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.