This is one of those things you have experienced in your life that you could just kick yourself over. Jeez, I could post a whole series of those things. But, I digress...
When I was growing up, I lived in the small town of Mulberry, Indiana. Very close to Mulberry was the farm where my Aunt Mary and Uncle John lived. Mom would take us out to visit our aunt, uncle and their seven kids (all of whom have first names that start with the letter J, but, again, I digress...)
I loved visiting the farm! Besides all those cousins to play with, the basketball goal in the barn, and Salt and Pepper, the two Dalmatian dogs, my favorite thing was the dairy cow Aunt Mary kept for milk. I remember that it was a Guernsey (I'm pretty sure), but darned if I can remember her name. She was sweet, gentle, HUGE, and had those beautiful dairy-cow eyes and lashes.
We would often be at Aunt Mary's at lunchtime, and she always had a huge spread of food on her table for her farmer husband and growing children. One of the staples of the dinner table at her house was butter--the fresh, homemade kind that she churned herself and for which the milk came straight from the cow.
She would always ask if I wanted some butter with my meal--AND I ALWAYS SAID NO! Can you believe it? What I wouldn't give to be able to go back in time and say YES! and try some of that sweet, creamy stuff, right there on the farm it came from. My mouth absolutely waters at the thought of having some of that butter on an ear of corn or a warm muffin.
I don't know if I hesitated because it didn't look like the margarine that was in my refrigerator at home, if I didn't think it was real because of the color, or what exactly the problem was. All I know is that I missed out on a tremendous life experience.