In the poem about crab apple jelly, you learned that the tree was down by the spring, the old milkhouse spring. That’s about a half-mile down the road from the house and seems to be one of those landmarks that everyone knows. It’s a destination. Not because it holds any magic of its own. But just because it’s always been there: never changing. As in, let’s walk down to the spring. Everyone knows.
It was actually a spring that was originally developed to cool milk. The vestige of the old foundation remains and in my minds eye, it seems I can remember the little shack covering it. The pipe runs cold, clean, water year round and plenty of it. And back in the day, prior to mechanical refrigeration, the milk from my grandfather’s (and great grandfather’s) small herd of hand-milked cows was placed in cans and hauled by horse down to the “springhouse” before it was later taken to various cheese plants in the area.
We no longer own the property the spring is on, but it remains a part of our history. And it remains a destination not just for us, but for many in the area, who come to the spring with their bottles and jugs, and carry home with them the best tasting drinking water to be found, Biscuit Hollow brand.
About 15 years ago, a neighbor, Bernard Payne, who used to have a milk bottling plant, approached me about NY regulations about bottling water and thought it would be a good idea if we looked into bottling this water commercially. I provided him the contact information but nothing ever came of it. If we only knew what a hit bottled water was going to become…..I can see it now: bottles of Biscuit Hollow Babbling spring water on the top shelf in supermarkets across America, right above that inferior Dasani. Now that makes your mouth water!
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