A milking parlor when empty holds a cold ambiance with its quieted lights, impossibly clean concrete floor, and metal equipment. The milkers and green water hose hang in silent obedience, waiting paitiently for the next required service. An air of expectancy fills the quiet room. In a few moments, the pristine materials would be mired by a wide variety of dirt and feces. But they need not fear long term effects, for the caring and diligent hands of a farmer will religiously wield a hose to wash away the muck and mire. Miticulous planning precipated the inaugural use of the parlor. A date set; plans laid carefully. It waits. More than a decade later the scene repeats, with parlor sitting silent and empty. Over the years, unattentive hands combatted the loving care of the farmer, leaving the room with signs of use; walls and floors stained, equipment lacking the new luster. The aged parlor holds an air of maturity and wisdom gained from experience. No plans for next use. Everything patiently waits.
Destruction from a natual disaster conceived the need for a new milking parlor. It was born and raised out of the ashes, as a hope for new beginning and change. At first, the dairy cows seemed to clash with the cold metal, pushing and stubbornly refusing to bend to the constraints of the gates. While the newly designed milking system ushered in speed and ease, it also brought a sense of disconnect and impersonality to the once intimate experience of a tie stall barn, where farmer and cow brushed shoulders. However, over many years of consistency and attentiveness by their owner, parlor and animals developed a working relationship, despite their stark contrast. But at introduction, beast and machine navigated the unfamiliar process together, each inexperienced. Years later, the seasoned parlor found itself playing host to a herd of displaced cows; their home reduced to ashes by a fire. After a season of rest, the parlor stretched and shook off the kinks of inactivity. The machines responded and joined the familar process eagerly, coaxed back to life by the farmer. As before, willingness of animal to contact so closely to machine required encouragement, but the experienced parlor seemed to welcome them with safety and trust. Through the years, a lone man would typically monitor the milkers and usher the cows through the system. But on these two occassions, the parlor is packed with those eager to help facilitate the process.
The complexity of sounds heard in a parlor, particularly during these two introductory milkings, symbolize the necessary collaboration betwen men and marrying of new with old throughout the process. A continual hum underlays the atmosphere eminating from the pump hauling milk from the milkers to the tank in long pipes. The periodic swoosh of air and screech occurs as the hydraulic gates are opened and closed, accompanied in perfect pattern with the hose spraying water on the concrete floor to wash away the muck. Beeps and squeaks break through the rhythmed sounds, while grunts, bellows, and moos from the beasts interrupt the patterned mechanical noises. In the background, classical music is heard from a corner stereo, creating a strangely beautiful mix between the natural and man-made.
With the last groan from the hydraulic gates the parlor stands empty again, now bearing the signs of recent use...water drips, fresh mire glistens, the machines idle quietly, and a trash can overflows with dirty papertowels. As the classical music takes predominant role in hearing senses, a lone farmer picks up a green hose and begins the ritual of spraying down the parlor. The clear water washes away the grime and filth, leaving behind the worn and matured concrete floor, walls, and milking units. Farmer and parlor shared a silent reverie, an understanding and familiarily built through many seasons of life. A sigh of relief and sense of accomplishment seems to pass between them as the teet dips are filled, trash can emptied, and milkers put to rest in their holders. It had performed well, just as the first day of operation.
As the wash cycle creates a rhythmatic and comforting sound, rocking the parlor to sleep; the lights are turned off and farmer quietly closes the door.. the classical music plays.
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