As close as she is to delivering her kids, Mae Mae has still made a point of steering herself into the milk room at every milking, even though she has no need yet to be milked. It is a surprise to me she has not made the milking room her habit this late in her pregnancies, but whatever her reasons for doing so now, it is a pleasure to see her maneuver her great bulk with such spring and spirit into her place on the milk stand.
The great size of her takes up a lot of space and so I have been leaning back against her as I milk her grandaughter Tweedle. Mae Mae doesnt seem to mind, intent as she is on her eating, and it is a comfort to lean up against so capable a mother as she. Its cozy and milking can be so dreamy, especially first thing in the morning early in the spring; its cold, Im sleepy, the days not yet begun, the seasons barely begun, but for just this moment, things are going just as I wish they would.
As the goats are peacefully eating, the rhythm of milking is my meditation and leaning against Mae Mae is my comfort. While leaning against her, I sometimes feel against my back a sharp tap, a swift kick, or a larger, more sinuous movement, and then, just as I turn my attention to savoring both the surprise and the pleasure of this, its gone and Im left with the feeling that I am at the edge of a dream and something magical Ive barely seen has vanished before Im sure that Ive seen anything at all.
Any day now....