The Farm

When I was in first grade, we moved to a farm near Underhill. It was during the war and if your draft tests came back saying that you were not eligible to be in the service, there were two choices; to farm or work in a factory. My Dad chose the farm. He and my Mom’s brother-in-law both had heart problems so they decided to combine their talents and work together on this project.

The farm house was the kind that you see in rural Wisconsin, a two story house build in the shape of an L with a porch across the front. My Uncle Clarence and Aunt Edna (Mom’s sister) moved in with us. Aunt Edna took over the housework. My Mom, being older and having come from a farm family where she did a lot of the outside work was happy to have Aunt Edna cooking and keep an eye on the three of us.

As I said, I was in first grade so I had to go off to school every day with my lunch pail. That left Aunt Edna with my two sisters. From the kitchen window, Aunt Edna could see the one-room schoolhouse about a half mile away. I would walk down the driveway and turn right, then go about the same distance to school.

This school reminded me of when I was too young to go to school. I was allowed to visit the school that my Aunt Ruth taught. Is was a one-room school in Sugar Bush. This was also before she got married to one of the guys that lived on the farm across the street from her school. I was too little to be in a class then but at our farm, I wasn’t.

One of the best things about a one-room school was that when the teacher was working with a class up front, the older kids would be working in the back or helping some of us with our work. Everyone worked together, except on the playground.

On the south side of my school was the playground with its merry-go-round type of swing. The bench of this swing went all the way around the tall pole that held it up. After everyone was sitting on the board seats, with their feet facing the center pole and holding on to the pipe railing in front of them, one of the older kids would push the swing in a circular fashion. It was great fun.

The playground wasn’t really big but we played dodge ball and other games that we could chased each other, like tag with the younger kids always being "it".

In the back part of the playground there were two outhouses, one for the girls and one for the boys.

In front of the school, near the road was a water fountain that always had water coming out of it, winter or summer. (I went back many years later and found that the water is still coming out of the ground at that place but the buildings and fountain are gone.)

The hard part about being in first grade was that we got picked on when we were outside. By the end of recess and lunch, I always had snow all over my snowsuit because throwing snowballs was part of the fun for all the older kids and I was one of the targets. The boys loved to throw snowballs.

One summer our cousin, Gloria came to visit. We asked if we could play on the swing at the school, and because Mom could see the school from the kitchen window, she agreed. That would keep us busy for a while. The four of us went down there and were having a really good time when we got company. For some unknown reason, our bull got loose and wandered down to the school yard. When we first noticed him, we made sure that the swing was between him and us. Then we decided to get into the outhouses. We did and we stayed for a very long time. If you have ever spent any time in an outhouse, you know that even a short time is long.

I guess when Mom checked on us and couldn’t see anyone; she got worried so she sent Dad over to see what we were doing. He found the bull in the school yard. Then he called to us to find out if we were OK. He told us to stay put for a while. Then grabbing the nose ring on the bull, he told us that we could come out slowly and head for home. He walked the bull home.

Moral of the story, if you have a nose ring, someone else can be in control?

The people who presently own what was our farmland made three ponds in the field across the street and below where the school used to be. This field was where Dad kept sheep during the war but now the artesian well from the school feeds these ponds. The farm house has been enlarged and upgraded. A garage has been built under the house. Even the out-buildings, the machine shed looked nice. It was good to go back and know that someone was really caring for this land after all this time.

We didn’t have a tractor to work the land back then because gas was rationed Like everything else at that time, but we did have two very large horses.

Rationing was interesting. We used to get a book of coupons that would allow us to get so much of this or so much of that. As an example, when you ran out of sugar coupons, you weren't allowed to buy any more until the next book came out. It worked that way for shoes and a lot of things.

To this day, I refuse to cut coupons to get 7 cents off on some product. This practice is just an extension of what we did during the war. If some company wanted to give a certain amount off today, why not just give everyone 2 or 3 cents off the product across the board? Why play the game? How about being a preferred customer? Now that is one that I really dislike. If my Aunt Mable comes from out of town and wants to buy Ocean Spray Juice but doesn't have a card for that store…. I get livid about this one. Anyone who chooses to walk into your store is a preferred customer. End of lecture!

As you can see these are all extensions of the games started during World War Two.

Back to the memories, one that I have was with Dad up in the haymow of the barn and Uncle Clarence is by the wagon that was loaded with hay. My mother was outside of the barn working the horses. She was really good at this. When Uncle Clarence told her that he was ready (Having clamped the bulk hay into the twin forks that were on a rope coming down from the top of the barn.) Mom would grab hold of their bridle and pull them forward slowly. When the twin forks reaches the pulley at the top, Dad could pull the forks of hay over to the area that he was filling and with a jerk on a different rope, release the hay where he wanted it. Then he would pull on another rope to return the forks to the pulley and Mom would back the horses up to bring the forks back down to the hay wagon.

This always amazed me but I later learned that my Mom liked horses a lot more than my Dad did and she was good with them.

They were huge horses and not just from the perspective of a small girl. Mom had to reach up to grab them and pull them forward. They also had very thick legs. I remember riding on them but in my mind’s eye I really see myself walking along side Dad as he walked them back from the field pulling the wagon. Usually one of the other girls was on the back of the horse next to Dad and she was higher than Dad’s head.

Another time I remember that Dad took me into the silo with him when it was half full. It was an interesting place but I really didn’t like the smell. It was like smelling cut fermenting grass and having it in your face all the time, not being able to get away from the smell or even taking a deep breath.

Life on a farm in the 1940’s was interesting. We did without a lot of things. We had an outhouse. We even had a pump out in front of the house and all our water came from there. That meant that our baths were in a large metal tub and the water was heated on this large wood-fed stove. The milk from the cows was put into large cans that were set in a cold water bath in the “milk house”.

Betty had a little lamb…that sounds like the beginning of a poem or song but it was true. Donna had a goat and we tied him up so he would pull our little red wagon sometimes.

I loved the big collie that we had. He was a working collie. With sheep, one has to have a dog to work them with you. Every spring a man would come to the farm and between Dad, this man and Uncle Clarence; every sheep would get a "hair cut". Mom kept some of the dark wool and I have a couple of quilts that still have some of this in them.

We made a lot of our fun. I think this is why people have to be entertained today. They never have had to find ways to have fun, like sliding down a haystack or putting chicken feathers in everything.

On the South side of the property there was a creek. I don’t remember going there a lot but I do remember crossing it once with Mom and Dad holding on to us. The only thing crossing this was a log. I don’t think that our property was on the other side but it was interesting to balance on this log while watching the water trickle by.

Life is full of memories if you take time to look back. Most of them are good. I am told that we only want to remember the good times. I think that is right. This is why we call them the Good Ol’ Days.