Churning Song

Johannes Vermeer, the Milkmaid, c. 1658

Volkje Jurraiens von Nordstrand

Gentle reader:

On the last day of the last year of her life on Nordstrand, Volkje and her sister Annetje would have gone about their daily tasks, rising to feed the chickens, tend the ducks, gardens to tend, candles and soap to be made, milk the cows, wash the clothes, prepare and cook the food. In 1634, a terrible gale hit the coast of North Frisia and the island of Nordstrand, causing the sea to break the dykes and flood the island, destroying churches, farms, and homes with great loss of life. Sixteen year old Volkje and her older sister Annetje are the only two in her family who are known to have survived.

We find her, five years later in Amsterdam, marrying Jan Franz Van Husum (Husem), departing for the New World, New Holland, and a new life.

The butter churn surely followed.

Volkje might have said, "'An aching back, a weary arm robs the churn of its charm.'"*

Then added, "As harsh as life ahead may be, with nothing but a butter churn, my future prospects are certainly better than what I leave behind."

‘Apron on and dash in hand
O’er the churn I stand’
Cachug, cachink!
Aching back and arms so weary

We are not so dumb as you might think
It’s just that we have no time
We must work
We milk the cows, we let it sit
While we mend, clean and cook
Then take the cream
And place it in a barrel
From which we churn and turn
Hour after hour
To make our bread and butter

And you my child, the future
You are not so smart
Yes you, who do nothing more than text
You see, oh no you don't
That iPhone in your hand is
But a stratagem to beguile
A clever ruse, a simple trick
A wile they say is free, and
All the while
They charge you out the ass
And turn your brain to mush

Pieter Bruegal, Visit to a Farmhouse, c.1620–1630

*From a poem by Silas Dinsmore, St. Nicholas Magazine, 1874.