First Frost At The Dairy

This morning the grass was white, every blade stitched with frost, and the cows breathed out clouds as they walked to the barn. The pump handle was too cold to touch. Wren sat on the fence, puffed up like a loaf, looking quite offended by winter.

First frost changes the milk, a little. It becomes richer and slightly sweeter, as if the cows are storing summer in it. We will pour our first frost milk on Friday, in blue rimmed saucers with a tiny snowflake painted on the bottom by Hollis.

Wear your warmest scarf if you visit. And bring a hot cup. Ottoline makes cocoa in a pot as big as a bathtub.