Every little boy needs a dog!

Earlier in that first summer, I heard a car pulling into our drive and with Little Mike in my arms and Ken by my side, I hurried to the back door as my Mom and Dad drove up.

Dad got out of the car with a grin on his face and said, “I have something here for the boys!” He opened the back door of the car and out jumped a medium sized Rat Terrier. She immediately spied Ken and ran to him and licked his face to say “Hello!”

Ken petted her and said, “Bow!” and that is how we came to call her Bow!

Our neighbors, who lived about a mile north, had a collie dog and he began coming down to visit Bow! Soon we could see that she was going to have a family!

Bow slept in the shed just east of the house and as her time to have these puppies became close, I checked on her and could see that she was struggling to deliver these little Collie puppies that were a little large for her small body! Not wanting her to be in pain I managed to get her to swallow a couple of aspirin in some water.

As I related this story to the family later they all laughed at me for my concern with this mother dog doing what nature had always handled without any pain meds. But I could see the pain she was going through and knew I would want help if I was in her condition!

The first little guy to appear was definitely a look-a-like for his father, the collie up the road! Then came a little tan guy and three little girl puppies. Bow licked each one like she was so proud of this little family she now had!

It was clear that here was more dogs than we could feed and care for, so the next morning the three little girl dogs were taken off to a new home.

Ken called the brown and white dog “Spot”, and the tan dog “Brownie.” Bow continued to care for them and without the other three dogs she had enough milk to feed these growing puppies.

Spot and Brownie each had a different disposition. Spot would lay by the boys and let them crawl all over him. Brownie was constantly out exploring new territory and smells.

Soon he decided that chasing the chickens was fun and catching one in his mouth he got the taste of blood and as Morris saw this he caught him and flopped that dead chicken in his face, then whipped him hard! He whimpered and stocked away. But that didn’t stop him the next day as we found 2 more dead chickens in the yard! He had not eaten them, he had just found it fun and exciting catching them in his mouth and flipping them side to side until they quit struggling!

The next morning he and his mother both left for a new home and only Spot was left. He didn’t seem to miss either his mother or his brother and stayed close to the children. Their constant companion when outside, for dogs were not allowed in the house then.

Spot loved to ride in the back of the pick-up and on top of loads of hay on Uncle John’s big truck also. He would climb to the front of the load of hay with his nose in the air and what looked like a smile on his face as they drove down the road!

This dog would become an important member of our family and I have several stories to tell you about “Spot!”  

Time to start using the Coal Stove!

As the cool days of fall turned the prairie grass brown, the wind blew briskly from the north west, and rattled the west windows. Of course there were no storm windows on the house, and it was drafty around the windows that steamed over when we began to heat with the coal stove.

Morris was the one who always got up and started the fire before he went out to milk the cows. It was my job to have his breakfast ready for him when he came in from milking so he could start the winter chores of the day.

The fire had to be remade each morning which was the coldest time of the day. The first task was to remove the old ash from beneath the fire grate (a cast iron grid or basket which held the coal). The grate was raised up to allow air in and to let the ashes fall into a pan, and this pan had to be taken out and emptied into the dustbin, a process which created clouds of dust. Although most of the ashes did collect in the pan, the space below still needed to be swept out, which made more dust.
Laying a new fire was a skill which most people in the 1940s and 50’s knew and understood because it was so common-place. You had to start with a few sheets of crumpled newspaper which would burn easily. Next came something like dry twigs or thin shavings of wood, known as 'kindling', stacked loosely up round the paper so that enough air would be drawn though it by the heat of the flame. Wood shavings or dry twigs were often just bi-products of gardening or carpentry, and sticks of firewood could be bought quite cheaply at the local ironmongers. After the kindling came the coal.
The paper was lit in several places with a match or a lighted wax taper.
Sometimes the fire needed help to start. This could be because the wind down the chimney was in the wrong direction, or there was not enough or too much of it, or there was not enough kindling, or the coal was damp, or it was a poor batch of coal, or for any one of a thousand and one other reasons.
As the days grew shorter, and the nights longer, sometimes Morris would have to get up in the night to add more coal to the fire. That made it much easier in those cold frosty morning to get the house warmed up again.
After he left to work down at the Johnston Home place, or whatever his job was for the day, it was my job to keep those home fires burning through the day to keep myself and the boys warm.
Reminiscing about all the work that went with keeping the house warm with that old cold stove makes me appreciate the electric heat we have now! Just turn the switch and it starts warming the house!

Fall is here!

There was always a “breeze” on the hill where our Little Prairie Home sat! With the days getting colder the boys had to be bundled up to go out and play.

Taking pictures was not as easy as it is today with our camera phones. That little box camera we owned took 120 film and the expense of film was sometimes more than our budget would allow. We did capture a few photos of the boys then however.

My Mom and Dad were always bringing something up for them when they came to visit. They brought them a stroller that we could put both of them in and Morris use to push them out on the road between the house and the barn on a warm day when he was home.

Preparing for winter

Doing laundry out on that open back porch began to be a chilly job as winter approached. The heated wash water soon cooled off and felt even colder on the hands as I grabbed those clothes out of the washing machine and ran them through the wringer into that cold rinse water!

Morris decided to enclose the north end of the porch for a ‘Mud and laundry room’. He left enough room south of the door into the kitchen to hang coats on hooks and leave the boots sitting under them. He built screen covered windows all across the east side then covered this with clear plastic for the winter.  This still left about 12 foot of open porch on the south of the door into this enclosed part.  Of course the steps that had been in the center of the porch were moved down in front of the open porch now.

The North side of the porch had no windows in it and this kept that cold wind from whipping around the house in those cold winter day and blowing right through there. This made it so much nicer for me and now the two little boys could be out there with Mom too.

I usually held baby Michael on my left hip and pulled the clothes out of the water with my right hand and pushed them into the wringer. Once he put his little hand into the wringer. He never let out a cry as I quickly released it! It scared me more than it did him I think. However this had taught him a lesson even though he was only about 6 months old, and he never did that again.

I had a rope cloths line that I ran from one side of the kitchen ceiling to the other where I hung the cloths to dry when it was freezing cold out and I couldn’t leave the boys to go out and hang them on the outdoor cloths line that was north of the house.

Morris brought a load of gravel up and dumped it in front of the porch and south of the well to keep out that mud and dirt some.

Ken and Mike loved to play in that gravel. Mike was sitting on the gravel and of course put his little hand down and grabbed a handful and put it in his mouth. Morris came by about that time and tapped him on the head and said -”Spit that out!”

Ken said…”What you trying to do? Killed Him?”

Morris had to turn his head to hide the grin on his face from Ken!

I don’t think Mike spit it all out. I had to put my finger in his mouth and clear it all out!

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Winter approaches

With our second season upon us here at our new place, we are just barely beginning to get our boots wet, or more accurately, filthy - with the "farming" end of things - the daily care of the animals in our charge. It's exciting to be at the beginning of something - with so much still to learn and discover. So much yet to experience. Everything feels new – because at least to me it was new.  There is much wondering, discussion, dreaming and planning for what and who may (or may not) come next.

Yes, all of this feels new, exciting and wonderful yet frightening, if I may be so bold as to say that.  My heart was happy here, doing this right now and anticipating what's around the corner. And yet - it's also a little bit scary, a tiny bit frustrating, and a whole lot humbling. To be doing this on our own, raising two beautiful little boys. Watching each step they took! Listening to the first words they said!  We were blessed with family who were right there to help us when we stumbled. Helping us in so many ways! watching along as we stumble our way into the beginnings.

The fun times were the hay rides to feed the cattle. Riding the sled down the hill to the outhouse. Making snow ice cream and snow angels. Hooking the home made sled onto the truck and giving the boys a ride down the road. Popping popcorn. Snuggling up in a blanket and reading books to them. Baking cookies and candies. Home mixed modeling clay and finger paints. Coloring Big pictures on Butcher paper that was saved from the frozen meat wrappings. Good clean fun at little cost that were actually learning experiences without the boys actually knowing they were learning a lesson.

Remembering these times make me forget all the hardships we had to endure and made it all worth every minute of it!

Remembering where we came from!

This is a book about people who are shaped by the places they live and the times they've lived through.  I hope I have painting a portrait of the place we chose to live in and loved.

 

I compare our few years on the Prairie to a musical composition with themes and resonating chords that appear and reappear. I am EXPLOREING OUR beginnings but also other birthing and beginnings, moving on to gifts and graces, and then through relationships, homes, journeys and more. A new and fascinating way of regarding life.

What history has taught me is to remember where you came from. Having this connection with the past helps me to see more clearly into the future. We need to pass the connection and the stories to our children and grandchildren. We all need those ties.

Many of us make decisions that set the course of our futures —for good or ill— while we’re still only youngsters. For some it might be a decision to do nothing: the easiest of all to make, just allowing ourselves to be tossed around like corks on the sea of life, washing up on any shore, or maybe never seeing shore at all. For others, it might be a decision to take a path in a new direction that, if followed unwaveringly, will yield benefits in our adult years. I’m happy to say that I made the latter kind of decision at the tender age of 16. It was a very good decision, as things turned out, although I didn’t realize that at the time. I’d like to tell you more about it....

Chickens

The "Double Crib Barn" consisted of two cribs separated by a breezeway and covered by the same roof. The breezeway, which essentially acted as a driveway which entered the barn was often used for the grain or hay trucks, to protect them from the rain.

This barn was just south of the house as you drove up the long drive. Our Prairie house was situated on the top of the hill and the view to the west was awesome! Prairie as far as you could see! With no fence around it as it was just a hay meadow.

As I remember, the cribs were separated  by a drive thru and had a slanted roof going down from the east and west end of the barn. The wall, and door boards were spaced apart to allow air to flow through the crib to help dry the corn still on the cob. Now, farmers have expensive metal silos with equipment to circulate and dry corn that is already shelled before it goes into the silo. So many things have changed since those days and these memories just bring back the smell of corn,  hay, and wood in the barn that will always be a part of my lifetime experiences.

Morris’s aunt and uncle, Carl and Elda Buchanan lived just east of Pittsburg, KS, which was about 10 miles from us. Carl had worked for Dickey Clay in Pittsburg where they made clay pipes. They closed down and that left Carl without a job. Fortunately he found a job in Kansas City, with Fairbanks and Morris Co, a foundry, but that would mean they would have to move up there.

They had about two dozen hens and a couple of roosters that they brought over and let us keep for them while they lived in Kansas City temporarily. It looked like the west side of this old crib barn had been used as a hen house, as there were nests built along the side (wooden boxes with a filling of hay)  and  some roosts in thereas well, and we released the chickens there and shut the door until they become accustom to their new home. Later we let them roam in the large yard that was just a part of the prairie that had been fenced off. This had not been mowed until haying season when the guys had the mower on the tractor. So it was usually only mowed one a year!

Along about sunset the chickens would all come back to their hen house and fly to the roost for the night. We would then go out and close the door so the coyotes and foxes could not get them.

Their natural instinct is to scratch around in the dead leaves and twigs in the grass looking for bugs. They also are partial to quite a lot of greenery. They also would find themselves somewhere where they could have a dust bath. They would find a patch of dry earth, and wriggle around until it was all through their feathers. They seem to know that it would clog the pores of the mites in their feathers, and get rid of them.

The next spring some of the hens began to roam out in the field and make a nest for brooding. It was always amazing to me that they managed to brood those eggs without a fox or coyote making a meal out of them!

Wild chickens are forest animals. They live in small groups called flocks. They scratch in the dirt and forage for things to eat. While one hen sits on the nest to lay, the group may wander away through the undergrowth searching for food. The hen's cackle serves to renew the contact with the group as if to yell "where are you?". The cock (with the other hens) answers "here we are!".  This was like music to me... for a while!

A mother hen enjoys lovingly teaching and nurturing her baby chicks. The chicks find sweet comfort under the shelter of mom’s wings and mother hen takes great pleasure in her wise and protective role. A mother hen will do everything in her power to protect her biddies. It’s her instinct. Call it chicken love if you will, but the hen is hardwired to protect them.

It was a delight to see one of the hens bring her brood of little fluffy chicks up to the hen house. Her wings stretched to her side and those little heads peaking out as they walked along protected by Mothers wings.

One of the roosters loved to crow at the break of dawn! Morris usually was up and down at the barn to milk the cows early, then he would come up to the house and I was to have his breakfast cooked so he could go of to the field or whatever he and Uncle John had planned for the day.

 I loved to sleep in! And if the babies would stay asleep I would too! But that darn Rooster seemed to have it in for me! He would come up right under our bedroom window and crow  his loudest!

This made me so angry that I would go out on the back porch in my gown and throw whatever I could get my hands on at him! Of course I never could hit him. He would strut away like he was king of the Prairie and join his Harem of Hens as if he had accomplished his days work!!!

We named him Dormeyer, after the name of a fine heavy duty electric mixer…you know …an egg beater???

It was Dormeyer’s delight to catch me in the outhouse and try to attack me with the long sharp spurs he had growing on his legs just above his feet, as I was leaving! He because so aggressive that I feared he would attack one of boys. Morris’s Mom laughed and said, “Oh! He couldn’t be all that bad!” One old Rooster?” So we decided to give him to her.

It was not long before she became a believer and Dormeyer went to live with the hens down at the Johnston house!

He soon disappeared from there! We never knew if he was caught by a coyote or fox or ahum… met his demise in some other way!

The day that rooster left our Home on the Prairie was a day of celebration for me!