The milk tastes like the meadow smells
I pick up six litres every Saturday morning on the way back from the market. The raw milk is thick and genuinely yellow from the grass, nothing like what I was buying at the supermarket. Jaco showed me around the barn on my first visit and I left knowing the names of three cows. Twelve fractions felt like a big commitment in March; by June it felt like the most obvious thing I had ever spent money on.






