There I was, wandering the thrift store, fully intending to avoid buying anything. And then there it lay—a milking stool with handle. Worn wood, scuffed legs, and that curious little peg sticking out the side. One leg had the same sort of carved rings I remembered from the old porch columns. The handle, I noticed, had a hole in it. It was probably used for hanging on a barn wall or hooking on a belt loop.
I picked it up, of course.
The Three-Legged Wonder
The milking stool is a short three-legged wooden seat for the use of none but Bessie and her associates while they are undergoing the milking process. The handle is for carrying from cow to cow. The hole in the handle is not for ornament, but has utility also. You can hang it up, hook it, or put a rope through the hole.
The three legs? It isn’t merely “barny-garny.” The three legs stand firmly on the uneven floor of a barn, but since she has four legs (generally speaking) she wobbles. And when you are milking a cow, to say nothing of other five-legged animals, wobbling is bad form.
Probably a Copy of the Real Thing, but
It was probably not from any home in the Cow Country. The handle looks machine-turned instead of hand-carved, but that’s of no moment. It has the right form, the right feel. It may never have seen a cow, but it has the spirit of one.
I brought it home without any qualms whatsoever.
The New Life of an Old Type
It is now used as a plant stand in the living room. I have made a step-stool out of it, too. Once it served as a place for a book stack near the couch. They are surprisingly useful implements.
I have seen others made into rustic tables, props for photographs, etc. For instance, one friend used hers successfully in a wedding ceremony. It was not originally intended that way, but it was done successfully.
The Reason for Its Chief Interest
Probably its chief interest to me lies in the fact that it is a small, solid reminder of a time when things were made for a purpose. This thing is full of utility and nothing else. It is low down, easy to carry about, and built for use rather than being admired.
And yet it is looking good, for instance, sitting in a corner with a pot of fern in an appropriate attitude on top.
I like to own something that could have been used in a barn-like place about 80 years ago. Or that looks as though it could have been used in such a place. Because this is a design that did not need to be changed, because it worked so well. This sort of simplicity is seldom found.
So I brought the stool home. It is all scroopy, and uneven, and does not fit in with anything the rest of my possessions. And for that reason, I would not part with it for a reasonable sum of money in a shiny new side-table.
If you find a milking stool with handle, take a 2d look at it. You may find more charm and beauty in that small-sized stool than in half the other things you can buy at the store.