“Well, that should certainly have worked off a good portion of our dinner,” the baron added. “Why don’t the two of you rest up a bit,” he said to Thaddeus and Matthew. “Then later, if you like, you can join me in the library. I’ll have Heidi bring us up some tea later.”

“Sounds good,” replied McCallum. “You can show me that book of the Scotsman’s you are going to lend me.”

“I’d enjoy nothing better!”

17 Old-Fashioned Farm Work

17

Old-Fashioned Farm Work

The following day, Sunday, Thaddeus McCallum awoke early. It was only just light, but he knew further sleep would be impossible. The country was proving as great a boost to his own soul as he knew it was for his son. As much as he had always enjoyed his work, he found himself feeling more energetic and invigorated than he had in years.

He rose and dressed, determined to have one last walk around the place in the quiet of the early morning.

He let himself out the front door. It was chilly and still, and the air felt tingly and fresh, not only to his lungs but to his spirit. He knew it would warm up quickly once the sun shone over the land, but for the present the nip of the morning could not have better suited his mood.

He took his way directly out from the house, about halfway down the driveway, then turned left and strode around the southwest incline of the knoll upon which the house sat, arriving at length at the western hedge of Der Frühlingsgarten, which he then followed to his right, gradually encircling the entire vast garden by way of its outside perimeter. Encountering the stream, he stopped, thought for a moment, looked about for the narrowest spot, then backed up several paces, got a running start, and leapt over it, laughing as he landed on the other side.

This place made him feel like a child again!

Continuing on his way, he skirted the edge of the pinewood on his right, discovered the bridge back across the stream, took it, and at length found himself drawing near the barns and outbuildings down the eastern slope from Lebenshaus. It was still early. There were no other evidences of work in progress. As he neared the largest of the barns, however, he heard the unmistakable moo of cows, with an occasional clank of a milking bucket acting as a metallic cymbal in the midst of the otherwise exclusively bovine symphony of sound.

Deciding to poke his head inside for a look, he headed for the open door.

“Good morning, Thaddeus!” he heard a familiar voice call out from somewhere in the darkness.

He took a few tentative steps inside, trying to adjust to the dim light.

“Is that you, Baron?” he asked.

“Yes, come in and meet my ladies.”

“You actually supervise the milking, Baron? Personally?”