Family on the farm.

My family derives a great deal of joy of out my placement in this farming wilderness. The Jess of old would have never set one delicate high-heeled foot into such a place. But this Jess is different. This is the Jess that fell sway to the charms of a sweet dairy man and had to make some big changes. This Jess is different but happy.

That being said, they still get a kick out of seeing me in boots.

They giggle when they think of me stepping in cow pies.

They remember a Jess who was afraid of dirt but not of rush hour traffic. A Jess who would eat any type of sushi but wouldn’t touch a rare steak. A Jess who had big dreams of big cities and was getting out of Michigan as soon as possible.

The tales of my new life provoke delighted laughter. Ironic guffaws. Incredulous snickers. A whole lot of, “I never thought I would see the day …”s. But deep at their cores, my family is happy for me.

And now they also have a farm to play on.

Two weekends ago my parents and sister came up to tour the dairy. It was a beautiful March day and my dairy man was in his element as tour guide. (Though I did have to keep reminding him to give the “kindergarten tour;” not everyone can be as passionate about the details as he!) We saw the parlor, the barns, the steers (young males), the horses, the tractor, the barn cat. For my suburban family, it was a treat. My dad let the cows lick his hands and my mom got her shoes dirty.

Understandably the cows were very curious about these city slickers:

The Dairy Man and I had a great time showing my family around our farm. I may have fabricated some of the details in my portion of the tour, but at least I now have the vernacular to SEEM knowledgeable.

Those city folk didn’t know the difference.

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