Get Me to the Creamery

Are you old enough to remember the creamery? A place where local milk producers delivered their daily take in metal milk cans in the back of a pickup truck? A place that smelled of souring milk and chilled air? A place where you could buy milk or cream or freshly churned ice cream? Ice cream made with cream and real sugar and whole eggs and maybe one other flavoring? A place to go on a hot summer afternoon if you had a bike and a nickle? Do you remember that place?


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

One thought on “Get Me to the Creamery”

  1. Robin strolled the empty warehouse floors, lightly brushing enormous mixing vats with her hand, gazing upward to the miles of stainless steel piping that was used for pumping milk, sugar, and the flavor of the month. The creamery felt smaller and looked more industrial then she remembered as a child.

    “Are you certain about this?”
    “Yes Mrs. Polsky, your father was adamant, the house, the boat, and the antique Cadillac go to Ben, but the creamery,…well, it’s all yours.”

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