Looking back, I'm amazed how open Candy was, letting me photograph her work and her life. In school, they teach you that photojournalists are supposed to be "flies on the wall." But let's get real -- who can ignore a click-click-clicking shadow following you everywhere? I'm grateful for the opportunity she gave me to make these pictures, and also for the glimpse she gave me into the hard work at a dairy farm.
The dairy barns reflected on a milk truck during an early-morning pick-up.
Candy's dad also worked on the farm. She'd gone away to college to study geology, but came back to the farm for a job.
Nursing a sick calf. I still can't bring myself to eat veal. (What do you think happens to all the boy baby cows?)
The farm included 2,000 Holsteins.
Milking was done by machine on an orderly schedule. I have to admit, I stopped drinking milk for a long time after shooting this story -- Candy doesn't drink milk either.
In Candy's shirt pocket are needles for inseminating cows.
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