Collaborating with a Sister on Farm Memories

Collaborating with my sister on farm memories is proving to be delightful.  She is writing poetry and making sketches as well as paintings of life on the farm as we recall it.

Although we live in different states, we do a great deal of mailing of thoughts, sketches, photos and family history back and forth.  I feel it's important that we compile this information for our families and future generations.

I write about some of this on my blogs, as well as including some of these thoughts in my "Country Kitchen" column for the McKenzie River Reflections newspaper in Oregon.

Currently we're working on:

• A history booklet of our farm
• Seasonal memories
• Poetry and paintings about the family farm
• People important to our youth on the farm

You need not be writing about a farm, simply about your childhood home or homes, the village where you grew up, the school you attended, friends you remember.

Developing a Family Farm History Booklet

I've developed a farm history booklet for my husband's home where he grew up.  I got the idea from some articles my mother-in-law wrote about life on the farm as the eight boys were growing up.  She wrote them just for memories.  However, a friend suggested she send them to the local newspaper which had a memories section.  The paper published the articles in eight segments.

Her friend Ginny cut the articles out, made photocopies, then put them into a booklet for Mum to give each family for Christmas.  Over the years, all the families except my husband and me (I'm a packrat when it comes to family memorabilia!) had lost or mislaid the booklets.

So I decided to make copies, add a history of the farm given to Mum by former owners,  and include photos of the farm.  I discovered they were very popular among Mum's children, grandchildren, great grandchildren and friends.  So I need to make more in which I'll also include copies of two paintings I've done of the farm.

My Own Childhood Farm

"Why don't you make a booklet of the farm where you grew up?" a distant cousin asked.   "I'd like a copy."

So now I'm digging out from my files my parents' reminiscences (I got them to write down some of their memories before they passed away) and old deeds which record my dad's purchase of the farm and deeds of former owners.   I'll include some articles and poems I've written about the farm, along with photos and the copy of a painting I've done.  My sister also has made sketches of the family farm.

Record Your Memories

Record your memories of growing up on a farm or your current experiences there for children, grandchildren and their descendants.  It's an enjoyable project.

Baby Chicks in the Mail

Baby chicks in the mail!  These fluffy yellow peeps came in a sturdy cardboard box separated into 4 sections.  Father picked them up at the local post office, where they arrived from the chick supplier.

This was an exciting time as we placed them in a larger containment in the brooder house, under a hood with heating lights.  However, if it was too cold outside, my parents might place them in a large container in our farmhouse kitchen untill the weather changer.

I didn't realize this practice (baby chicks in the mail) still existed.  However, on a stop at our local post office in spring, I heard a peeping sound.  I inquired and discovered, YES, baby chick still arrived in the mail.

Forsythia for Memories

When the forsythia bush in our yard blooms brightly, nostalgic memories of my childhood, as well as building this home, come to mind. Both are connected because the flowers bloom from the same parent bush.
After my family and I built and moved into this New Hampshire home, my dad decided we needed forsythia from the farm where I’d grown up in the Hudson River Valley of New York State. He dug up shoots of forsythia to plant here. We even have photos of Father and Jim planting this bush 27 years ago.

Forsythia of Childhood

I relate to my daughter and grandchildren tales about the forsythia of my childhood, from which our bush originated. That original bush was located at the end of the wrap-around front porch of our farmhouse. It grew very large and generally had many blooms. Mother often brought branches inside to brighten the house.

When my parents moved to a smaller house across the highway, Father transplanted some of the forsythia to that front yard. It must have been a hearty bush for it did well there, too, providing bright spring color.

At one time, we thought the transplant to NH wasn’t going to survive. So our daughter and her husband bought another forsythia for me one Mother’s Day. This, too, grew into a large bush and has many bright yellow blooms this year.

Forsythia Evokes Memories

Forsythia was’t my favorite flower, although I’ve always enjoyed the spots of sunshine it presented around the countryside in spring. However, because of the memories these bushes evoke in my present yard, it has much more meaning nowadays than exotic or expensive flowers.

Do you have favorite flowers that bring back memories? Is there a flower of significance in your life that will create memories for future generations?

“Why not make an album of favorite flowers and write down your memories?” a friend suggested. That’s a thought that has me looking through my scrapbooking supplies to create a floral memory album.

 
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Grandpa's Blacksmith Shop

The small building behind our farmhouse consisted of the wood house and Grandpa's blacksmith shop.  The main portion, where Grandpa fired up his forge and hammered out horseshoes and other items for farm use, was two story.  The woodhouse seemed sort of an afterthought build onto this.

The upstairs was somewhat of a storage area, although we children sometimes played up there.  I never gave it much thought, why the building had two stories.  However, in later years, a family friend said he'd heard that small building was the original house, where the family lived until the larger main house was built.

I do recall watching Grandpa, who died when I was four years old, hammer the red hot horseshoes into shape on his forge.  He also used bellows to fan the coals hotter and brighter. 

I still have one of the horseshoes Grandpa made.  Actually he made it into a door knocker for the kitchen door of our farmhouse.  It's attached to a metal backing.  When you lift the horseshoe and let it drop onto the metal, the sound could be heard within the house.  I don't have a place to attach it to a door in our current house, but keep it as a fond memento.

Books About Your Farming Heritage & Memories

Many people write about their childhoods on the farm or their current farming experiences.  Those I've seen are written for more than family memories.  However, start with recording for your farming heritage for your family and then find if others might be interested, too.

If, like in my husband's family, there are a number of children (eight boys), then there will be an extended number of family members who would like a copy of these memoirs.  In fact, my mother-in-law wrote a six-part series for the local newspaper about living on the farm as the boys were growing up.  A friend compiled these articles into a booklet for Mum to give as Christmas gifts to each of the eight.  It's something we treasure and which I think of reissuing, with photos, because the grandchildren and great grandchildren have expressed interest.

Some published books about farm life:


Next Year Country by Lorney Faber
Remembering the Farm by Allan Anderson
Down on the Farm: Childhood Memories of Farming in Canada by Jean Cochrane
Pictures from the Farm: An Album of Family Farm Memories by John Allen
This Old Farm: A Treasury of Family Farm Memories by Roger Welsch

Are you writing your family memories?  If you live on a farm, do you keep a journal?  After I married and lived half way across the country from the family farm, my mom wrote me letters about their activities.  Some were very humorous and others simply a daily accounting.  But I've kept those letters and should compile the anecdotes into a booklet for family members.

Apple Time Memories on the Farm

Apple time meant hours in the orchard when I was growing up. Although Father was a dairy farmer, he also operated an orchard and grew apples to sell. One of my tasks was going to the orchard after school and on weekends to pick apples for our use and to send to market.


The views from the orchard were spectacular since it was near the top of the "Big Hill" on our farm. From there we could view the Hudson River Valley in the distance and, on clear days, the Catskill Mountains west of the river.

Father initially purchased a second farm adjoining ours.  It had an old orchard, but the trees did produce.  There were old varieties including Baldwins.  Father decided to expand and planted 500 trees in the next field which was on our original farm on the "Big Hill."  These consisted or Red and Yellow Delicious, Mcintosh and Cortlands.

From somewhere he purchased a sprayer pulled behind the tractor.  He learned about apple growing and marketing and did most of that work himself.  It was his hobby turned productive.

In the fall, the rest of the family was recruited as we picked and picked and picked.  A neighbor lady, named Kate, came each fall to pick apples.  Kate did housework and yard work for various people to earn her living.  She seemed to enjoy climbing up the ladder into the trees and picking apples.

When apple time comes around each fall, my apple memories surface.  The hard work translated into the work ethic instilled into farm children of those days. 

You also might want to check out: Apples, Apples Everywhere - Favorite Recipes from America's Orchards.

Garden Gathering Time

As summer came to a close, we were furiously gathering goodies from the garden (a large one at the far end of the house) to enjoy, but also to preserve for winter food.  Much of our food was grown on the farm.  We purchased very little if we could raise it ourselves.

Mother and we girls were canning tomatoes which we enjoyed stewed throughtout the cold weather months.  Potatoes were dug and put into the bin in the cellar.  Pumpkins and squash soon would follow.  The last of the cucumbers we made into pickles.

The beans had been canned with a few pickled as a special treat.  Sweet corn had been cut from the cob and canned. Beets were pulled, then canned or pickled.

The garden was becoming bare and we looked forward to plentiful meals during the winter.

(Image: sxc.hu)

Preserving Summer's Bounty
Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving
5-Piece Home Canning Kit
7-Piece Home Canning Set

Memories of Our Farm Produce Stand

As summer rolls along, sweet corn season approaches. Even though we may have purchased some at the store before this, nothing equals that found at a farm produce stand or right from our own garden. Corn crunched off the cob is delicious, something we look forward to each summer.

I'm also reminded of the years of my childhood on the farm, when we children operated a sweet corn stand along the highway in front of our house. Extra corn raised in the garden, that we didn't eat and Mother didn't can, we sold there. As we children became old enough, it was our job to wait on the customers.

We even made the signs. One year, customers called Mother's attention to a sign crayoned on cardboard, "Corn for Sail." She didn't tell us until some time later because she didn't want to discourage us in our venture. Also, this sign probably brought in more customers.

Our stand consisted only of a small table, money box, and baskets of corn.  Nothing fancy.  But it brought in grocery money (for items not raised on the farm) and for other small essentials.  We children didn't get the money for ourselves.  It was a family affair and all shared.  Friends looked forward to our sweet corn each year. 

We sometimes sold other produce, but mainly sweet corn.

Do you have farm produce stand memories?  And other farm memories?