^{I still remember the sound of the milk bottle click, click, click, every morning, as the milk man left us the milk out side the back entrance of the house, he also left butter, cheeses and eggs. When did the milkman stopped delivering? I don’t remember , but I do remember the odd taste that the milk in the bottles from the grocery store had. It took me a while to get used to blended, pasteurized milk, but I adjusted.}

^{I like must people, love the taste of fresh food, something I did not have much of, when living in the city. The Good thing about living in Wisconsin is that I have the opportunity to get fresher food. Even the milk and the cheese taste different. Every year we go to the orchard and pick fresh apple come home with a baskets. I am fortunate to live in a small community surrounded by farms.}

^{But the farm are despairing fast, One by one, all of those favorite places to get fresh food are fading into nothing more than fond memories. The milkman, the butcher shop, the bakery, and the roadside stand are as hard to find as the cobbler that once resoled our shoes. I remember the shoes repair, the leather soles, shoes lasted for years.}

^{The small farmer is selling to the big industry. A farm is lots of work and not much money. When the children grow the live the farm for the city}

^{Fortunately, after several scares with the safety of food imported from far off lands, farmer’s markets are making a comeback. I have been shopping at the farmer’s market in here for the past few years. Along with the fresh produce, there are home made soup, herbs, cheese and home made jam, all of it fresh and local. Now that’s my idea of shopping.}