They took a load of eggs to market once a month or whenever the pallet was filled. While waiting to go to market, the eggs were collected daily and put on a layered pallet in the cellar where it was rarely more or less than 60*

Collecting the eggs was the biggest chore. They had a coop with a dark laying cupboard to go in. But being free range, the chickens found all sorts of different places to lay, including in the manger of the dairy cows, the hay mow, the grainery, in the machine shed, tractor seats, etc. Gramps had a quite a route he took every day, while collecting eggs. Butter was kept the same way.

When I married, I had quite a struggle with my wife over the butter thing. I couldn't bear to have it too cold to spread all the time and she was certain we would all die from not refrigerating it. My experience on the farm, was somehow nullified because it was up north where it never gets hot.

I finally told her that I wanted my own damned butter. She could eat only the refrigerated crap if she wanted to, but I was going to eat soft, warm, full flavored butter and if it killed me, she could gloat that she was right.

No gloating yet and somehow the whole butter thing just got dropped and forgotten. Funny how that happens. Fucking wimmens.