Things I learned as a farmer's wife

How to tie knots which undo with one tug, 

but not from an inquisitive beast.  How to avoid a shock 

from an electric fence with a blade of grass.  How to startle 

a crow by blowing a screech. How to hand-milk a cow, 

not be kicked, keep the milk white. How to be polite

to a Hereford bull at large and happy in the hayshed. 

How to swing a bale onto one shoulder and push 

through hungry heifers. How to let shit happen.

Where to tread in a gateway once cattle have tramped by.

How to escape a dung-smeared boiler suit without touching.

When to ring the AI (Insemination, not Intelligence). 

When to pull a live calf from its mother with ropes.  

How to lay concrete when six-months gone.  

How to laugh as countless sheep scramble through a hedge.

Where to find hammer, staples and wire after the last breakout.

Where to sleep when not in bed.  Where to shelter from sudden rain.

How not to cry in the face of a barometer fixated for weeks

on the final letter of stormy or – worse – very dry.  

Where to use a spinner or a tedder; when a buckrake is better.

Where mushrooms grow on crisp September mornings. 

When not to dish-up rice pudding for the umpteenth time. 

When cornflake sandwiches will do instead.  How to make 

explosive elderflower champagne.  When sloes are ready for gin.

Where wild plums grow.  Their bitter-sweetness.

Christian Donovan