Father’s Day Flashback
Meet my dad. This one on the left is one of my favorite photos of him as a child. Of course, he doesn’t look very happy (but given that diaper, are you surprised?) The first time I saw this photo, I couldn’t understand how my grandma could let her kid play on a lawnmower. But look closely. It’s clearly built for children, but I’ve no idea what to call it. Suggestions?
My grandpa’s family hails from Freelandville, Indiana where I have a number of distant relatives still farming. Visiting the family farm where my grandfather grew up and my father spent his childhood summers was always a treat. As kids, we wore the blue and white striped overalls long before Osh Kosh B’Gosh became trendy kid wear. 
We played in corn harvesters, jumped from hay bail to hay bail, rode in huge farm equipment, teased goats, visited the baby pigs (And were corrected every time. Hogs, not pigs). But my favorite place of all was the chicken yard.
With a look of great tolerance, my distant great aunt would send my sister and me out to collect the fresh eggs (no doubt we ruined the egg collection for days). Then, when the task was done, we were finally allowed to put the chickens to sleep just like my father had taught us.
No. Not that kind of sleep.
As elementary school age kids, my sister and I ran beneath low-lying branches, scrambled behind bushes, caught the chickens one at a time. (Chickens are fast, they can turn on a dime, but we kept at it for as long as it took.)
We’d catch each chicken, gently tuck its head beneath a wing, gently clamp the wing down on its head, and swing the chicken slowly – back and forth like a pendulum. And the chicken would fall asleep. And stay asleep.
We lined them up, one at a time until only the swiftest of the swift chickens ran free. Then – as only grade school children can – we’d scream at the top of our lungs. All at once the chickens would jump up, squawking and clucking and running for cover.
So Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Thanks for the chicken lessons.
Bandstands
in Historical, Victorian
as bandstand, Sayre, Victorian, Waverly
I grew up in small town America. The oldest buildings here date to the Victorian era when Sayre, PA was a major railroad town. This bandstand, built in 1886, was painted white during my childhood and was a major destination during walks. At one point the bandstand had fallen into such disrepair that the platform [...]
What is an ‘Ell’?
in Historical, Writing
as deerfield, ell, old houses
What did a nineteenth century family do when they needed more space? Wanted to attach the house to the barn? Or wanted to keep the kitchen separate from the more formal dining room and parlor? They built an ell. It means exactly what it sounds like – the addition was built at a right angle [...]
Redware
in Historical, Writing
as kiln, Old Sturbridge Village, OSV, potter, pottery, Redware
In Wait for Their Return, my historical character needs appropriate dishes. Some of these dishes are made from redware, a kind of pottery that went into production in America in 1625. Redware was given its name because that was the color the clay turned after firing. The production of redware continued at high levels until [...]
Open Hearth Cooking
in Historical, Writing
as 1840, bake oven, Old Sturbridge, Old Sturbridge Village, open hearth cooking, OSV
Wait for Their Return incorporates a lot of historical facts from the 1830s. To get the details as accurate as possible, I spent a huge amount of time reading and researching. The library has seen a lot of me this past year. * I also made several trips to Sturbridge Village in order to get [...]
Soap, The Hard Way
in Historical, Writing
as ashes, lye, making soap, Old Sturbridge Village, old-fashioned soap, OSV, soap
I was at Sturbridge Village last weekend (detecting a theme?) and there happened to be two costumed interpreters making soap, the old way. In an earlier post, I mentioned that the ashes from all those wood fires were saved for making soap. I had a vague idea of the process, but took the opportunity to [...]