What is it about the 4th of July weekend that
brings my paternal gran to mind? Must have
something to do with the fact that she used
to host.
I remember the excitement knowing we were
going to her place to make homemade ice
cream. In those days, it was crank by hand.
So as kids, we were first in line for our little
cranks as we simply didn't have the strength
needed for the latter part.
Once the cranking became impossible, it
would be left to set up in it's cavern of ice!
God, I don't think waiting for anything else
in my life has been so hard. I can remember
my brother and me prancing around with
anticipation and joy.
Once gran pulled out the blade and put it on
a plate, we were allowed to spoon off the
excess ice cream whilst the grownups served
up the bowls. Know this! As a child I knew
the meaning of ambrosia long before I ever
started using the term. There is naught in this
world like her homemade ice cream!
Having her own cows and using a separator,
she could literally cut the cream with a spatula.
Take that and just think what kind of ice cream
it would make!
Today as we plug in the crank, I will silently
raise toast and a memory . . . God, I miss her!
Ice cream in hand . . . or not!!!
today is the day
the fourth and homemade ice cream
making memories
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