I’d never have guessed that a favorite sound here would be the noise of a large heavy diesel truck laboring its way the mile-and-a-half or so to the top of the road and then jake-braking its way back down the hill three-quarters of an hour later. But since the twice-daily trip of the milk truck up to the farm resumed earlier this year, it has become, along with the newly reinstituted proprietary call of the farm’s rooster, a much-welcomed addition to the sounds of the wind, birds and furry mammals nosing around the underbrush.
The farm had been very quiet for quite a while, even prior to the death of old Mr. L. a year or so ago. His last cows had gone a couple of years before he did, seemingly with all attention needed for his own care and not enough available for the beautiful brown Guernseys who had grazed in the east-facing pastures and sheltered in the magnificent enormous slate-roofed barn L. had built decades before.
This year, Mr. L.’s family accomplished a wonderful thing – brought back people and animals, activity, noise and smells to the top of the hill – with the old L. farmhouse now lived in by a young farming couple from town, cows (and horses) on the hillsides and the milk truck laboring up the hill and lunging back down later with the fresh creamy result of their hard work (and the delicious grass of Cricket Hill) inside.