A churning song

Johannes Vermeer, the Milkmaid, c. 1658

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, milk the cows, wash the clothes, prepare and cook the food. In 1634 a terrific gale hit the island of Nordstrand, causing the sea to break the dykes, flood the island and destroy 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), and ready to depart for the New World and New Holland for a new life.

The butter churn surely followed.

‘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

Bruegal, Visit to a Farmhouse