No Rain Again!

1953: Driest year on record. State average precipitation: 25.35”

The Prairie south of the house had been plowed up and John and Morris planted corn there in early spring. With no rain to speak of and the hot weather it didn’t even reach the tasseling stage, so it was decided to cut it and shock it for feed for the cattle in the coming winter.

John still had a team of horses, although they had  used tractors for what farming they did now. He also still had a horse drawn sled with sickles they had used to cut and shock corn, back before the tractor came into use.

|I couldn’t even find a photo of a horse drawn sled anywhere so have inserted this drawing of one.|

As the horse drew the sled down between the rows, John sat on one side of the seat and Morris sat on the other side and they held out their arm to catch the corn as it was cut, stopping to stack it when their arms were full. This was a long and slow process as they shocked the whole 40 acres.

They came in for lunch and in order to make room for Uncle John at the table I would pull that round table out from the corner.  I would fix a full meal not a light lunch. Perhaps a roast with potatoes and onion, or even a meat loaf with mashed potatoes and a vegetable. Lettuce for a salad was not available easily at the grocery stores then as it is now in 2011, so I doubt if I would have had a salad, although I liked to bake cakes, so perhaps I had managed to do that, if I had not had too much interference from the two little “helpers”.

Ken and Mike would both have been seated in their high chairs and Uncle John would always say "Hi Buttons,” as that was always his pet names for any of the small children. That way he didn’t have to remember their names!

They had salvaged some of the corn crop for fodder for the Cattle for the coming winter and somehow, working out in that heat, and even with no air conditioning we managed to survive the 110 degree heat.

That Saturday night bath!

That Saturday night bath in the summer time was easier than in the wintertime. AND it was not just on Saturday nights, but an every night thing them. Our bathtub was the big galvanized tub used on weekdays to rinse the laundry.

Usually I filled the tub with water from the well outside on the back porch and left it to warm through the daytime, then we took turns bathing after dark. First the boys, then me, then Daddy was last. After a day in the fields he was very dirty!

One day it was hot and I had taken the boys for a walk down in the pasture where a little branch ran. It was alkaline water that drained off the coal pits that were south of our land. It was shallow enough so I could sit down in it and it was only up to my waist. Ken, who was only 2 yr old and Mike was about 6 months and still in diapers. I stripped to my undies and let the boys go nude. We were enjoying the cool water when Morris drove in the drive up at the house. He heard us laughing and playing and came on down… stripping off his clothes as he crossed the fence and laughing as he stepped into the water with us. Yes, the family that bathes together stays together. This year is the 59th year we have been enjoying our life together…or as he says, with a grin on his face…’a couple of those years were good years!’

The principal source of heat in the wintertime was the wood or coal stove positioned in the corner of the living room, as the chimney was in the middle of the house, with access from both the kitchen and the west bedroom, although we only had the one coal stove for heat.  It was not so enjoyable to take a bath in a galvanized tub set out on the floor and filled with water heated on the nearby stove.

After supper the tub was placed on the worn living room floor in front of the stove. 

The living room became the bathroom for the whole evening while we took turns taking our bath. I draped a sheet over the backs of several kitchen chairs pulled close to the tub.  This not only gave a little privacy, but also kept the drafts off as we bathed.

 The tub was half filled with water heated in a big pail on the stove.  I always bathed the boys first. When they were dried, in their jammies, and in their beds it was my turn. I was small enough then to be able to sit in the tub and soak away some of the aches and pains of lifting two babies and fixing meals for Morris and usually Uncle John when they were working up here at the ranch.  Then it was Morris’s turn to soak away the field dirt that was impossible to avoid. After putting on his nightclothes he gathered up his dirty overalls and put them to soak in the used, but still soapy, water for the night. The tub was pulled over near the back door and those clothes were put into the washing machine On Monday. 

Hot Summer Time

I loved waking to a soft breeze blowing in the south window over our bed, but soon that breeze was HOT! Temperatures were above 100 that July and August.

Looking west out over the prairie I could see the many blooming wild flowers swaying in that hot breeze and smell their fragrance. Morris usually picket me a bouquet of flowers as he walked through the fields.

There was a porch across the west side of the house and one across the east side of the house. I would sometimes place a wet towel or sheet over the screen door so the breeze would come through it and cool us off.

We had a small electric window fan, about a foot across that Morris put in the west window and this ingenious man, put 2 bales of hay on the porch just in front of that window and sat a bucket with a few holes in the bottom of it. Filled the bucket with water and sat it on top of the hay and it slowly seeped through the hay and the fan brought in moist air that cooled us some.

Usually the boys only wore their diaper as it was so hot.

Ken with his ragged Andy and his bobba

Church

We had long hours of hard work, dusty and sweaty overalls, complexions that were deeply tanned from working in the sun and we seldom took time to sit down and relax except at meal time and on Sunday at Church time.

Morris and I both belonged to the Christian Church in Nashville, Missouri but Morris’s Mom attended the Baptist Church in Minden mines, which was only 5 miles away, so we started to church there.

One Sunday Morris’s Mom, Dorothy, and his brothers Bill and Richard came home from church with us for dinner. Bill had also brought his good friend and classmate, Charlie Clegg. They were both about 15 years old then.

As Dorothy and I were busy in the kitchen  preparing dinner for all of us,  baby Michael began to cry for attention and Dorothy handed him over to Bill and said…’Take care of him”.

Charlie had picked up my Doctor Spock book on  The Common Book of Baby and Child Care, and as Michael continued to cry , Bill said….”Read faster Charlie – Read Faster!”

THE STORM CELLAR

With so many tornadoes reported through the Midwest this past month I though I would tell you about the storm cellar we had by our Prairie Home.

A storm cellar is a type of underground bunker designed to protect the occupants from violent severe weather, particularly tornadoes. They are most commonly seen in the US Midwest ("Tornado Alley") where tornadoes are particularly frequent and the low water table permits underground structures.
Our Storm Cellar was just to the north of the back porch. Close enough to the home to allow quick access in an emergency, but not so close that the house could collapse on the door during a storm, trapping us. This is also why the main door on most storm cellars is mounted at an angle rather than flush with the ground; an angled door allows for debris to blow up and over the door without blocking it and also decreases the force necessary to open the door if rubble has settled on top.
This cellar would have been eight by twelve feet, if I remember correctly, and had an arched roof —but it was entirely underground. This one was built of rock. It had no windows in it and it was very dark inside. The only light came in from the open door and you had to have a flashlight or lantern with you to see well in there. There was no air ventilation as some cellars had that I had been in before.
Shelves lined the walls of the cellar for storing canned produce, however I didn’t know how to can when we first moved into the Prairie Home but my mother-in-law soon taught me how to do this.
I hated going down into that cellar. I just knew there were snakes in it, and I was so afraid of snakes that I would rather take my chances with the storm as to go in where I just knew the snakes were! Therefore I kept the door to it closed all the time. Plus as the boys grew old enough to wander around I didn’t want them to go in there by themselves.
Here is a picture that Morris took of me sitting by the cellar door while we lived here.

When a storm was headed our way we could see it coming for miles as those dark clouds blew in from the northwest across the prairie.
The next year after we moved in, we were glad we had that cellar as we watched two tornado’s crossing the prairie to the west of the house and one later spotted east of the barn! We were lucky indeed that we never did have one come over the farm!
Fully enclosed underground storm shelters offer superior tornado protection to a traditional basement or cellar because they provide overhead cover without the risk of being trapped or killed by collapsing rubble from above. For this reason they also provide the only reliable form of shelter against "violent" (EF4 and EF5) tornadoes which tend to blow the house off the foundation, removing the overhead cover protecting the occupant.

The Outhouse

Our ‘bathroom’ was brand new to us as the old one was about to fall down, and my Dad was hired to build us a new “two holer”. This was located several yards east of the house. The path to this ‘outhouse’ (ice cold in the winter and hot as blazes in the summer - yes, hold your nose) was illuminated at night by the moon (we had to use flashlights - watch your step and take your own means of hygiene with you - often a Sears-Roebuck Catalog or something similar) and in the daytime as you sat there, you could watch spiders busily working on their webs; at night you would wonder where they were and what they were doing. I’ve often wondered how many people suffered spider bites (and wood splinters from the so-called seat) on their buttocks ‘in the good old days’.

 In the dead of winter, we might have to brush a little frost or snow from the seat before sitting. But summers were worse. Ventilation was lacking in the outhouse, so the door was often left open when in use. After all…we were almost a mile from any neighbor, and you could hear a car coming up the road in time to push the door shut or take care of the bottom and pull the pants up and greet them if they pulled into the drive.

A bag of lime was usually kept inside the door and when you were finished with business, instead of flushing, you dumped a cup of lime down the hole. Worked like a charm to keep the flies down as well as the smell!

It wasn't always necessary to walk to the outhouse at night. Many, many flowers planted off the porch, were watered at night, ha. And who can forget the pot? Pot back then didn't mean a weed to be smoked. The pot under the bed was for nighttime convenience, be it an old coffee can or a decorated porcelain utensil.

Until next time....

Little House On The Prairie is a winner!

The History Channel Club had a contest reciently for three free History DVD's and I submitted a photo of the house and a short story about it. Yesterday, April 25th, I recieved a message that it was one of the winners!
I hope you will check it out and read some of their many articles of our past histories in America!
 http://www.thehistorychannelclub.com/