We always had one cow that Dad milked and when it came time to make butter, it was my sister Judy's job (mostly
). But whoever did it sat on the living room floor and watched TV while churning. Those glass jars were sturdy! But I think over the years a few got broke and it makes me wonder now if the butter was still in it when that happened
. I think Judy inherited the last one as a remembrance of all those butter churning days