Fresh farm milk

And how exactly do I have access to

real whipped cream, as in real cream whipped, as in skimmed off a gallon of milk from a local farm?

I’ll tell you. Her name is Brooke, and she’s our new milk girl.

About a month ago, Brooke moved from a rural area into town. One of the things she was most sad about with her change of location was giving up access to a nearby farm, where she would drive each week for fresh farm milk. Living twenty minutes away now, she just couldn’t justify it with the cost of gas.

Fresh farm milk spells fresh butter, homemade yogurt, new cream… and beautiful nutrition. Mmm.

One night Brooke was chatting with her new husband and they got an idea… What if she would invite several other people in on this with her? She could make the weekly run and deliver the milk to their homes, increasing the price per gallon just enough to get her money’s worth in gas.

Believe it or not, this is our current sweet setup.

About five of us jumped at the chance, which means that every Tuesday morning we have fresh whole milk delivered to our doorsteps at $3.25 per gallon—considerably fresher, healthier, and cheaper than any we could buy from a store.

I’m telling you the story in case you feel like setting up a local cooperative run of your own. It works. It requires patience and flexibility on the part of Brooke, who gets last-minute emails that we don’t need milk this week after all, or need two gallons instead of three, or are stepping out for the morning and would she just put it on the top shelf of our fridge? I tell her she will soon tire of this, but she smiles and says “I like fresh milk.”

Oddly enough, when Brooke was a little girl she lived in the wilds of northern Minnesota where I did; she rode on my lap to school every day of the week. I remember the sharp-clean smell of her bulky winter coat against my cheek, and the neat part between her braids, and the precise way she said the same words each time she stepped out of the car—“Thank you for givin me a ride.”

This tickles my mind—the two of us all grown up and making homes in a little Pennsylvania town, her bringing milk to my door. What are the chances of that?