30 Dec Shoveling Gutters, Long Ago

One winter when I was milking alone at the lower farm, Bette’s barn, there was no gutter cleaner. A barnfull of Holsteins, plus the ell, a lot of manure and bedding to be shoveled out twice a day. There was a wheelbarrow, a shovel, and me. There was a door out the back side of the barn, and each load was wheeled out and dumped, increasing the height of the pile each day. Simple enough, but remembering this icy morning, there were many details to pay attention to, as with all jobs. Am I the only one who habitually tries to put more on one load- whether it be groceries from the car, firewood in my arms, or in this case, manure piled high on the wheelbarrow? Surely just one more shovelful! But then, can you really manage it? The frosty door was swung open, the heat from the cows making a billow of steam, and out I pushed, not tentatively, but with great effort to press over the little gap between the barn and the first plank. Plank? Yes, as the pile was built, planks were laid down, making a narrow road on top of the pile. The goal was that this road always inclined slightly up, as you know, or can imagine, the speed of pushing, no, now trying to hold onto that full, tippy, heavy wheelbarrow, if headed downhill. So out to the ever lengthening end of the planks, and one final effort to upend the handles of the wheelbarrow, successfully dumping the load down over the pile. It was high. It was often dark, and cold and windy out there. Repeat times I can’t remember how many loads each morning and again each night. Then at the end of the final load, taking a pitchfork to level out the pile, and the shovel to scrape clean the planks. If neglected, pushing over the frozen lumps the next choretime out would be so difficult, you would never forget. I remember.

That finished, it was time for bedding, which that winter was green(meaning wet) sawdust that was dumped by the truckload into a bay of the barn. No lights in there, either, just a pick ax to chunk off great boulders of frozen sawdust, wrestle them into the wheelbarrow and dump them in the alleyway behind the cows to thaw. There was some humor as I kept two pair of geese in there sometimes until the milk truck driver refused to put up with their attacks on his pant legs. There was no more satisfied feeling than to look down the length of the barn, perfectly clean and sweet smelling, when I finished casting shovelfuls of bright, clean bedding under each cow and along the walkway.