GOOD BY FROM THE SIMPLE FARM GIRL

Hello neighbor, This will be the last post I will make to the Confessions of a Simple Farm Girl. Since I have graduated from high school and will soon be moving on to college, there is not much more I can think of to share of that little girl on the farm. Most of the rest of my life was quickly shared in the series about "becoming a teacher'' and I figure this is a good place to end this particular post. I want to thank all my neighbors who faithfully followed the farm stories. I hope you will look for my new posts on FB "Sometimes I wonder about things". These will be various things that pop up in my memory or I come across that I want to share. Again thank you for reading. From a simple farm girl.

B-O-Y-S

When I wrote about my transferring from the one-room school house to high school, I didn’t talk about boy/girl things. So before I move on to the next step in my life, I thought perhaps I ought to mention something about boys. After all,  those years in high school usually involve boy/girl stuff.

Well, to be honest with you (confessions, right?) I did not have any interest in any of the boys at our high school. I don’t have any great reason to give,  I just didn’t seem to be interested.  They  were just classmates to me.

I did have guys that I saw on occasions as a  boy/girl thing. These are the fellows that I met at the dances where my Mom and Dad played. There were always a few teen age guys around and you get to meet them and dance with them.  Sometimes, a couple of them who were sort of buddies, would ask me and another girl if they could drive us home. And surprisingly, my Dad would allow them to take us home. These were not really serious relationships, just a little snuggling on the way home.  As I look back on those nights, I am quite surprised that the ones I were with never tried to  do or suggest anything more.

That is strange to me, because as I grew older I used to “hate” teen age boys. But I guess this really comes from watching movies about teenagers and the girl/boy stuff in the movies always turned me off on teen age boys. But in real life, at least in mine, they were nothing like those in the movies. Thank God  for that. So I made it through those years without having the “heartbreaks” that I suppose many girls went through. So I just moved on after graduation and into college.

MOVING ON FROM THE ONE ROOM SCHOOL HOUSE

It’s time for the simple little farm girl to move on. She has graduated from the eighth grade at the one room school house. Now we’ll follow her as she continues her life not as a little girl, but becoming a young woman and yet, still that simple farm girl inside.

Well, I have graduated from the one room school house and will move on to high school.  When Sept. comes again, the bus will go by the end of the driveway and keep going on to the one room school where the driver will drop off the elementary kids and pick up the high schoolers that gather at the corner.  The bus will stop at my driveway on the way back and I will climb on board and ride 8 to 10 miles to the next town and to Winthrop High School where I will spend the next four years of school.

Winthrop High School was a whole lot different than the one room school house.  It had a big gym on the bottom floor and a balcony where we could stand and watch the games being played. The class rooms were on the next floor. There were many more kids than we had my other school. I am a simple farm girl and this was a big change for me, especially getting to know so many other kids.

It was hard for me to get close to many of the other classmates because I did not have much connection with them.  Many of them lived in town or close enough to do things together. I arrived on the bus shortly before school started and left by bus after classes ended. So there was not an opportunity for me to build close friendships with the others.

Sports were out of my school life, both practice and participating in games.  Once in a while I might make it to a game. I did take part in some activities that were part of the school schedule such as singing in the Mozart Choir and playing the trombone in the band.  I liked these two as music was a part of me as my father was a great musician.   Sometimes we went on trips and that was usually a lot of fun. One of the biggest trips was playing in a parade in Boston, MA. I did not care for the times when we had to get up in front of the class for reports, etc.  Being as shy as I was this was always a chore for me.

Well the years went by and soon it was Senior year.  I was pretty good at subjects that would be good for an office job. I had not even thought about attending college, due to money not being very available. Some colleges sent brochures to the school telling what they had to offer. I don’t know why I looked at them, but I did.  There was one from a place called Mt Ida outside of Boston. They offered a plan where the student could live with a family and help the family for their board and room. That meant only tuition would be the cost. So we checked this out and it seemed a possibility that we could manage that. And it did.

Update for this blog

Hello neighbor Welcome.
I have just about finished writing the things I remember as a little girl living on the farm.  We just had the memorial service for my Mom who passed away on Nov. 17 at the grand old age of 102.  We flew to Maine to hold the service in the big old church that my Mom loved so much. I did the service and we  had a great time remembering and sharing memories about Mom. It was so great to see people I had not seen since I went to the one room school house. Most of my Mom's grandchildren from my sister who passed away at the age of 48 were there. So we had some great sharing times. After the service we went to the farm, with the permission of the now owners, and spread my mother's ashes in the very same spot where we spread my Dad's, over the place where he buried the dogs as they left us. That was a neat time, returning Mom back to the farm that she loved so much and to be with Dad again. So that sort of brings being on the farm to an end.  But not to the simple farm girl that lived there.  I am still that little girl, just a grown up size. So I  intend to keep writing from time to time and will continue to share the life of this little girl as she grew into an adult with the simple farm still in her. Hope you will continue stopping by when you can and perhaps checking out my new blog that I have just introduced - "Sometimes I wonder about things".
Stop by again and see how this little farm girl continued into becoming an adult farm woman like my Mom did.

SAPPING TIME ON THE FARM

Hello Neighbor, glad you stopped by.

When it gets around February or March, depending on the temperature and weather, one gets to thinking that it's time to think about home made maple syrup.  It is not an easy or quick job to do, but it sure is worth the effort.

First of course you need to have a number of good big maple trees. The farm house had some nice old ones that were around the yard, and there were others not too far away.  First step was to put in some kind of  spout for the sap  to drip out of the tree and into a bucket.  The early ones were carved out of a piece of wood and had a small hole drilled into it.  When we lived on the farm we were able to buy spouts from the hardware store. Much easier by far.  Anyway, these spouts would be pounded into the side of the maple tree and a bucket would be hung on a hook so the sap could drip, drip, drip into the bucket. The bucket would be collected at the end of the day and the sap poured into a container.

I remember that out back of the farm house someone, my Dad built this cooking place. The fireplace would be made of rocks on three sides with an opening on one end to put in the wood to burn.  Then a long flat tin pan that was three to four feet long and a couple of feet wide would be set on top of the rock fire place.  A fire would be started and kept burning to keep the pan hot.  What sap was gathered would be poured into the pan to get hot and steamy. It would take a lot of sap and a lot of wood to keep it cooking.

As the sap cooked it would begin to change from the watery stage to the thicker stage.  Once it was on the way to becoming syrup, most of the sap would be steamed away and there would be only a small batch of syrup.  From the fireplace, the syrup would be taken into my grandmother's kitchen and put into a pot on the wood stove to finish cooking away the watery part until it became real maple syrup.  Boy oh boy, it was a lot of work, but my oh my, nothing tasted better than home made maple syrup.

Stop by again some time and we will have another chat.

MMM-MMM HOME MADE BUTTER

Hello neighbor, glad you stopped by.

Have you ever had home made butter?  It is the best. No wonder I like butter on everything. This is the way it works.

In my grandmother's kitchen at the end of the counter was this gadget, called a separator, that was used to strain the milk. Of course this milk is right from the cow kind, not that cooked kind.  This gadget had a big metal bowl on top where the milk was poured into.  I remember that there was this metal thing that had 10 or so discs and each one had a hole in it and these had to be lined up just right.  When the machine was working, the discs would spin and somehow that would separate the cream from the milk. There were two spouts so that the cream would flow out of one spout and the left over milk out of the other. It was the cream that we used to make the butter.

So first you milked the cow and then you separate the cream from the milk.  When you had enough cream we would then get the butter churn.  We had two different types. One was just a small wooden one that had batters inside and we would turn the handle to make the batters work in the cream until it began to separate and you could  hear the butter begin to form. The other was a large wooden barrel with a top that was clamped down. With this one we would turn the whole barrel over and over until you could hear the butter as it began to separate from the milk. It would make a splashing sound.  Be sure you have clamped the top down good and tight or you would have a big accident.

Once the butter was completely separated, the next step was to collect it out of the butter milk (that was what the milk was called after it was separated). My grandmother had a big wooden spatula that she would work the butter to get all the butter milk out of the butter.  Salt would also be added as the butter was worked.

When this process was done, the next step was to package it.  I remember doing this step, too.  There was a special kind of paper that you would wet it and lay it on the table and smooth it out.  Then there was a small wooden container that  was put together.  The bottom piece had designs in it and there were two sides that fit around the bottom piece and hooked in place.  After that was put together a lump of butter would be put in the box and with the wood spatula the butter would be pressed down until the box was filled.  With the spatula you would smooth the butter nice and even.

Then you would take off the sides of the box and place the butter down in the middle of the wet paper and carefully life off the wooden bottom piece.  Then you would wrap the butter in the wet paper and set it a side to dry. And that was how we made our butter.

Some times we had so many lbs. of butter that Mom would take it to one of the small local stores and sell it to them. I expect with all the health rules, etc. that would not be allowed today. I guess if you had your own cows you could make some for yourself.  Then there is the shake a bottle kind of butter by buying some cream and put it in a bottle and just keep shaking it. A good project for kids to do.

Well, that's the way we did it on the farm.  Stop by again and maybe we just might have some.

MY MOM, A FARM WOMAN

Hello neighbor, Glad you stopped by.

When my grandfather bought a farm outside the small town of North Wayne, Maine, my father and mother, along with me,(a baby), and my mother's brother, all moved with them. They had lived in a larger town and so living on 140  acres of land was quite different.

My mother took to the farm naturally it seems. She loved having cows and milking them. Mom would say how peaceful it was to sit on a milk stool with her head resting on the side of the cow and just relaxing as she milked the cow, listening to the chewing of the cow's cuds as they ate their hay, watching the barn cats as they sat around waiting for some fresh milk in their dishes.

My mother also loved hens and chickens, not one of my favorites, but they supplied eggs and meat.
Mighty handy to have around a farm when money was short. Watching hens set on their eggs and waiting for the little peep peeps as the little chicks pecked their way out of the egg.

Gardening was a big part of farm work. Growing most of our vegetables added much to our meals. Mom also went strawberry and blackberry picking.My mother sure loved that farm. Growing vegetables was a necessity, but my Mom loved growing flowers. My Dad built her a small hot house so she would have a place to plant and grow her flowers. She especially liked planting little Geranium seeds. She like seeing the seeds begin to grow and get little curly leaves. She thought they looked so cute. My Mom would use anything she found no matter how small it was to use as a planter. As long as you could get some dirt in it for a seed it was usable.

So for many years my folks lived off the farm and the wood land. Then came the day my father passed away at 89 and that changed farming on the farm. My mother wanted to stay on the farm
for a few years, so we said "OK" as along as all goes well. Came the time when my mother had to leave the farm. it sure wad not a fun time for her. But that's life.

When we moved to Virginia, my mother ended up at Fairmont, a care place just about five minutes from our place. You can take the woman out of the farm, but not the farm out of the woman. She still would find a little container that something came in, maybe a dressing, etc.. and show it to me and say "You  could plant something in this". There was is a great group of women who would come in with loads of flowers and each resident could put together a bouquet for their room. My mother always loved her bouquet of flowers.

My Mom sure loved her corn on the cob. Everyone got a kick out of how her eyes would light up when she was handed an ear of corn.  They would have a big crate of corn and everyone pitched in to shuck the ears.  Quite often I would buy an ear of corn and cook it up and wrap it in  wax paper with butter and take it up to her.  Boy it was better then a million dollars to see her chomp on that ear of corn with her worn out teeth from all her years of eating.

That special farm woman celebrated her 102nd birthday on Oct. 14. But Mom had already decided that she had lived long enough and it was time for her to go see Jesus. So mom went to bed and did not get up again. She slept through her birthday party that we had. She just kept waiting for Jesus to come. Three days later, as she lay peacefully sleeping, Jesus came and took her home to that big farm in the sky.  I was so glad that God was so good to take her so soon and that she no longer has to sit in that wheel chair. I am happy now knowing that she has gone to a better place.

Maybe you will stop by again for another chat.