My view from the milk stool this morning is about values. I wrote earlier this morning that I feel like I need to wear a hate shield whenever I go on Facebook these days. What I’m seeing in comments is beyond comprehension. There’s absolutely no empathy left in much of the human race. I’ve been slowly unfriending and even blocking individuals who are either the worst or attract the worst so I don’t see it.

It would be good to get rid of Facebook completely, but I use it (1) for work to keep up with what’s going on; and (2) to communicate about the wonderful world that Wally McSwain and I have created up on the hill.

Milking the goats and caring for them is work. It’s harder when it’s hot. The bulk of the work is done twice a day, every day. You can’t avoid it, well you could, but I would never let my goats go longer than 12 hours without being milked. It isn’t just milking, it’s filling up the hay rack, cleaning and refilling water buckets and of course cleaning out the barn. It’s an agrarian routine that’s been all but lost.

It’s good, honest work that yields an amazing product. Unfortunately, it’s become a very under appreciated product due to the industrialism of dairies and cheesemaking.

Cheese is an amazing thing. It’s milk’s attempt at immortality. It’s an art form really. Sure, you can make cheese from milk you buy in the supermarket using freeze-dried, commercially prepared cultures, but with the milk my goats produce. The goats who are so well cared for and (usually) loved. The care I put in them, I believe, shines through in their milk and the cheese I make from it.

I truly believe that the bulk of the problems that we’re experiencing now would be, if not eliminated, reduced completely if we were to take a few steps back to our agrarian roots. The growing of a crop, any crop, be it tomatoes or goat milk, is not appreciated these days.

There’s little work involved for the consumer now. Look at Lincolnton – three produce markets are now open. People can pick and chose where they go and pretty much when they go to get what they want. It used to be people had to go to a Saturday market to buy produce often directly from the farmer that grew it.

It seems the Lincolnton Farmers’ Market is now a thing of the past. That’s sad. It’s a loss of a tradition that’s been going on for who knows how long.

Not entirely sure where I was going with this, but it’s hurtful for this ultra sensitive person who can be a bit of a hot head to see people that I’ve associated with spewing ugliness. A little bit of kindness and compassion goes a long way in curing a sickness that is far worst than COVID.

Until later …