Heavenly Aroma

When I forced myself awake, my head was whirling with the events of yesterday. First the snake - ugh! - then the wonderful fun at the twins' house. I smiled happily before remembering the terriffing experience of being locked in that Smokehouse. Before I could get too involved in my thoughts, an aroma I could not mistake filled my nostrils.

"Country Ham!" I cried.

I threw on my clothes and quickly ran down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Is that Country Ham I smell cooking? M-m-m and Red Eye Grary with

biscuits, too. Oh. Grandma, I love you!"

Grandma grinned widely and winked at Grandpa. "Me, too." She said still

smiling.

After eating entirely too much, I said, "I can't eat enough of this country

ham! I love it."

Grandpa said, "That's another thing we have in common. I could eat this ham

every meal."

Grandma said briskly, "Katie, get your hands washed. I have a chore for

you."

My heart sank. How could I do chores after such a wonderful breakfast?

Aloud, I said meekly, "Yes Ma'am."

When I had washed and dried my hands carefully, I returned to find

Grandma with her churn for making butter waiting for me.

"Oh, Grandma. Is this my chore?" I had watched my sister, Mickey, churn

the butter many time for Grandma, but this was the first time I'd ever been allowed to perform such an important task. "I couldn't believe it when you told me yesterday you'd teach me how to chum."

"It's not hard; itjust takes a lot ofpatience to wait until the butter appears on the handle. I usually read my Bible while I'm churning." Grandma said almost softly.

"Mickey said you have read the Bible all the way through four times! Is that really true?"

"I have indeed. As you know, I raised our nine children and they required a lot of milk. Our three cows produced enough milk to keep us all healthy. That required churning every day to keep up, and I read my Bible each morning. Now, of course, with just your Grandpa and me, we need only one cow; and I chum three times a week." Kathryn Bush

"Do you read your Bible every day anyway?" I asked somewhat timidly.

"Oh, yes," Grandma said quickly, "I read some each day when I have to go upstairs every afternoon to rest. My doctor has insisted that I rest for two hours after lunch. I have a tendency for migraine headaches, and I have found the daily rest keeps me from having them so often."

"What will I do while you are resting? Shall I read the book I brought with me?" I was rather eager to get started on "Heidi" and welcomed a quiet time to enjoy that. It seemed as if Grandma was going to rest for a couple of hours every day, and I realized sadly that I should have brought several ofmy favorite books.

"I still can't believe you have read the Bible so many times. I'm number one most of the time in Bible drills. You know, we have contests to see who can find a particular verse in a book of the Bible the fastest. That is easy for me, but I've never read the whole Bible - even once." I said in awe of Grandma's accomplishment.

Soon, I was churning away, almost too vigorously at first to be able to have the stamina to last until the magic butter appeared. Grandma had told me the milk she'd put in the churn was "clabbered" as was required to make butter. It was only later that I learned what clabbered meant.

As I sat there tiring rapidly, I decided I must churn more slowly in order to finish my task. I slowed my pace and looked out over my Grandparents' large farm. At least, I looked at the part I could see from my limited vantage point. I remembered the large barn and the ample chicken house, to say nothing of the outhouse a distance away. I'd never really get used to the outdoor "plumbing." Howeveq it was so much fun visiting in the country, I could excuse the lack of a few modem conveniences!

I looked off into the distance and located Cary and Mary's house. Their sister, Woody, is my sisteq Mickey's age, lacking a year. Sometimes, all of us had fun together; but mostly, I played with Cary and Mary, and when Buck was with us, he joined our group.

I looked up on the hill, and saw Aunt Flora and Uncle Pate's house. I looked carefully, and actually saw a slight movement on their porch; and I instinctively knew that was Aunt Flora rocking back and forth. I could almost see her chewing her usual gum and looking off into the distance with a worried look on her face. Many times I had wondered what concerned her so.

I glanced down at the churn, and suddenly I saw small bits of butter come up with the handle. "Grandma," I cried. "I see butter on the handle! It's just like you said. It's small, but I see it!" I was so excited.

"Now you've got it. It is always so exciting when the first butter appears; and you realize you have created this yourself. It is worth waiting for."

"When can I churn again?" I cried.

"In a couple of days. Remember I no longer have my nine children at home, and now we have only one cow. I still have to mile her every day, but I store the milk in our cool cellar. We are able to drink whatever milk we need and 'clabber' the rest for butter and buttermilk."

I was thoughtful for a moment as now I realized why she always told us at meals to "sip the milk along with your vittles." She was saving the rest of that generous supply for making butter. Fascinating! FORTY GRAND

"Grandma, I didnl go up to get my book to read while I was churning." looked out over the farm and remembered the fun we'd had in past summers. The time passed very quickly.

"I've always said that with your vivid imagination, someday you'll be a writer."

"Do you really think so, Grandma?" I asked thoughtfully.

"You have the temperament and the colorful flair for using words." Grandma finished almost proudly.

"Maybe I'll just start keeping a few notes in the notebook I brought with me. Who knows - someday, I'll be glad I did." I said and decided that was a good idea.

"It's always fun to keep a sort of diary," said Grandma. Now let's get the churn into the kitchen. We have to separate the butter from the liquid. You've not only made butter, you've also made buttermilk.

Grandma expertly (out of long practice) poured the buttermilk into containers and molded the butter into pats large enough for our daily use. She solemnly poured two glasses of the fresh buttermilk for us to enjoy.

"Better make that three glasses, Mattie," said Grandpa. I'm off to work, but I love buttermilk almost as much as Country Ham."

All three of us eagerly drank the delicious milk. I'd never particularly cared for buttermilk, but I made this myself'! I asked for another glass. Not to be outdone, my Grandpa joined me.

Grandma was very pleased at my first churning experience. Her plan was workins.