We go to the grocery store and pick up a box containing four sticks of butter to use for cooking and baking. It wasn’t always this easy. Not for women like my great-grandmother who lived on a farm!
The cow was milked, cream skimmed from the top and then butter was churned. It wasn’t an easy task when our great, great-grandmother churned butter. There was a rhythm to churning. I saw this on another blog called YesterYear Once More. (Check out the links below.) I don’t know about you but I am thankful for today’s convenience but it would be fun to try churning butter just once. I love singing as I work so this would be twice as fun!
THE CHURNING SONG.
Apron on and dash in hand,
O’er the old churn here I stand —
Cachug!
How the thick cream spurts and flies,
Now on shoes and now in eyes!
Cachug! Cachug!Ah! how soon I tired get!
But the butter lingers yet;
Cachug!
Aching back and weary arm,
Quite rob churning of its charm!
Cachug! Cachug!See the golden specks appear!
And the churn rings sharp and clear —
Cachink!
Arms, that have to flag begun,
Work on, you will soon be done —
Cachink! Cachink!Rich flakes cling to lid and dash;
Hear the thin milk’s watery splash!
Calink!
Sweetest music to the ear,
For it says the butter’s here!
Calink! Calink!— Silas Dinsmore, in St Nicholas.
The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Mar 4, 1899
Katherine H. Purdy 