Visitors Keep Asking to Read the Farmer’s Diary
MONROE, Wisconsin — Ron Gilbertson milks 118 cows twice a day on his family dairy farm southwest of town, and since a sign painter spelled the roadside sign “Diary Farm,” he has also been keeping a diary, because 212 strangers have asked to read it.
The sign stands at the end of the lane, in letters two feet tall. The mistake went unnoticed for several weeks, Gilbertson said, because everybody who lives on the road already knows what the place is. Then a woman in a minivan pulled in and asked whether this was the diary.
“I said no ma’am, it’s a dairy,” Gilbertson said. “She said, but the sign says diary. I said the sign is wrong. She said, so where’s the diary? I said there isn’t one. She looked at me like I’d been holding out on her.”
How the Dairy Farm Became a Diary Farm
Gilbertson started the diary the next morning, mostly to be polite. He bought a spiral notebook at the feed store and set it on the kitchen table. His wife, Marge, said the first entry was two lines long and the second was a page and a half.
Grammar guides such as Grammarly’s explainer on dairy versus diary note that a dairy is where milk comes from and a diary is where you keep your thoughts. Gilbertson said he has read it. “It didn’t change my mind,” he said. “The sign is working.”
The sign painter, Duane Kopecky of Kopecky Signs, has offered to repaint it for free. Gilbertson declined. “Duane’s a good man,” he said. “I’m not paying to lose forty cars a day.”
What the Diary Farm Sign Brings to a Dairy Farm
Marge Gilbertson tallied the traffic for one month on the back of a milk invoice. In that time, 1,140 cars pulled into the lane. Of those, 212 asked to read the diary, 9 asked to write in it, and 1 asked for a refund. Nobody could say what the refund was for, and Marge said she gave the man a bottle of milk to be safe.
The Gilbertsons now sell milk in glass bottles from a cooler at the end of the lane, on the honor system. Marge said sales are up. “People who come for the diary feel bad leaving empty-handed,” she said.
Diary Entries From the Dairy Farm
Gilbertson agreed to let a few entries be reproduced. They run in the order he wrote them.
Monday. Milked at 4:30. Cow 14 refused the machine. Cow 14 has opinions. Fixed the gate. Gate broke again. Forty-one cars at the sign. A woman asked if she could read this. I said it’s mostly numbers. She said she’d read it anyway.
Tuesday. Rain. Milked, fed, milked. A man from Ohio asked if this was the diary where the farmer writes about his feelings. I said I’m a dairy farmer. He said, but the sign. I said the sign is a typo. He said, then why is there a diary. I had no answer.
Wednesday. Started writing things I wouldn’t say out loud. Cow 9 is my favorite. Don’t tell the others.
Gilbertson said he regrets the last line. “Now people ask which one is Cow 9,” he said. “She’s the one by the fan. She knows.”
State Inspection Report Notes the Diary Farm Sign
A state dairy inspector visited the farm during a routine inspection and noted the sign in the report, which is a public record. The relevant comments follow.
Roadside sign reads “DIARY FARM.” Inspector notes that facility does not appear to be a diary. Inspector notes that facility does not appear to be a farm of diaries. Inspector notes that a diary does exist, on the kitchen table, and is kept current. Cooling tank temperature satisfactory. Cows content. Farmer less so. No violations.
Gilbertson said he did not know inspectors could comment on his mood. “It’s a state agency,” he said. “They can comment on anything.”
What a Real Dairy Farm Day Looks Like
For all the attention to the diary, the work on the farm has not changed. Gilbertson’s day begins before dawn and ends after dark, with two milkings, feeding, bedding, and a great deal of walking between the barn and the house. University of Wisconsin Extension publishes guidance on comfort and facility design on dairy farms, and the state’s long history with the business is laid out in the encyclopedia entry on the Wisconsin dairy industry.
Gilbertson said none of that is what visitors ask about. “They want to know how I feel,” he said. “I’ve milked cows for forty years, and nobody’s asked until a sign did.”
Neighbors React to the Diary Farm Next Door
The dairy farm down the road, run by the Lindqvist family, painted a sign of its own last week. It reads “Dairy Farm, Spelled Correctly, Diary Not Available.” Lindqvist said traffic has not changed. “People read it, nod, and drive on,” he said. “There’s no market for correct.”
Gilbertson said he is on his second notebook and has started reading entries aloud at the lane on Saturday mornings. About thirty people attend. Several bring their own chairs.
“I’m still a dairy farmer,” he said. “But I’m a diary farmer too. Don’t tell the inspector.” The inspector, reached by phone, said he already knows.
Humorous Observations on the Dairy Farm and the Diary Farm
- One letter. That’s all it took to turn a working dairy farm into a place where grown adults line up to read a man’s feelings. You’d think someone would have tried this with a church sign.
- The inspector wrote, and I quote, “farmer less so.” The State of Wisconsin looked at that man and diagnosed him in a government form. That’s the most personal thing a government has ever said to anybody.
- A man asked for a refund on a farm. A free farm. At the end of a gravel lane. What was he refunded from? The experience? The hope?
- Cow 9 is his favorite and he wrote it down. In a book. That strangers read. That cow now has more fans than my cousin’s podcast.
- Duane offered to fix the sign for free and Ron said no. That’s the first time in the history of small business a man has turned down free repairs because the mistake was making money.
Last Updated on November 5, 2026 by Alan Nafzger