Full Circle

They grow up so fast!

There are five seasons in Vermont, which is funny because at least half of the year is taken up with just one. There is Leaf Peeping/Fall, there is WINTER, which people who live here like to invoke as early as June in a -- partially? - joking way ("winter is coming" ), there is mud season, then black fly season, and then hay season. I have now, it seems, lived through all five and am inching back towards the starting line. Up to this point, even while my tasks and obligations have become familiar, the backdrop against which I have enacted them has been entirely novel. Now, especially in the barn, I am seeing the kids at the top of the hill, the ones that I ceaselessly posted gangly adorable videos of in March and April, bulking up. The buck, Spruce, is getting his strong, hazelnutty smell. We're feeding out our second cut hay, the Sweet Rowen it's called. The good stuff, the stuff that doesn't make you die of sneezing and that breaks off into uniform flakes when you weigh it. The girls take less time to milk out, and while milking generally takes less time, the days are getting shorter so that by the time I leave the barn, twilight has already fallen. We have another small calf that I am bottle feeding just like I did with Ruby when I started last year -- Ruby whose little rust-colored head I used to hold and who is now big and sinewy and lives in a pasture up the road and will have his date with destiny once it turns cold again. We're starting to make mixed milk cheeses, slowly transitioning from that beautiful, tart white goat milk to a mellow mixture of cow's milk and cream.

It's time for me to go. 


In my mind, I'd always planned to stay a year at Lazy Lady for just this reason -- to witness a full cycle and observe the seasonal changes both inside and outside of the cheese room. This was always the maximum amount of time I imagined for myself, mostly because I didn't know if I'd make it, so when things got hard or sad or I fucked up and doubted myself, I kept saying that I had to stay the course. And I have. 

It's no secret that I've struggled over the last few months with confidence in my skills and my capacity. I've felt by turns discouraged, defeated, frustrated and angry, but mostly upset with myself for failing Laini, this person who took a chance on me and whom I felt I let down with every mistake that I made. From the get go she was the one I wanted to be my best for. I wanted to show up for her and have her rely on me and trust me and know that I would go to the mat for her. But I always knew it was a finite thing. And now that I've found a new place to land, I've had to confront the reality that this magical, transformative experience is coming to an end. You know what they say about being the last one to leave the party. 

In October I will begin a job at Twig Farm near Middlebury. I am pumped as fuck. They make some of my favorite cheeses, and seem really on board with my desire to really deep dive into learning the cheesemaking craft. They have a herd of really sweet girls around the same size as Laini's and part of my job will still involve milking and animal care (I will get to help with disbudding and hoof clippery and stuff!) which is a huge relief, because honestly I don't think I can go back to not being around animals for the majority of my work week. I am excited to be exposed to a slightly different business model, and curious to see how another small, specialized artisanal creamery operates. There are a million reasons why this is an excellent move for me and I feel super fucking lucky and amped about it.

And yet ... my heart is a little bit breaking. Because I love Laini so so much, and our girls so much, and this weird, rugged, bizarro and desolate place so much. It really has felt like things started to shift in the last couple of months. I'm finally finding my footing, both on the farm and off, and so it's made this decision a little more complicated than it might have been at the beginning of the summer when I was just beginning to look at what else was out there. I feel not a little guilty that I'm leaving Laini before the season is technically over, and because I know first hand how long it takes for a new person to "get" how the farm functions. It's taken me almost a year. So I'm sure the prospect of training someone brand new is daunting to her. I'd been dreading telling her about it ever since I got the formal offer, but when I found myself face to face with her in the wood shed making up boxes for shipping two Sundays ago, I figured it was go time.  

I’d been pondering how to approach it, writing and revising scripts in my head, knowing that the clock was running out on when I could reasonably get away with making excuses to myself for why this wasn’t a good time, both because I wanted to give her as much notice as possible and because I dind’t want to risk her hearing about it from someone else.

“Hey Laini do you have a second?”

“Yep.”

“There’s something I have to talk to you about.”

“Yep.”

“So I know this isn’t great timing but I’ve been offered a job.”

Silence, blank stare.

“At Twig Farm.”

“OHHhhhhh,” thoughtful expression.

Here my voice got shaky and I couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or the threat of crying.

“And I’m conflicted about it because I love it here and I know there’s still a lot for me to learn and a lot I’m still learning and improving at. But I think it’s a really good opportunity for me,”

“Yep.”

“And I know it would have been easier for you if I finished out the season here,”

“Yep. Because I’m FUCKED. FUCKED.” Her eyes got wide and her bottom lip making the F sound betrayed the onset of tears.

“Well it’s October, so …Maybe I can ask Michael for a little more time but … I’m sorry, I know it’s not ideal.”

“Yep.”

“Do you want me to finish those boxes?”

“No I got em. I gotta think for a minute.”


“Ok well I’ll be back for milking.”

“Yep.”

And I turned tail. I heard her sighing despondently in the shed. I tried to act casual as I logged my hours and walked to my car, and said goodbye to Bill the cat, who was standing sentry in front of my door. But as I drove up the driveway the tears came, just as they had in the days and weeks leading up to that moment.

Luckily or unluckily, depending on your position, whatever regret or sadness Laini might have felt about me leaving was quickly undone when it was discovered that I had wrapped the wrong batch of cheese for the next day's shipping, which to be fair to myself, was a mistake that was the direct result of some really shitty lack of communication. All par for the course, and generally speaking sort of a distillation of the main obstacle I have faced since day one at LLF. I'm sure there was a part of her that felt relief that I wouldn't be screwing things up left and right. I kicked myself pretty fucking hard for that one. It felt like breaking up with someone and then noticing you had a booger hanging out of your nose during your heartfelt speech about needing other things. WHY COULDN'T I JUST FINISH OUT STRONG? 

But it's easier to be pissed than sad, so in a way it was my gift to Laini. Is what I'm telling myself.


The countdown begins now. I'm trying my best to soak up and remember all the little things that maybe I haven't noticed, or have stopped noticing now that I'm not a fresh-faced newbie at the farm anymore - like how the cheese room smells sort of sweet and yeasty when I go in to deposit the milking cans after the evening milking. Or the hilarious, cat-emblazoned "welcome" mat just outside the interior door to the bloomy cave. Or every single pair of Laini's striped socks or neon t-shirts. I want to remember everything and I know I can't and it makes me want to cry for days and days because I love this place and I've loved it and I miss it already. 

Aaaaaaaand here come the tears again.

Onward?