I loved spending summers on my grandparents’ farm.  Grandpa was a dairy farmer, so his day began way before sunrise.  I recall hearing him head out the back door and down the path by the smoke house where he would milk the cows and later bring in fresh milk for breakfast.  After that eggs were to be gathered and bacon was brought in from the smokehouse. I can still hear sound of bacon sizzling and smell the homemade biscuits cooking on the  ...