Today is day 27 of the month long writing challenge sponsored by Two Writing Teachers.
The tribe over at the Facebook group TeachWrite post a word of the day to help prompt writing. Typically I read the word and pass on by, but this morning I saw the word butter and a flood of memories came back to me.
My dad was a milkman and a product of the depression. He oftentimes brought home creamer that was a day or two day past due, but still good to use. My very handy mom, also a depression-era child, would take this cream and churn away to make butter.
She knew exactly how long to crank the churn to turn that white liquid into the most beautiful shade of yellow you ever laid eyes on! She would put aside the liquid buttermilk for her baking and start the process of rinsing the clump of butter under cold water to ensure all the buttermilk was removed. She amazed me with the ease with which she moved through the long and tedious steps, never complaining or moaning about the rigor of the task. Maybe it was because the end result was a glorious tasting butter. A creamy substance that was like a taste of heaven.
And while that butter was delightful, what I recall even more was the taste of the butter eaten with a stack of homemade buttermilk pancakes.