Winter is here

Winter is here.  It tried to come early December and everyone thought we would have a "White Christmas"---but we didn't.  It was cloudy and in the 50's.  

Ah-h-h-h...I remember when...it snowed frequently and every time it snowed, it mounded up at least 6 inches or more.  A foot of snow was not unusual and by the end of December, we would have 3 feet of snow in our backyard!  We made snow forts, tunnels, snowballs, snowmen, paths to play "Fox & Hare".  Our faces were ruddy red and chapped and fingers were constantly cold and wet.  Rubber boots pulled over our leather shoes.  They were uninsulated boots with metal clasps that clamped down to lock into place.  Brother's old insulated underwear was worn by us girls too because it was warm, not pretty.  Mittens were made of wool and got wet easily.  Snow would cling in little balls to the mittens.  It was as if they had glue on them and getting all the snow off was a chore.  We frequently had to stop our play to go inside to warm up by the large, long radiator where all the mittens, scarves, boots, hats and coats were laid out to dry.  They seemed to take such a long time to dry so sometimes we just put them back on damp, though warm, and ran outside for more fun in the snow.  Even shoveling was fun!  Trying to get the path perfectly straight, then tossing down birdseed or furnace ashes for traction.

Nowadays, though I live farther south, McSmalltown still doesn't get snow like "the old days."

Children are not free to roam about the neighborhood as I did as a child.  The world has become a somewhat frightening place even for adults.  But let's try to remember to at least bundle up and get outside at least once a day.  (I have to really force myself to do this now.)

Just think....FRESH AIR!  and breathe deeply when you're out there in it!

Enjoy the cold weather!!!!!

Gowns

I've only had 3 beautiful gowns in my lifetime. One was made by me to wear to a college mate's wedding. I was her bride's maid. Another gown was one I wore to the junior/senior prom in the sixties, and the other one was made of crepe paper. That was and still is my favorite.

My sister and I loved to be creative, and if you are familiar with crepe paper, you will know that it is a wonderful medium to work with when creating anything. It stretches endlessly, drapes, clings, curls, twists and moves in the most interesting ways. The choices of color are memorable too.

We thought we were the most beautiful young ladies in the world when we posed for these pictures! And weren't we just that!!!!! We even made our hair curls with bobby pins. Bobby pin curls were the tightest and best.

I wonder if little girls today would do this? Or if they would have to have "store bought" play dresses in order to be "pretty"? I think today's children miss out on using their imaginations when they play. They seem to need to be "entertained" by gadgets and everything store bought. What a shame!

Wild Turkeys

My father loved to take rides in the country and, though I got car sick when I was very little, I enjoyed these rides when I was older. He would take "the long way" to the farm where we bought fresh eggs straight from the farmer's wife. I loved to visit her because the family had a very large and friendly black Labrador dog.

One fall day as we neared the farm, my father suddenly halted the car. Now it must be said that we were on a back road that was sparsely used, so we were perfectly safe in doing this. His sharp, experienced eyes had spotted something in the field--Wild Turkeys--a whole flock of them were eating in a "shaved" corn field. I watched from a hundred feet away as they strutted and pecked their way along the edge of the field. My father told me that I should be happy to see this because people who were not hunters usually did not see these birds. Turkeys have very keen hearing and eyesight, but we were sufficiently far enough away and so we watched for as long as we wanted. But, we had to get eggs and so we reluctantly drove on down the road to our destination.

I never saw another wild turkey until my husband and I took my mother for a drive in lower Lancaster County and happened upon a flock of wild turkeys who thought they owned the road. Evidently, the whole neighborhood was feeding these birds and they refused to budge until we honked at them. Then, the old Tom turkey took offense and attacked our car! Windows were rolled up quickly! That was an exciting adventure for all of us!

Yesterday, I had another exciting "turkey adventure"-- in my backyard! In the 32 years that I lived in the Boro, I had never seen a wild turkey. The good Lord urged me to raise my head to look out the kitchen window and into the back yard and there was the most beautiful wild turkey, a hen, grazing in our long grassy lawn She was strutting boldly back and forth, stopping only to peck at something in the grass occasionally. I couldn't take my eyes off of her and my chin remained on the floor. As she strutted out of my line of site, I grabbed my camera and ran to the bedroom window where she continued to strut and graze contentedly. Then, as I moved to take her picture, she looked at me. The camera failed. I became frustrated and the turkey decided she had better take cover and ran to crouch behind a small patch of mint growing beside the cellar doors. She popped her head up to look at me warily, then slowly decided that I was no threat and came out in the open again to feed. I gave up on taking her picture and just enjoyed the magnificent bird that the Lord chose to show me this beautiful fall day. When she finally disappeared into the long weeds and grasses that grew down the hill to the creek, I thanked God for his wondrous world and beautiful animals. It is doubtful that I will ever see a wild turkey in my yard again. I will treasure those few moments forever!

Spiced Crab Apples & Peaches

1 cup vinegar

1/2 to 3/4 cup water

3 cups sugar

10 or more whole cloves

2 sticks cinnamon, broken into pieces

Bring to a boil.

Add small whole peaches (or cut in half)

(NOTE: White Belle of Georgia peaches are best, but other kinds can be used.)

Cook slowly (NOT high heat) until heated through.

Pack in clean hot jars and seal.

NOTE: Mother said she never processed these, but the "Ball" book recommends processing in a hot water bath for 10-15 minutes/

NOTE: For CRAB APPLES:

Bring to a boil.

Add crab apples and heat until the skin cracks a little. [ You can pierce each with a needle to prevent cracking, but I think of the cracks as part of the product.]

Add only enough apples to cover the bottom of the pan.

Cook slowly. NOT on high heat!

Pack in clean, hot jars and seal.

Process 10-15 minutes in hot water bath per the Ball book.

NOTE: These will turn brown over time--nothing to worry about. That was how my mother's were. If you want the color to remain, I suppose you could add some ascorbic acid to each jar.

Getting Ready for Winter

Getting ready for winter involved many things including searching for clothes, canning, and preparing the house for the inevitable forces of winter. In our little town, winter meant several inches of snow which accumulated over the weeks into several feet of snow.

Winter clothes were pulled out of closets and boxes and tried on to see if they still fit. Holes were darned (Does anyone know how to do that yet?), or repaired on the electrified treddle sering machine (What a classic!). Mother took note of what was needed and these were given to us as Christmas gifts later. Boots, skates, hockey sticks & pucks were found, as well as the shovels.

I don't remember my mother canning anything but spiced crab apples, a delicacy at Thanksgiving and Christmas. I will publish her recipe after this post. I must say, however, that here in Lancaster County, I have been unable to even FIND crab apples, let alone spice them. Mother always got hers from an orchard in Mifflin County. Now THERE is a good memory! The man there always gave us each a big juicy peach to eat right there at the orchard. Best peach of the season! Bushels of apples and peaches and pears were brought home and stored in the cellar.

To prepare the house for winter, my father was in charge of going around to each of the large, water-filled radiators and, using a special "key," he would let any unwanted air out of the system. I'm so glad I went around with him those many years ago, because that job falls to me in the house we have now. Same job, different type of radiator. Back then, the radiators had fins and a flat-top shallow cover. Nothing was supposed to be on those covers, but I remember things kept on every one of them. The long one in the dining room didn't have a cover, but we dried our wet scarves, hats and mittens on top and our boot toes beneath. Mother balanced her yeast dough for rolls and breads there also. What a wonderful smell permeated the house as the dough rose! And it was a nice warm place to sit and talk on the phone, provided it wasn't too hot!

After Daddy removed air from the radiators, his next chore was to start the furnace for the winter. I'm not sure what exactly that entailed, but ours was a coal furnace. I can still remember watching the big dump truck back into the alley beside our house. The man would set up a chute from the truck to the open window of the coal room in the cellar (Do people have cellars any more?). Then he would start shoveling the coal onto the chute and down it would slide. It was a very long and noisy task and coal dust was thick in the cellar, so I was not permitted down there until later. When I was a teenager, I was "permitted" to shovel coal into the furnace and to shovel ashes into a galvanized wash tub, which I then carried up the stone steps to the back porch and dumped down an unused cistern that we were attempting to fill up.

I know that not many people today have coal furnaces or understand the heavy lifting involved in keeping such a furnace fueled and functioning properly. But I'm really glad that I was "permitted" to do that for my parents. I feel as if I participated in a slice of old-time American culture. There were other chores I performed back then, that are no longer done by the majority of people. Today, I feel that I am a privileged person for having done these things!

Will my children and grandchildren feel privileged when they are my age??? Time will tell.

Autumn Leaves, Buckeyes & Chestnuts!

Autumn is coming! I like that word better than "Fall". The word "autumn" conjures up not just visions, but smells, tastes, sounds, and how things feel in my hands.

I was the official family raker after my sister and brother left home. It was a chore that didn't feel like a chore. We had a very large maple tree in the backyard that produced about a billion leaves, and we had two buckeye trees out front that produced not only leaves, but buckeyes as well. The backyard was harder to rake because of the grass. The tines of the rake would get caught in the twisted blades of grass. Each stroke had to be repeated many times to get the leaves to move to the collection pile. Hard work for my little muscles! But to see that mighty pile of leaves was wonderful! The musty smell was perfume to my nose. I would run and do a flying sprawl into the middle of that pile and land with a soft thump. Then I would recline with my arms and legs splayed like a spider's appendages, first on my face, then on my back. Leaf dust up my nose, in my hair, all over my clothes, inside my shoes, everywhere. It clung like some magnetic dust and made me sneeze. It crackled like a dry fire in my ears.

When I was done glorying in this huge pile, I would load bushel baskets with the leaves, and dump them into the incinerator at the end of the lot. Then, using many matches, all those beautiful leaves would be lit. Great clouds of autumn smoke wafted their way through the neighborhood as well as through my clothes and hair and skin. I would watch the fire from a few feet away, at the grape arbor, and suck on the sweet skins of the concord grapes that grew there.

The next day, I would stroll home from school, grab the rake and matches and begin raking the front sidewalk and the leaves on the street also. No, there were no mechanical street sweepers, just me. This raking was much easier because the rake passed cleanly over the macadam and the brick sidewalk. These leaves and buckeyes, were piled over the iron grate where storm water escaped and flowed to the river about three blocks away. Since there was air under the pile, the fire was always fast-burning. No worrying about hauling the ashes either since they just disappeared down the grate and were washed to the river with the next rain. One of the "perks" of this raking was seeing and hearing the buckeyes explode as they reached a certain temperature.

Not every leaf was burned or buckeye sacrificed to explode, however. Leaf and buckeye were always collected and gazed upon for days. Eventually, the bright yellow, red and green leaves would dry to a crisp and buckeyes would mold. Many was the time my mother found brown dust stuck between two sheets of white paper on my desk, and black sticky moldy buckeyes in the pockets of my pants where they had been forgotten. It must have been the beautiful mahogany color and large tan "eyes" of the buckeyes that fascinated every child in town because we used to show our collections off to anyone who would look at them. These were never eaten, as we were told that this particular chestnut was poisonous.

Edible chestnuts, however, were available just up the street from our house. Charlie Marks had a tree in his backyard and every year, I would knock on his door and ask him if I could gather some and he would allow me to enter his yard. The chestnuts came enveloped in thick green and very prickly skins and if you wanted the chestnut, you had to stomp on the green skin until it broke open and revealed the brown chestnut inside. That too had a hard shell on it which had to be picked open with fingernails and then the fuzzy inside skin had to be picked off as well. (Now I use a knife) When Charlie realized how much I loved chestnuts, he would frequently knock on OUR door and hand me a small bag of them. They have a very unique flavor, which can be different with different species. I have to buy them at the grocery store today, and when I get the same species as Charlies', I am transported back to Charlie's bag of nuts and that special flavor I loved so much.

Come to think of it, chestnuts took alot of work to enjoy! But they were worth all that effort!

As for leaves, we have two large maple trees and two small Japanese maple trees in our front yard today. I love walking over the leaves and hearing the wonderful crackling, crunching sound underfoot. But I can't enjoy the smell of the burning leaves, as that's not permitted where we live. I have to be contented with collecting the most beautiful leaves and smelling the dry ones (unburned). My son gets to be the raker now, but he finds it just "work". Times change.

Which Corn is Best??

What a dilemma!!! So many farm markets from which to choose my corn-on-the-cob!

I decided to get an ear from each one and went home with 6 ears of corn--some white, some yellow, and some mixed. I marked the fat end of each cob and dropped them into the pan. About 10 minutes later, I put them on a platter to cool off a little. Then came the taste test. One had not been fresh pulled, so it had an "off" taste--too starchy. One was very sweet and did not have that familiar "corny" flavor--not to my liking. One had kernels that were too small so I couldn't get enough in my mouth to really taste the corn. One had kernels that were too big and left the tough outside of the kernels still in my mouth, even after much chewing--not good. One was not filled out from end to end--unacceptable. And then there was the perfect ear of white corn--just pulled, completely filled out end to end, mid-sized kernels, and a sweet but "corny" flavor! YUMMY! And to think I bought it less than a block from my house!!!! Stevie's corn was the best!!! and still is!!!

Corn-on-the-Cob

The best method for making this is to put the shucked corn into a large stewpot, fill with just enough water to cover the corn, THEN (and here's the MAGIC) add a tablespoon of sugar to the water. Let the water come to a full rolling boil, then turn off the heat and remove the corn to a plate. DO NOT OVERCOOK YOUR CORN!!! It only needs to be brought to a boil and then it remains crunchy and flavorful. Slather corn with tons of butter and salt and ENJOY!!!

Now, you ask, why would you put sugar into the water??? Because as soon as the corn is ripped from that stalk, it begins to lose its sugar and turn to starch (which is a very YUKKY taste!). Just this small amount of sugar makes the biggest difference to a corn connoisseur like myself.

NEVER, NEVER put salt into water in which you will be boiling vegetables!!!!!! It makes them tough by pulling out the moisture. Don't do it!!!!!

GOOD IDEA: Instead of shucking and boiling large masses of corn for the freezer all in one day, try boiling just one extra dozen each time you make corn-on-the-cob for your family. When it is cool, cut it and bag it and put it in your freezer! No muss, no fuss! Of course, if you want large amounts of corn in your freezer by end of season, this means you must eat lots and lots of corn-on-the-cob during the season. How hard can THAT be?????

Tablets and Pencils and Erasers! Oh, Boy!

Did I ever tell you that I LOVE to write???

It started with me, at five years of age, pretending to write on small plain tablets my father brought home. Though I didn't know how to print anything but my name and some numbers, I remember sitting on the staircase of our home and "writing" stories on these tablets. Later, when I started school, I would bring home my school tablets and fill them with my stories.

Mysteries! That's what I really liked to write! By second grade, I was reading Nancy Drew mysteries and The Bobsey Twins books. My tablets were filled with stories, but not many school projects. When a tablet was filled, I would just go up to the teacher and explain that my tablet was full and I needed another, and I would be given another tablet, no questions asked. WOW!

Pencils were free for the asking, too! My parents had to supply the huge eraser as well as many that fit onto the pencil. Ah-h-h! I can still remember that special smell of rubber! And see the dark smudges all over my papers! And the holes in the paper where I had just changed my mind too many times.

Today, here I am, typing on a computer as I share my stories. But, you know, it's just not the same. There are no smells to associate with my postings. No crisp new paper or pink flexible erasers or dull lead pencils. But what's really important to me now is getting things down for posterity--my children and grandchildren and maybe eventually great grandchildren and others whom I'll never know here on earth. I am hoping that at least one of them will share the same delights that I did as I grew up in McSmalltown.

My First Day of School

It was September! My first day of school! And it was no ordinary day. The very first thing I did was try to console a little girl who was crying because she had to go to a different school just over the river from the town's school where she now was. The principal even came into our room to console the little girl and then take her over to her new school. I stood nearby, watching and listening.

Then, I could bear it no longer.

"I'll go to school there instead of her if you want!" I offered.

The principal, bent over the little girl, swiveled his head to look into my concerned face.

"No, you can't do that, Lucy," he explained. "The school is expecting her."

"But I don't mind going. She can stay here," I insisted.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Why don't you come ride along with us? I'm sure she would like your company," he suggested.

And so, my first day of school was partially spent riding in the principal's car.

It's very interesting that even at the tender age of seven, I had deep compassion for others.
Still do. Some things are just part of our character from the beginning.
Thank you, God!

Coolin' off

There were a variety of ways to cool off when I was a child. The simplest being to lay under the big maple tree in our backyard. It was fun to lay on my back and look up through the myriad of branches to see small patches of the deep blue sky. Or I rolled onto my stomach and watched the ants march through the grass forest in front of me. I would put obstacles such as sticks and stones in their path and try to guess which way they would go. I would pick dandelions, pull the flower tops off, then use my fingernail to split the stem in half lengthwise. When I put these into a small container of cold well water, they would curl up into the prettiest curly-Qs! Ah, the small delights of a child!

Of course, climbing the tree was always delightful too! Many was the time I climbed that tree and just sat high up in the tree so that even with my feet dangling, nobody would see me there. I would giggle to myself as my mother came out and called for me--perhaps even stood right under me! This was one time that I wouldn't have to do whatever she wanted me to do. And it was so breezy and cool to be up so high--there with the birds as they flew in for a landing on the end of the branch.

Another cool place to be on a hot summer day was our living room. This was an original log structure and heat did not penetrate into this room. But what made it even cooler was closing the huge, long wooden shutters that hung on the outside of the windows. The slats would be adjusted too, so that any breeze could come through, filter through the wood-framed screens, and so make this a wonderful, dark, cool haven on any hot humid dog-day of summer.

One electric fan swung back and forth on the floor of the dining room. This room had a wonderful multi-paned window which overlooked the back yard. Outside, there was a green canvas awning the width of the window. It was rolled up and held in position by sturdy ropes which would be untied when we wanted to cover the window. It was a privilege to unfurl the awning on a hot day. It was heavy and not a job for a wimpy little girl. One had to have muscles! Window blinds were down, but doors were open at the front and back of the house to let in any breezes. To lay on the cool wooden hallway floor between these open doors and in the path of the air stream from the fan, was one of the prime places to be on a hot day.

The very BEST way (and FASTEST!) to cool off on a blistering hot afternoon was to drag out one of Mother's galvanized wash tubs, grab the hose, and fill the tub with well water. Now THAT was COLD water!!! Just curling up into a ball and squeezing myself into that tub and soaking for just 5 minutes would soon have me shivering. Then, teeth chattering, I would jump out, lay in the sun to warm up again, then jump back into the tub. What fun!

Cold lemonade or homemade ice tea in a tall glass with plenty of ice cubes was a good "cooler" then and still is. But I think I'll let those memories, especially of the cold tub of well water, just remain memories, even though we have well water now. Maybe the grandkids can try it though!
Not! They have real swimming pools at their homes! It's not the '50's any more.

Here comes the parade!

Great anticipation & excitement beyond words! That's what I felt on Decoration Day, knowing there would be a parade that afternoon. That morning my sister and my neighborhood friends had decorated our bikes with streamers. They were squeaky clean and wrapped in beautiful red, white and blue crepe paper ribbons and bows. Streamers were woven between spokes and tied onto the back seat of the bikes.

The high school band had been practicing all morning. Now, short bursts from the trumpets and slides from the trombones sounded sporadically. Flutes twittered and clarinets tweeted. Now the drums could be heard loudly banging out a strong rhythm, just a half block up the alleyway.

"Are they coming yet?" was the only question in my mind. I worried that my family would miss seeing the marchers when they started down our street. I ran inside to see where my family was and why they were not standing on the sidewalk with me.

I had put on my majorette costume and my tall plumed hat. I had cleaned my baton so that it flashed brightly when I twirled it in the sunlight. I was ready for the marching band.

I was back on the front brick-paved sidewalk looking up the street to where the band would appear. The drums sounded softer now, which meant they parade had started. Soon they would be here! Then, I saw the tops of the flags, then the flag bearers who carried them.

I yelled through the screen door to my family, "Here comes the parade! You're gonna miss it if you don't get out here NOW!"

Then I was back to the edge of the sidewalk. Now I could see all the flags and behind them came the drum major and the majorettes in their blue and white short-skirted uniforms, throwing their batons in the air, around their bodies, between their legs and into the air again.

The band marched by playing loudly. Every step they took was in perfect time to the music.

Next came the veterans in their crisp uniforms. First a color guard with state and national flags, then the men and women who had served our country.

Local Girl Scouts and Boy Scout troops followed the vets. In later years, my brother, my sister and I would each participated in this event.

Then came the town's children on their decorated bikes. Everyone along the parade route cheered and clapped. They were clearly loved by everyone in town!

Small town. Small parade. Big hearts. Lots of love.

Don't you just LOVE a parade???

The Sweet Life

I am a product of a small town.

Life was blissfully sweet and unfettered by high tech as we know it today. There was a town square with a statue of Joseph T. Rothrock, founding father of forestry, and his dog. There was a grocery store, two small restaurants, a post office, a gas station and a funeral home. There were two churches: Presbyterian and Methodist.

In the summer, we swam in a nearby farm pond where cows lounged or in the "old swimmin' hole" in a creek. To swim in the pool at "Kish" Park was a special occasion! It cost money to swim there.

In the winter, one of the main streets that led downhill to the square, was blocked from traffic so the local children could "sled-ride." An alley from the elementary school and a hillside at the high school were also favorite sled-riding sites.

My family did not have a TV until I was about 6 years old. And even after we had it, I only watched "The Mickey Mouse Club" the first year we had it.

Some of my favorite toys were a metal doll house with furniture and hard plastic "family" dolls (without moveable joints!), baby and bride dolls, old orange crates, my father's hammer, nails and saw, clamp-on roller skates (with a key!) and, of course, my little blue tricycle. My favorite outdoor activities were playing "cowboys & Indians," swinging on my swing, playing in my sandbox (made by my father), roller skating, and, of course, riding my little blue tricycle. None of my toys or activities required batteries in order to enjoy them.

This is just a sampling of some of the things I would like to share with you.

Ah-h-h! The simple life! The sweet life!