One of the really pleasant aspects of being cattle ranchers (well, we do have two head) is having parents and grandparents come by with their children to see and feed the large ladies. 

Our big bovine beauties certainly relish these visits.

One very nice lady sent us some photos of her two granddaughters feeding cow shucks to “your beloved Gladys and Babe. What fun the girls had!”

In her note was the following:

“Back in the late 1950s we had a family cow named Goldie. She was a Golden Guernsey and we all loved our cow!

“My mother strained the milk, made our butter (I still have 2 butter molds that she used), made buttermilk, whipped cream, and of course there was always a pitcher of  ‘sweet milk’ in the fridge. We used to call it sweet milk. The blue pitcher was for sweet milk and the gray pitcher was for buttermilk.

“Mama made my summer shorts and tops out of the bags that

Goldie’s food came in. ‘Feed bag clothes.’

“One night during a terrible storm lightning struck the barn and it burned like crazy and Goldie died that night. Daddy cried, Mama cried, and so did I. She was the last cow we ever had.

“I remember sitting beside my Daddy while he milked the cow. Sometimes he would squirt some milk into my mouth, and I would laugh and wipe off my face.

“Those are some of the best memories of my childhood. Daddy and Mama died when I was 16 so I do cherish those memories so much.

“Just sharing some ‘cow memories’ with two people who love their cows.”

Now, I am able to share this poignant piece with you through this column. But I don’t think I could tell it to you.

You see, I probably couldn’t get all the way through it.

You know what I mean, don’t you?

APROPOS — “Sad, indeed, it is for those for whom there are no sweet and tender memories to summon.” — A. Fitzgerald