried my first Guinness, which I didn’t really care for, and drank rose wine with my garlic chicken sandwich. I also saw a Pringles machine (comparable to a gumball machine), which I thought was awesome and enjoyed having thoughtful conversation about religion, politics and love with people from different countries and cultures.
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