“Shhh!” I hiss, and my eyes flick toward the staircase. “Don’t you dare let him hear you say that. I’ll never live it down.”
“Is he here?” she whispers.
“Let’s go for a walk,” I say. It would be rude of me to kiss and tell. But Violet’s highest talent in life is information extraction.
“Can I pet a goat?” Violet asks.
“Sure.”
“A cow?”
“Absofuckinglutely. Let me take these pies out of the oven and we’ll go.”
Outside, I introduce Violet to Jacquie and Jill, my brother’s dairy goats. And then I walk her past the cows in the meadow, and past the mobile chicken coop.
“Oh, they love you!” Violet coos when the hens come running.
“No, they love treats,” I clarify. “Usually I have sunflower seeds in my pockets if I need them to move from one spot to another.”
“Well, it’s good to see you haven’t changed.” Violet rolls her eyes.
“What?”
“So quick to brush off any praise. Is it so hard to believe that chickens love you?”
“Please,” I snort. “Let’s find you some sunflower seeds so you can become their favorite human, too.”
The minute I pull out the bucket, the clucking grows louder. We each take a handful and I instruct Violet to be stingy with her love for a couple of minutes while I move the flexi-fence, post by post, to a fresh bit of the meadow. “Just watch where you step,” I say. “You don’t want chicken poo on those sandals.”
She has a fine time tossing seeds while I shift their habitat. And then we toss the rest, all at once, creating a feeding frenzy.
“Okay, fine,” she admits as we cross the grass toward the orchard. “So they’d like Genghis Khan if he had treats. Doesn’t make you any less lovable.”
“Thanks, babe.” I walk her past the cider house, toward the orchard.
“Look at all the little green apples! There must be millions of them. Is this a good year?”
“So far.” I mentally knock wood. “It’s been a little dry, but nice and sunny. It’s only July, though. A lot can go wrong before October. One bad hailstorm can ruin a whole crop. There are diseases. Pests. Any number of problems. At one point or another, we’ve had them all.”
Violet flips me a sideways glance. “And you wonder why I think you’re a pessimist.”
“Farming is literally the riskiest job in the world. There’s a reason I’m not going into the family business.”
“I just like to bust your balls. Besides—the sky is starting to look like the beginning of The Wizard of Oz.”
She isn’t wrong. Suddenly it’s as dark as a solar eclipse. “My mom said it was going to rain this afternoon.”
But Violet has already forgotten the weather. “Ooh! Look at the nice little moos!” She takes off at a trot toward the fenced area where the calves are kept. “So cute!"
I don’t explain that these are the last of the boys, and that they don’t have long to live. We give them a great few months on grass and milk. But then they’re off to the butcher, where they’ll become ethical veal on a restaurant menu.
There's a rumble of thunder, followed by a strong breeze that makes the grass whispery.
“Uh-oh,” Violet says, looking at the sky. And a calf bleats in agreement.
“I think we're about to get wet,” I say, just as the first fat drops begin to hit the earth around us. “Come on!”
Violet and I make a dash for the tractor shed. Raindrops pepper my still-damp hair. We just make it inside when a drenching shower begins to beat down onto the grass.
“Wow,” Violet says, twirling around in front of the open doors. “That’s impressive. Can I climb on the tractor?"
“Knock yourself out."
She steps up, seating herself on the Kubota. “This is my color." She pats the orange body. “Choosing a tractor to suit your skin tone is a totally rational thing, right?”
“Totally. Although you’d also look nice in John Deere green," I tease her.
She tosses her hair. “That’s my evening tractor.”
“Cool, cool. So where is this cabin your brother rented?" I have a vague memory of Violet mentioning a possible trip to Vermont. But I never expected her to surprise me.
"It's not far. It's really more of a house, at this place called Green Rocks.”
“Oh, I know where that is." It’s an enclave of summer rentals.
"Tomorrow he and his wife are going hiking with Dave and Zara. Can I hang out with you instead?"
"Sure you can. I’ll take a day off. You could stay here tonight, actually."