Eight years ago I first came to the farm. I loved the cows! John would take me to the barn and I would name all of the calves. (I still remember the way he would smile at me!)
He had an all white cow - and she had a beautiful calf. White with black spots - she would jump and play with me, and I named her Holly. One day, Jenni and I were sitting out on the picnic table and John came up to the house. He paced back and forth and then came up to me and said, "Holly died." and then he took off for the barn again. I sat there and cried, Holly was my baby. Well, he kept Holly's mom for seven years and she never had a calf like that again. Oh, she had Lily, the naughty, naughty shorthorn calf - who loves to get out! We sold Holly's mom last year and I cried and cried some more. Well, sweet Lily gave birth to the most beautiful calf I have ever seen a few weeks ago, just like the first Holly, - and I call her "Holly, too" - she represents to me the birth of a new herd - a herd that will flourish and grow again - after a long, hard winter.