Jack was introduced to the cow barn and his duties there. First things
first, switch on the drop cleaned, shovel in the shit that missed the
drop, spread fresh bedding, make sure all the girls had feed and an
adequate supply of water. Next was milking. As the dairyman had said to
Jack while introducing him to the job, "You must have handled one of
these before, maybe not quite as large but they are basically all the
same." The udder was gently wiped with a clean cloth and the suction
cup of the milked applied. The operation was too small and old for a
separate milking parlor, so the men went from cow to cow.
Their lives developed a gentle rhythm that winter, his centered around the cows and hers around him. He wanted more for her and so worked hard to save so that in the spring she could follow her heart.
Their lives developed a gentle rhythm that winter, his centered around the cows but in fact he worked for her. He wanted more for her and so worked hard to save, so that come summer she could follow her heart. Sam was wondering if meanwhile she could get a job in Hershey, a little extra cash and a chance to get away from the ever present all pervading smell of manure. He encouraged her. It wasn't just that he could never say no to her, he delighted in whatever made her happy. He wanted to take this time to plan out their future. It was too dangerous to just stumble from one place to another as they had done. Sooner or later they were bound to commit an error that would send ripples through the time line.
Their one extravagance or necessity of life depending on how you looked at things was coffee. They took all their meals at the farmhouse but a cup or two of coffee before the early milking was her gift to him. When he got up to dress before dawn Sam made him fresh pot of coffee. Many mornings he took her back to bed, to make love while the coffee brewed and the sun came up, the cows be damned. He tried in his own quiet way to let her know how he felt but he always let her take the lead. And when she did, they had become lovers. He was such a contradiction. The inpatient, arrogant, demanding Colonel became the gentle, affectionate and tender man.
SJSJSJSJSJ
He finished the coffee and put on his hat and gloves walking toward the door. He turned back to say goodbye to her but came over to the bed sat down and gathered her in his arms and crushed her to him. He again made his way to the door and turned to look at her, winking, he told her to cover up it was cold outside and made his way through the snow to the barn.
She looked down to realize the covers had drifted down to her waist. Snuggling back down into the warmth of the bed she wondered if she loved him as much as he loved her. He could seem so stand offish at times, was it just his insecurities, and at others seemingly consumed by her. She knew how she felt but wondered if he felt that same breathlessness when he crushed her to him. Did he feel the strength go out of him yet feel amazingly invigorated by the passion that they shared. Was it passion? How do you ask someone to explain the swirl of feeling that accompanies the act of giving and receiving love when it is impossible to articulate them yourself? She smiled realizing she did know this if she would only let herself believe. The more she let herself feel instead of trying to dissect everything she realized that she was happy, oh, not totally sure of everything in her life. She had not idea what would come next, only that she was sure of one thing, she was sure of Jack O'Neill. She fell back asleep with her skin tingling with the remembrance of his hands and mouth, the strength of his arms, the gentleness of his touch. Life was sweet.
Their lives developed a gentle rhythm that winter, his centered around the cows and hers around him. He wanted more for her and so worked hard to save so that in the spring she could follow her heart.
Their lives developed a gentle rhythm that winter, his centered around the cows but in fact he worked for her. He wanted more for her and so worked hard to save, so that come summer she could follow her heart. Sam was wondering if meanwhile she could get a job in Hershey, a little extra cash and a chance to get away from the ever present all pervading smell of manure. He encouraged her. It wasn't just that he could never say no to her, he delighted in whatever made her happy. He wanted to take this time to plan out their future. It was too dangerous to just stumble from one place to another as they had done. Sooner or later they were bound to commit an error that would send ripples through the time line.
Their one extravagance or necessity of life depending on how you looked at things was coffee. They took all their meals at the farmhouse but a cup or two of coffee before the early milking was her gift to him. When he got up to dress before dawn Sam made him fresh pot of coffee. Many mornings he took her back to bed, to make love while the coffee brewed and the sun came up, the cows be damned. He tried in his own quiet way to let her know how he felt but he always let her take the lead. And when she did, they had become lovers. He was such a contradiction. The inpatient, arrogant, demanding Colonel became the gentle, affectionate and tender man.
SJSJSJSJSJ
He finished the coffee and put on his hat and gloves walking toward the door. He turned back to say goodbye to her but came over to the bed sat down and gathered her in his arms and crushed her to him. He again made his way to the door and turned to look at her, winking, he told her to cover up it was cold outside and made his way through the snow to the barn.
She looked down to realize the covers had drifted down to her waist. Snuggling back down into the warmth of the bed she wondered if she loved him as much as he loved her. He could seem so stand offish at times, was it just his insecurities, and at others seemingly consumed by her. She knew how she felt but wondered if he felt that same breathlessness when he crushed her to him. Did he feel the strength go out of him yet feel amazingly invigorated by the passion that they shared. Was it passion? How do you ask someone to explain the swirl of feeling that accompanies the act of giving and receiving love when it is impossible to articulate them yourself? She smiled realizing she did know this if she would only let herself believe. The more she let herself feel instead of trying to dissect everything she realized that she was happy, oh, not totally sure of everything in her life. She had not idea what would come next, only that she was sure of one thing, she was sure of Jack O'Neill. She fell back asleep with her skin tingling with the remembrance of his hands and mouth, the strength of his arms, the gentleness of his touch. Life was sweet.