Wednesday, March 24, 2004
TYRONE MEMORIES
The first two years at Tyrone were educational. We worked at fitting in with the culture and their way of doing things rather than thinking like “back home.” Dad was broke of that the first Spring when he planted corn and it burned up in July after looking so beautiful in May and June. The soil was different, the seasons were different, and we were different. It was time to either switch our way of thinking or get out. Later on, we did both.
Louis and I cut sprouts with a corn knife, mom and I burned the leaves out of the timber, we fed calves, got the cows in to milk, worked getting our own hay up and did every and anything to “get ahead.” No matter how hard we all tried it seemed a never ending road going nowhere.
Dad plowed up garden space and we all worked up the dirt and planted seed. The army of insects, fungus, wilt, and mildew seemed to choose the garden plot to ruin. It was like we set the table for them. Mom and dad used force against force and we prevailed enough to can some of it and eat a lot of it. Mom and I worked on green beans in a hot kitchen with a wood stove boiling the jars of beans until they were presumed safe. It was an arduous job, but we knew it would pay off later. Next came the tomatoes with the same process.
Finding wild blackberries in the Spring was like winning the lottery. I couldn’t imagine them just there for the picking. Greg Aldridge told dad about an old farm- stead where there was a peach orchard. We all piled on the back of the truck and Greg directed dad to the place. It was unbelievable. Once we turned off the main road it was a paradise for a 4-wheeler. We had never seen such a “non” road before. Dad managed to wind his way through all the rocks and trees and when we got to the farm, the peaches were all wormy. Life had it’s little disappointments to our expectations quite often.
Blackberries were a different thing. They were plentiful and wonderful tasting. It took a lot of well water to wash them but mom canned all she could and when aunt Beulah and uncle Ted came to visit I think she ate her weight in them. She would finish every meal with fresh blackberries and thick sweet cream. It was good with mom’s sweet biscuits or cake.
Mom and dad had to make a quick trip to Nebraska for some reason. I don’t remember why. The strawberries were soon going to be ripe and mom was worried they would be ruined when she got back. She had the ingredients to can them so while she was gone, I picked them all and following the directions they were safely put in jars. Jelly jars, that is. When they came back I can still see the amazement on mom’s face as to how I did all that. It was what needed to be done and I did it. Because I didn’t know the failure ratio I was over-ridden with confidence.
During the summer months the first two years Greg Aldridge and dad mowed right-of-way for the highway department. Dad’s team of horses had to get over the traffic and sudden noises along the way so dad had his hands full. While he was gone mom and I had the feeding to do and Sophus did the milking. Louis left the first of the year and was shipped overseas so he wasn’t there to help. We ran out of grain for the cows and mom was worried about what to do.
Dad made a nice two-wheeled wagon to cart groceries home from the store (while we lived in Omaha) so I took that and walked to Tyrone. I got a 100 lb. sack of feed and had Wayne put it in the wagon for me. The road was gravel all the way home and it was hot so by the time I got to the corner of our farm, I decided it would be a lot quicker to go through the timber to the barn rather than pulling it 40 acres down to the gate and then up the lane which was about two football fields long. The only obstacle being I would have to lift the wagon and the feed over the fence.
It seemed like a good plan. That’s because I’d never tried it before. I don’t need to tell you how big and bundle-some a bag of feed is……I got the wagon next to the fence and tugged and lifted until I had it as high as the fence. I couldn’t make it over so the feed ended up on the fence which was sagging down but I managed to flip it over and the fence popped back up. I thought the wagon would be easy but it was made of solid boards and dad always made everything stout enough to endure any problem. MY problem was getting it over……….after many tries it finally fell over on the other side.
Another thing I miscalculated was pulling such a heavy load through the spongy leafy ground beneath the timber. It was too late to do otherwise….I simply had to get it to the barn and finally did. I made a mental note to stay on the gravel road the next time…….lesson well learned, but I can’t help saying, I felt good knowing that I did it……..
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
Louis and I cut sprouts with a corn knife, mom and I burned the leaves out of the timber, we fed calves, got the cows in to milk, worked getting our own hay up and did every and anything to “get ahead.” No matter how hard we all tried it seemed a never ending road going nowhere.
Dad plowed up garden space and we all worked up the dirt and planted seed. The army of insects, fungus, wilt, and mildew seemed to choose the garden plot to ruin. It was like we set the table for them. Mom and dad used force against force and we prevailed enough to can some of it and eat a lot of it. Mom and I worked on green beans in a hot kitchen with a wood stove boiling the jars of beans until they were presumed safe. It was an arduous job, but we knew it would pay off later. Next came the tomatoes with the same process.
Finding wild blackberries in the Spring was like winning the lottery. I couldn’t imagine them just there for the picking. Greg Aldridge told dad about an old farm- stead where there was a peach orchard. We all piled on the back of the truck and Greg directed dad to the place. It was unbelievable. Once we turned off the main road it was a paradise for a 4-wheeler. We had never seen such a “non” road before. Dad managed to wind his way through all the rocks and trees and when we got to the farm, the peaches were all wormy. Life had it’s little disappointments to our expectations quite often.
Blackberries were a different thing. They were plentiful and wonderful tasting. It took a lot of well water to wash them but mom canned all she could and when aunt Beulah and uncle Ted came to visit I think she ate her weight in them. She would finish every meal with fresh blackberries and thick sweet cream. It was good with mom’s sweet biscuits or cake.
Mom and dad had to make a quick trip to Nebraska for some reason. I don’t remember why. The strawberries were soon going to be ripe and mom was worried they would be ruined when she got back. She had the ingredients to can them so while she was gone, I picked them all and following the directions they were safely put in jars. Jelly jars, that is. When they came back I can still see the amazement on mom’s face as to how I did all that. It was what needed to be done and I did it. Because I didn’t know the failure ratio I was over-ridden with confidence.
During the summer months the first two years Greg Aldridge and dad mowed right-of-way for the highway department. Dad’s team of horses had to get over the traffic and sudden noises along the way so dad had his hands full. While he was gone mom and I had the feeding to do and Sophus did the milking. Louis left the first of the year and was shipped overseas so he wasn’t there to help. We ran out of grain for the cows and mom was worried about what to do.
Dad made a nice two-wheeled wagon to cart groceries home from the store (while we lived in Omaha) so I took that and walked to Tyrone. I got a 100 lb. sack of feed and had Wayne put it in the wagon for me. The road was gravel all the way home and it was hot so by the time I got to the corner of our farm, I decided it would be a lot quicker to go through the timber to the barn rather than pulling it 40 acres down to the gate and then up the lane which was about two football fields long. The only obstacle being I would have to lift the wagon and the feed over the fence.
It seemed like a good plan. That’s because I’d never tried it before. I don’t need to tell you how big and bundle-some a bag of feed is……I got the wagon next to the fence and tugged and lifted until I had it as high as the fence. I couldn’t make it over so the feed ended up on the fence which was sagging down but I managed to flip it over and the fence popped back up. I thought the wagon would be easy but it was made of solid boards and dad always made everything stout enough to endure any problem. MY problem was getting it over……….after many tries it finally fell over on the other side.
Another thing I miscalculated was pulling such a heavy load through the spongy leafy ground beneath the timber. It was too late to do otherwise….I simply had to get it to the barn and finally did. I made a mental note to stay on the gravel road the next time…….lesson well learned, but I can’t help saying, I felt good knowing that I did it……..
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
