When it was hot, we all stood in the evening at the wayside, looked out over the pastures and waited for the tractor. It came and forked the hay, quickly and freely, in stacks and loops in the evening sun.
We live in bungalows at campsites. We have elegant panorama windows and Thomas cooks fine meals in the evenings.
I stood on the pasture by Henk and Aly Waterink and fought with the wind. At lunchtime Henk brought me a picnic and I drank milk for the first time in 25 years. Cows produce the most milk when they are eight years old, and they are slaughtered at the age of twelve. Henk and Thomas are sitting at the computer. I am engrossed in the painting of skies and wait for beautiful light. We drink coffee when we say goodbye and return to the milking carousel one last time. It is cool and damp. The children come along for a ride. Henk and his mother work together like two people who have been doing that for a long, long time.