Its a Daisy

My niece began blogging this week, it is http://www.nanastreasures/ , if you want to check it out.

Her first post was about a churn dasher she had found at a junk (antique) store.

This immediately came to mind.

My time with a churn.





In the early 1970s, our church decided to have an auction. Because the money was for a building fund. Everyone donated items to be auctioned off.

My friend, Marilyn, had a churn and many other items. This churn was a special item to her but for the church she donated something she loved.

I do not even recall what I donated but I can guarantee it was nothing like a churn.

Especially one like this, in fact I never owned a churn of my own.

So As the day approached for the auction, I just knew the churn would go for lots of money, as it should.

We sat through the auction and helped out, (my husband was the bookkeeper for the church).

Imagine my surprise when my Five Dollar bid was the only bid out there for the churn.

Yes, I bought this churn for five dollars.

So for over thirty years, this churn has had a place in my home. Every time I look at this churn I think of Marilyn, our fun times together and how I got her churn.

Marilyn was happy it went to me rather than anyone else.



But that is not my first experience with a churn.

Our first churn was an earthen wear churn, Ivory in color with a band around it.
Somewhere in my mind I can see the top had been replaced also. I believe Daddy made a top out of cedar, The original top had broken.
If I am wrong my sister can correct me. I would love to know.

As a child I spent many days pulling that old dasher up and down to make butter.

We had a cow that was loaned to us for the milk. There were eight of us children and I am sure we all took turns churning butter. I was not enthralled with the idea of churning. I was small and the churn was about as heavy as I was. However I took my turn.

Our dasher was made of cedar, My dad had whittled it out and put it on the end of a stick. I am assuming it was cedar also.

Long hours were spent sitting in a chair or standing and dashing the milk. We would raise the lid of the churn to check if we had butter yet and often Mama had to finish the job.

When the butter was separated, she then separated it from the milk and proceeded to make the best butter you can imagine.

That too took a while to accomplish as the water had to be worked out of the butter.



Today I can still imagine me sitting in a chair, skinny arms wearing out from pulling up and dashing down, into the churn, the home made dasher, A dasher my Dad had fashioned from necessity.

The milk itself is a story. When I was about 5 or 6, My mom had milked the cow and put the milk in our icebox. I do believe it was an icebox, as I recall the Ice Man coming to the house.
(Ice Man another story later).
Mama had a set of big bowls, the biggest being yellow. Then a red and teal and green.
the big yellow bowl held maybe two gallons. When the milk was placed in the icebox, there was little room so she thougth she had it secure.
I was the first to open the door. SPLASH, All the milk came spilling out and broke the big bowl. I hid under the table.
I can recall that day like it was yesterday.
I remember Mama saying, "Well it was my own fault, I was the one that tried to make it fit and it was too big."
That eased my suffering a little, that a clean dress, after all I was covered in spilled milk.
Yes I did cry over spilled Milk.