EARLY MORNING MILKING.

Early Morning Milking

The rooster on the roof crowed triumphantly, announcing the dawn to anyone who cared to listen—though most of the farm’s inhabitants already knew. Inside the old milking shed, Bill sat on his worn wooden stool, rhythmically tugging at Daisy’s teats. The gentle squirt, squirt of milk hitting the metal pail was the only sound, save for the occasional rustle of straw or the faint hum of the radio perched precariously on a shelf.

"Good girl, Daisy," Bill muttered, his voice soft and gravelly from years of early mornings. Daisy swished her tail in response, nearly knocking his cap off. He chuckled, tipping the cap forward to shield his eyes from the sunlight streaming through a crack in the roof.

Above them, the rooster flapped its wings, strutting like the king of the farmyard. "Yeah, yeah, we hear you," Bill said without looking up. The rooster squawked indignantly, as if demanding an audience for its performance.

The shed walls were a collage of years gone by—a poster for the Ellesmere A&P Show from October 1964 hung crookedly next to a calendar marked 1965, though it was clearly much later than that. Tools dangled from hooks on the walls, some so old they seemed more like relics than farm equipment.

Bill’s black cat, Shadow, wound itself around his legs, purring loudly. "You’ll have to wait for your breakfast," Bill said, nudging the cat gently with his boot. Shadow, unbothered, leapt onto the shelf and began sniffing the milk churn labeled "Daisy."

The shed smelled of hay, milk, and a faint trace of grease from the tractor outside. It was a smell Bill had grown up with, one that reminded him of his father, who had built the shed with his own hands decades ago.

The door creaked open, and Ellie, his granddaughter, peeked in. "Grandad, are you done yet? Mum says breakfast is ready!"

"Almost," Bill replied, giving Daisy’s udder a final squeeze. "Tell your mum I’ll be there in five."

Ellie stepped inside, her bright yellow boots clomping on the cobblestones. "Can I carry the milk today?"

Bill smiled, handing her the pail. "Careful now, it’s heavy."

Ellie took the pail with both hands, her small frame straining under its weight. "I can do it!" she declared, determined.

As she waddled out of the shed, Bill watched her with a smile. He glanced around the old milking shed, taking in the familiar sights and sounds. It wasn’t much, but it was home, and it was enough.

With a satisfied sigh, he stood, stretching his stiff back. Shadow meowed impatiently, jumping down to follow him out. Together, they stepped into the sunlight, leaving the rooster to guard the shed until the next milking.