The year was 1962…a mere fifty-one years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday. The thermometer mercury (yes, we actually used mercury back then) dipped to -12° and the wind was whipping the thirty seven inches of snow we had into strange collection of one inch here and seventy two inches in other places. You can bet that I’m going to tell you that most of the places that were one inch we insignificant places like fields or peoples yards and the places that were in the six foot range were of course…on a road or near a buildings door. If there ever was a bare spot near a door or roadway, it was probably overlooked and forgotten in lieu of the many obstructed places. The time for the school bus had come and gone…obvious to us that they would never make it to our little village, let alone have school at all. After all, they were calling for another eleven inches during the day and into that night. It was only a week before Christmas…much like this year and we would have soon been on Christmas break anyway. I remember asking Mom why they just didn’t announce that school would be closed until the New Year due to the heavy snow accumulations this year. She said they probably would if it wasn’t for parents going crazy and killing a school board member for doing so. Back then you could joke about things…never worrying about political correctness…heck; we weren’t politicians anyway, so we didn’t worry about anything political.
I remember eating a big bowl of Maypo
and then pulling on almost every piece of clothing I owned, along with my boots, coat, scarf and gloves. Out I went into the blistering, frigid cold and wind of the day…heading through the deep snow, making my way to the privy, better known to most as the outhouse. It’s funny now…how you had to bundle up for the trip through the back yard and upon arriving at the privy, you had to remove almost all your clothes to quickly relieve yourself and compete for the fastest dresser competition or freeze to the wooden seat. Jeeze um, I remember that it wasn’t so funny back then, especially when you really had to go until you sat down over that hole with the cold wind coming up out of there. That…kind of made you forget why you were there in the first place.
Ahhh, the good ol’ days! Snow sifting around loose fitting windows that rattled…pulling your clothes in under the covers to warm them before dressing…putting haps up over doorways to keep heat in a central room during the day…sitting around a kerosene space heater to stay warm and dressing like you were outside to remain comfy inside, were all a part of the early sixties. It was brutal, but we were conditioned! We could venture out to hunt in deer season and withstand the elements for long periods of time before fancy insulated clothing was invented. Our boots were five buckle arctic’s...
not the thinsulate boots of today. Woolrich clothing was for the elite folks who could afford it…we simply went out in the same “piled on” clothing we used to make our trip to the privy with the exception of a bright red square of wool pinned to our backs under our hunting license, in hope of other hunters seeing the red and not shooting us. Oh, such wonderful, fond memories of years gone by, fun and survival…and spending time with dearly departed family members and friends…
And then I revert back to this morning…awaking in my warm Queen size bed with lots of warm and fuzzy blankets covering me and the room warmed by a gas fireplace upstairs. The thought of coming down the stairs to a warm and cozy downstairs warmed by a pellet stove is great and looking out the window at the snow doesn’t really bother me all that much. After all, I will don my warm clothing and jump on my new tractor to clear the snow. Then come back into my warm house and sit in front of the pellet stove to warm up and sip coffee. I guess it’s still the good ol’ days after all…
Our only customers at the farm and fiber shop yesterday...
Best picture to appreciate the accumulation...
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071478 Cluckin' "A" Critter Farm, LLC
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