At first light I rise and put on my woolen socks, and shajkaca hat, stretch rubber goulashes over my shoes, and then head out to the barn. I have two cows there, but only one is currently milking. With my wide, strong hands, I expertly pull the cow’s teats, extracting enough milk for the day. After a hearty breakfast and cup of strong Turkish coffee, I head back out to the barn and begin my chores. First I scrape the old straw and manure away. Then I use a pitchfork to spread fresh bedding for my cows. The aroma of fresh straw mingles with that of the cows, a comforting, familiar scent to me in this place where I feel I belong.
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