Blog : My Early Years on the Farm

Blogs > spiritwoman45 > Life in the Canyon

22314 posts
11/21/2013 7:28 pm

My Early Years on the Farm

As promised (or threatened) this is the second installment of my life story.

For a / pre schooler living on a farm, close to nature was about as close to heaven as it gets. My closest sister is about 4 years younger than me so I was either the only one or the one who got to play with the adults because I was old enough. I was also the first girl in the extended family. My older cousins were all boys. Although there were a few blue eyes here and there I was the only blond. Quite a novelty and a little princess.

The immediate household consisted of my maternal grandparents, my mother, my father on and off and various relatives and hired hands. There was my uncle Harry who had early onset Parkinson’s. He lived with my grandparents and helped with the farm work as he could. Jimmy was an alcoholic neighbor’s that my grandparents hired part time when he was in high school then full time once he graduated. Johnny, another uncle and Leno, a friend from Italy my grandparents sponsored lived with us and worked the farm. Various other relatives were in and out. If someone in the extended family had a problem they came to the farm and helped out while they worked things out. There was always room for one more and any extra help was appreciated. Maybe this is where the term “funny farm” comes from. There were also seasonal “hired hands”.

As soon as it was physically possible someone always had me with them doing interesting things like muck around in the barn when they did the milking and tended to the chores. I would ride with the men on the tractors when they did the haying. There is a great pic of me somewhere in my storage that shows me ridding on the back of the manure spreader like it was Cinderella’s coach and another of me around age 3 milking a cow on the special appropriate sized milking stool my grandfather made me. He also modified a pitch fork to my size so I could pitch hay with him and a “scraper” so I could clean the barn (A more delicate way of saying “shoveling s@@t). I remember going with him to his black smith shop and watching him work with metals and sharpen the mowing machine blades and to the out buildings to repair and care for various pieces of equipment..

The property had once been a lime plant until it went bankrupt in the Depression. My grandparents bought the entire property for back taxes and began farming. There was the abandoned office complete with desk and papers and abandoned kilns complete with sledge piles. There was still a railroad stop there and I remember learning to tell the steam engines from the coal burners by the color of the smoke and recognizing the diesel passenger train. There were also 3 abandoned lime stone quarries that had filled up with spring water. One was used as a trash dump. It was around 200 feet deep so no problem with room. One was small and had a gradual incline on one end, probably where the cars of lime stone were brought out. This was called “the new quarry” and since it had a shallow someone occasionally took me swimming there. One of my earliest traumas was getting a blood sucker (leach) there and watching in horror as someone pulled it off and left a big bloody mark.

There was gardening with my grandmother on a daily basis in the summer. I must have been pretty much allowed to roam free as I was told that I tried to eat a hot pepper off the plant and nearly choked to death when I was about 2. I would ride along in the truck to take the milk to the dairy every morning. I also got to ride with my grandmother when she did something exceptional for a woman in her day, occasionally taking the dump truck and hauling gravel for the town. I got to make rounds with her as she delivered baby animals and nursed sick ones. Somehow she always had time to take me to the brook to see the fish and / or toss pebbles in, take me sledding in the winter and walks in the woods to gather herbs and in the spring pick wild flowers. I sat and watched her as she prepared 3 huge meals a day for the hungry workers. I did not realize until I was grown what a remarkable woman she was and how fortunate I was to have her.

I always had pets - dogs, cats, rabbits, a duck, a chicken and probably others I can’t remember. I am told when my mother brought me “home” to the farm they put me in the basinet. My grandma’s “mama cat” immediately jumped up and claimed me. Since then I have never been without a cat. One of my uncles gave me a puppy, a springer spaniel, shortly after I learned to sit up and began my lifelong love affair with dogs.

Even with such an idyllic life my creativity and unconventionality showed itself early. I am told that one Sunday grandma noticed the few cars that ventured down our road slowing down. She went out to see what was going on and found me stark naked wallowing in the dirt in the front flower garden. When she asked me what I was doing I told her “dusting myself like the chickens.”

My father would joke with my Uncle Harry and tell him he needed to build him a new head. One day Uncle Harry found me in the garage (an 8 bay building complete with a work shop) trying to nail some boards together. He asked me what I was doing and I replied “Building you your new head.”

My intuitive and psychic skills were there too. I am told that my father only hit me once. He brought his father by to meet me. I was about 2. Grandpa picked me up and I spit in his face and simply stated “I know you don’t like me”. As far as anyone knew I had never seen or heard of spitting in someone’s face nor was given any reason to believe this grandfather did not like me but he didn’t like either or my father.

I handled my developmental tasks differently than most. This was likely the first signs of my ADD /dyslexia/neurological mis wiring. I have been told that I did not walk until I was about 15 months old, nor did I crawl. I moved about by rolling where I wanted to go. One day I simply got on my feet and walked, not toddling or stumbling but walking as if I had always done it. I did not start talking on schedule but when I finally did I was talking in sentences carrying on conversations within a week. I cannot help but think how in today’s conformance demanding world I would have been rushed from doctor to doctor rather than allowed to develop my brain naturally. Would I have been convinced I was a “victim”, forced to conform to doing things the prescribed way and never have been able to learn how my brain needed to do things?

Even though I had a rather unusual start in life my pre-school years and all of the attention and love I got from extended family more than made up for it. Although most of my old photos are in storage I found this one of me around 2 or 3 in my snow suit and boots. The old dump truck is in the background

Spiritwoman ^i^

1gasilverhead2 83M

4003 posts
11/22/2013 2:58 am

OH, the parallel of our memories you brought back to me growing up on the farm,,,,,thank you.

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The beginning of life, conception..

Hawkslayer 88M

13354 posts
11/22/2013 6:53 am

Interesting read and a cute picture..

Alfie...

It only takes a drop of ink to make a million people think. There are many stories.

spiritwoman45

11/22/2013 12:27 pm

Definitely all in the eye of the beholder. After all the cow poop is the fertilizer that makes the crops grow.

Spiritwoman ^i^

spiritwoman45

11/22/2013 12:27 pm

At this time in my life I doubt any child was happier or more content and why not. I had all of the love and positive attention anyone could ask for.

Spiritwoman ^i^

spiritwoman45

11/22/2013 12:28 pm