Chapter Eighteen

Samuel walked slowly past the dairy barn, tipping his hat toward the milkmaids as they carried bright tin pails from the stanchions.

Mary smiled and waved.

"Morning, Samuel."

"Looks like the girls have been busy."

Anna Yoder laughed.

"The cows don't seem to care if we're ready or not."

Several of the milkmaids chuckled while another strained fresh milk into large stainless steel cans waiting on a handcart.

The rich smell of fresh milk filled the morning air.

Samuel watched for a moment before continuing toward the neighboring building.

Above the doorway a freshly painted sign read:

THE CREAMERY

He stepped inside.

Immediately the temperature dropped.

The room was cool, spotless, and surprisingly quiet.

Large cream separators stood along one wall while polished churns, cheese presses, cooling tables, and shelves filled the remainder of the room.

Rows of round cheese wheels rested quietly on wooden racks.

The sweet aroma of fresh cream mixed with the nutty scent of aging cheese.

Rebecca looked up from a butter churn.

"I wondered when you'd wander in."

Samuel smiled.

"I followed the smell."

Rebecca laughed.

"You men usually do."

Several young women gathered around a large cream separator.

One apprentice carefully poured fresh milk into the top while another slowly turned the crank.

Two streams emerged from opposite sides.

One rich and yellow.

The other thinner and bluish.

Samuel watched with fascination.

"I've never seen one work."

Rebecca caught a cup beneath the larger stream.

"Cream."

She pointed toward the second.

"Skim milk."

"So simple."

Rebecca nodded.

"Some of the best ideas usually are."

Nearby another group worked a large butter churn.

Steady...

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

One apprentice asked, "How do we know when it's ready?"

Rebecca smiled.

"The butter will tell you."

Samuel laughed.

"I've heard that before."

Rebecca looked at him knowingly.

"Glass tells Jake."

"Wood tells Frank."

"The fields tell Amos."

She smiled.

"Cream tells us."

The young girls grinned.

Across the room an older cheesemaker carefully lifted fresh curds from a steaming vat.

He placed them into round wooden molds lined with clean cloth.

Samuel walked over.

"What happens now?"

The cheesemaker tightened the press.

"Now..."

"...we wait."

Samuel laughed.

"There seems to be a lot of waiting around here."

The old man smiled.

"There is."

He looked toward the shelves lined with aging cheese.

"But waiting isn't wasting."

He gently patted one of the wheels.

"Time finishes what hands begin."

Samuel nodded thoughtfully.

Near the back of the creamery another apprentice packed fresh butter into stone crocks.

Each crock was carefully covered and sealed.

Rebecca smiled.

"Winter will appreciate these."

Samuel looked around the room.

"I never imagined one pail of milk could become so many different things."

Rebecca counted them on her fingers.

"Fresh milk."

"Cream."

"Butter."

"Buttermilk."

"Cheese."

"Cottage cheese."

"Yogurt."

She smiled.

"And someday..."

"...ice cream."

The apprentices all laughed.

Samuel raised an eyebrow.

"I think that may become the most popular shop in the settlement."

Rebecca grinned.

"I believe you're right."

Samuel walked slowly toward the aging room.

Hundreds of cheese wheels rested quietly on wooden shelves.

He ran his hand gently across one.

"They look almost alive."

The cheesemaker nodded.

"In a way..."

"...they still are."

Samuel looked puzzled.

"They're changing every day."

He smiled.

"The cheese is still working..."

"...even while it's sitting still."

Samuel laughed softly.

"I believe this settlement has taught me something."

Rebecca looked up.

"What's that?"

Samuel smiled.

"Not all work looks like work."

The room grew quiet for a moment.

Only the gentle turning of the cream separator and the steady rhythm of the butter churn could be heard.

Rebecca looked around at the busy women and smiled.

"We don't waste much around here."

Samuel nodded.

"Not milk."

"Not time."

"And not people."

Rebecca handed him a small slice of fresh cheese.

Samuel tasted it.

His eyes widened.

"That..."

He smiled.

"...will do."

The room filled with laughter.

Rebecca shook her head.

"Coming from you..."

"I'll take that as a mighty fine compliment."

Samuel tipped his hat and stepped back outside.

The milkmaids were already bringing another load of fresh milk toward the creamery.

Tomorrow's butter...

Tomorrow's cheese...

Tomorrow's meals...

The work never really stopped.

And there was no law against work.