The rainbow never sets

some ground oats and barley, fodder to improve their milk production.

When the cows were tied to their places, Helga came with her bucket and stool to milk.

"Could I try to milk a cow?" I asked tentatively. "I can show you how it's done," she said, "but I don't think you'll be able to milk the cow first time around."

I sat down on the stool, put the bucket between my knees and started to pull at the first available teat.

"You forgot to clean the udder and the teats," she said, and handed me a rag.

After they were clean I started to pull at the first two teats right in front of me. I still couldn't get any milk out, when suddenly Ñ whack Ñ I was hit by the cow's tail right into my face.

Helga laughed. "You have to tie the tail to the leg. Here is some string. And don't pull the teats like that. You have to squeeze them, beginning from the index finger down."

I tried it a second time. There was a trickle of milk coming out, but it was hard on my hands.

"That's better than nothing. You'll learn." After about a minute I gave up.

"I don't think milking cows is for me," I said and handed Helga the bucket and the stool. She just sat down and away she went, in strong rhythmic streams the milk came flowing out into the bucket.

"I must have another go some other time," I said, not wanting to appear defeated at my first attempt.

"I'll help you," she said with a broad smile, and I knew then that Helga had already accepted me.

By the time we sat down for dinner, I was hungry again, and very tired indeed. I looked at the clock and was surprised that it was already after 7 pm. I had been up on my feet for more than 13 hours, with half an hour for second breakfast, one hour for lunch, and perhaps a quarter of an hour for afternoon tea, the rest of the time working very hard. My body ached, and I was longing for my bed. As soon as dinner was over I went up to my room, this time sleeping through until Herr Hoffmeister called me again in the morning.

Herr Hoffmeister would often stay at home when we were out in the fields, doing some office work, since he was the Bürgermeister, or mayor of Kerstlingerode. There was quite a lot of paper work attached to that office.

Life on the farm was pretty monotonous. There was never much change in routine. From potato harvest we went to sugar beet harvest, the last crop before winter. After that the dung heap in front of the house was carted off to the fields, spread and ploughed under. It was steady work, but not as hard work as harvesting time. The hours became shorter. Herr Hoffmeister called me later and later in the morning, until in mid-winter I had to get up at about 7 am.

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