Moving

I have two neighbor friends that will be moving in the next couple of weeks. I am overwhelmed for both of them as they gather their families and belongings and venture into new neighborhoods. Both friends have children and dogs. One is moving to a new house while the other is moving temporarily to a condo until they can locate a house to move into. Both are using moving trucks for some items, one is using a Pod to help store some things until they find their house. Boxes and planning what gets put in the Pod, what gets put in the basement storage, what gets moved first, who will be there to help move the heavy items, how to juggle getting the closings and paper work settled, the kids to/from school. Keeping little ones occupied while cleaning, organizing, setting up the homestead takes place. The list goes on!

Then I recall the Ingalls' first move. The covered wagon, exchange of horses, and careful planning and packing, setting off and just deciding when it was time to stop and set up camp. The journey was difficult; no road!, no warmth!, no rest stops to use the bathroom!, no place to stop for a quick bite!, no entertainment for the kids in the back seat!, heck, no back seat!

Can you imagine moving to a new place with no other people, no furniture, no house even!? Leaving what you know for something you know nothing of. Planning for meals for - who knows how long- before you got back "to town" to get necessary provisions. How do you know how much corn meal to bring? Flour? Beans? What tools and utensils? Personal items? And to complicate matters, traveling in a covered wagon included more difficulties than lack of comfort. Each item packed had to be in it's own special, secure space. The wagon itself could only hold so much weight as well. Too heavy and the horses wouldn't be able to pull as well for as long. Or make the journey, say, across rivers, all the more dangerous. Too little provisions would result in running out of essentials and no where to restock, risking health, safety and the ability to build shelter once a suitable plot of land was found.

What would you bring with you if you could only bring 2000 pounds worth of items? Read here: http://www.essortment.com/all/pioneercovered_rjtw.htm for an idea of how one pioneer woman packed and planned her covered wagon, the preparation that went into journey. Read here: http://www.laurasprairiehouse.com/crafts/packingyourcoveredwagon.html to plan your own journey in a covered wagon. How different would it be preparing for a move in modern times? I must say, being a knitter and spinner, I'm pleased to see that a spinning wheel may have been included in the packing! And the spinning of the wagon cover! What a task!

I'm not sure which type of preparation sounds better when I compare moving out on the prairie and moving in modern times. It seems there may be benefits to both. But I do know that the adventure never ends, and a woman's work is never done. I'll miss my friends as they move, not too far, but not across the street either, and I hope to find the grace of Caroline and the adventurous spirit of Charles when I approach change in my own life.

by bethanyg

A Visit to the Past

  In the little town of Whitehall, AR a log cabin village has been created.  Most of these cabins have  been carefully taken apart and re-assembled here, safe from the dangers of development.  For two weekends every year this village wakes from its century-long sleep to host the activities of reenactors and give visitors a taste of history.

   Come, walk with me; the day is cool but bright.  On a beautiful fall day like this, there's no telling how much fun we could have.  The mule has already been up and working since day-break, turning the sorghum press.  I hear the folks boiling down the sap to make molasses are giving out samples.  On the way, we'll likely see the broom-maker and his wife at work in their shop and the printer setting up and inking all those little metal letters to print out this week's news.  

   Winter is a coming, besides the chill in the air, the thick winter quilts airing out on the laundry line are a sure sign that cold weather is ahead.  Is all this talk of winter making you feel cold?  Well, we'll just stop in to visit in this cabin.  I see smoke billowing out the chimney; a warm fire would be most welcome.  The housewife is busy about the cabin and is glad we stopped by; she says she'd appreciate it if we could watch her little one while she finishes up supper.  The men-folk of the area are all out getting the last of the hay bailed up, soon they'll be done and come looking for that big pot of black-eyed peas and sausage.  Hmm.... I can smell the cornbread; it's almost ready!

   It's such a peaceful life here; it's so sad to think of the changes that are coming.  On the other side of town the army has set up a recruitment office and all the young men, full of promise and potential are lined up to sign their names.  The loud boom of the canon is no less unsettling, every hour reminding us of those who will soon be marching off.  Heaven preserve us and bring them home safe!  With all the young men, brothers and fathers, headed off to war, the school-house has been closed; all the younger children who would have filled it with the sounds of laughter and sing-song chants of times tables are needed at home to help their Ma's run the farm.  

   I'm glad the little chapel is still open!  In times like these, such a place of solace is all the more dear.  Would you like to go there; there are some folks gathering up there to sing the praises of the Lord.  I hear the bell ringing now; they must be getting ready to start.  After all that singing, perhaps we could walk on down to the general store .  We can get some sasperilla, my treat, and sit around listening to the musicians gathered on the porch while we watch the sun going down over this fair little town.

To see images from this excursion, please visit http://sarahjaynesphotopage.shutterfly.com/

by SarahJayne

Making Butter

If you asked me 5 years ago if I would consider making my own butter, I would have looked at you like you'd grown a 3rd eye. Even a year ago I probably would have scoffed at you. Why would I want to make my own butter when I could buy it at the store?

When the activity came up for making butter, I still thought it was silly. After all, my dad had once told me that if you shake one of those little containers of creamer that it would turn into butter. I hate to admit it, but I shook and shook that thing and nothing ever happened.

Then I got the idea that I could use my Kitchenaid mixer to make butter. Why not? I did some googling and found that other people have done it before. I bought my cream and tried it. I felt a little like Laura Ingalls when Pa brought home the sewing machine and she thought of running the sheets through it instead of hand sewing them together with little tiny stitches. I'm sure my great-grandma rolled over in her grave, but that butter I made came out just like any other butter with a lot less work.

As a society, we need to know where our food comes from. I read an article in our local newspaper the other day that mentioned that kids think that apples come from the store, not a tree. I thought butter came from the store. Not really, but it doesn't hurt to take time to think about where things come from.

by a-chan 

From a churn to a mixer, what a difference a century makes!

picture by Hatsfineandfancy

When Grandma Cooked

Here is a poem written by my Great Great Uncle Clifford Tremain.  I don't have a date for when he wrote it but I'm guessing 1950's, early 60's... reminiscing about his childhood. It was just found by a historian and published recently  in the Cambridge Advocate newspaper.
-HatsFineandFancy

When Grandma Cooked
When Grandma cooked for the threshing gang
In the days of long ago,
She didn’t have water hot and cold
Right at her elbow.

She carried the water from a spring
About half a mile away,
And didn’t join a bridge or social club
To pass the time away.

She had to split her own firewood
To make the kettle boil,
For there wasn’t any such thing
As electricity, gas or oil.

Now besides these little chores or tasks
That she had to do,
With one hand as she went past
She rocked the cradle too.

The vegetables must all be peeled
And ready for the pan,
For Grandma had never seen
The Modern old tin can.

Huge loaves of bread she had to bake
And pies and cookies too,
For it took an awful lot of grub
To feed that hungry crew.

A crock of butter she must churn
Besides the other fuss,
For in those days of do it yourself
There wasn’t any surplus.

She must go out and hunt the eggs
Before she made her cake,
And it would be superior
To any modern make.

And when the threshing had been done
And the gang had all been fed,
She would then the dishes wash
Without any modern dope,
 In a pan of suds made from
Good old home-made soap.

by Clifford Tremain, Hespeler Ontario