By John R. Greenwood
View from the Gulley Milkhouse
There was a time when fear ran my life; fear of change, fear of the unknown. Now as I approach the latter portion of my life I can't get enough of it. Today I completed a mission I began over a year ago. It was at that time I had been out on the road with one of my bulk milk drivers picking up milk from local farms.
On that morning I had the pleasure of meeting the owners of one of those farms. Their names were Ed and Carol Gulley. The first time I visited their farm I was taken in by the glass head pictured at the top of the post. Ed and Carol have various antiques and oddities decorating the buildings on their property. At the time I really just wanted a photo of the glass head. My second visit found me trying to muster the courage to ask if it might be for sale. By my third and most recent visit I had made up my mind that the face of glass was going home with me. Farmers are busy people. They don't have time for nonsense. I was hesitant to disrupt the flow of the Gulley's daily routine. When we arrived the other day I kept a watchful eye for Ed or Carol. I made up my mind that I would simply go for the gold and get right to the point with the first one I saw. The problem is you don't always see them. They have more to do than worry about the driver picking up their milk. The farmer has his job to do, the driver has his. The Gulley's dogs were clearly audible out back. Ed or Carol couldn't be too far away. The milk was almost all pumped out and I was running out of time. A few minutes later I heard Carol talking to the dogs. I quickly went outside and said hello. I told her I was glad to be back and how nice it was to see her again. Right now though I needed to get down to business. "Carol," I said, "would you consider selling the glass head in the milk house window? I have wanted to ask that question since the first time I saw it."
She smiled like I might have more dollars than sense. In actuality she smiled because she knew the feeling. It was evident by Ed and Carols collection that they suffered from the same picker-syndrome that I did. Carol graciously offered to find Ed to see what his thoughts were.
When we finally had everyone together the bargaining began. It was fun to dicker back and forth. We finally struck a deal, shook hands, and I took possession of my new friend. It was one of those have-to experiences that you can't explain you simply go with it.
When I placed my new friend in the crook of my arm I looked at Ed and Carol and with great courage I blurted out,"I was wondering where the derby went that was on his head the last time I was here? I was hoping that might be for sale too? With the seriousness of a doctor giving you bad news but with a slight twinkle of the eye, Ed replied,"The goat ate it."
Ah, life on a farm. Ain't it a hoot?
Wearing his new wool hat, C. Klearlee checks out the scenery in his new home at The Greenwood's