I think I know how Dorothy felt in the Wizard of Oz when she said, "We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto!" One day our life was city lights, nice restaurants, taps that gushed hot or cold water, furnaces with thermostats, and toilets that flushed. The next day, it was acres of solitude, water hauled from a well, a ravenous woodstove that gobbled firewood, and a drafty old outhouse. Can you say 'culture shock'?
We managed to get the Franklin woodstove with its black stove pipes installed. It looked so picturesque sitting on its brick hearth, with doors you could fold back to enjoy the view of a crackling fire. And it was wonderfully warm! As long as you weren't more than five feet away from it. It literally did gobble up wood. All through the long winter nights ahead, we'd take turns getting up every 2 hours to feed its bottomless pit of a firebox. And during the days - cut and chop wood, haul, burn. Repeat. Endlessly. That first year we used deadwood, old stacks of lumber, anything lying around that was aged. But a nice fire is more 'romantic' I've decided, if there's a furnace for backup when the fire goes out! In time, we'd get quite used to it, once we installed 2 high efficiency box woodstoves which nicely heated the house, and burned for several hours. But that first winter! I think we must have complained a time or two......
Close to Christmas, we received a package from some city friends. Inside were two hot water bottles, personalized: "IDIOT ONE and IDIOT TOO". They came with instructions: 'Fill with hot water. Clutch tightly. Get in car. Return to city.' Very funny! But we certainly used them many a time.
Drawing all our water from the well was, of course, another big adjustment. Aside from all the regular water requirements, there was Laundry Day. Thanks to Joe's folks, we had an old wringer washing machine. Fill it up, one pail at a time. Wash. Empty. Wring clothes. Fill it up again. Rinse. Wring Clothes. (A definition of absurd might be two grown men fighting over who gets to use the wringer.) Finally, hang all the clothes on lines by the old outhouse.
And speaking of the outhouse! Getting used to that in minus20C weather was no sweet thing! On the outside of ours, there was a 'turney-do' latch used to hold the door shut when you left. I was in there one frigid night when the latch somehow fell into place. I couldn't get out! Joe finally came looking for me, almost an hour later. I swear I didn't warm up for a week. And I didn't appreciate his phoning and telling everyone about it while laughing his head off, either.
Our first cows had arrived, and when the time came, we put them in the big old barn. Remember it? It collapsed in the first big winter storm. How it fell was extremely lucky for us. The huge, hand-hewn timbers that supported the first floor did not fall, in the area we were using, and with some desperate emergency patching, we were able to make it through the winter. Adjusting to caring for them was another hurdle to overcome. Shovelling..... um....... manure - everyday. Spreading fresh straw, feeding.
And then there was the watering. There was no water in the barn. On the very coldest days, we carried pail after endless pail from the well. But most of the time we turned them out, and they soon learned to head straight to the back pond to drink. This usually required chopping a big hole in the ice. We'd take turns, one of us heading to the pond with an axe, the other to the barn, to release the cows. Four times over our years on the farm, it ended with my getting knocked into the frigid water by the thirsty cows. I kid you not! Your heavy winter clothes drenched and freezing, the mad dash back to the house..... stripping, shivering, practically making love to the woodstove in an attempt to melt the ice crystals in your blood. Ah, the good ole days.
Our third closest neighbors, Bob and Janet, lived about an hour's walk up the road. They were also 'newcomers'. Having our newness in common, we soon became fast friends and helped each other out many times over the next few years. But we almost blew that friendship the first Christmas!
We had to have a Christmas tree, of course. Bob told us of a good place to cut one (not legally, but in the country everyone did it). So we went one day with our trusty saw, walked in to this lovely stand of evergreens, and there on the ground was a tree already cut. We assumed someone had cut it, then changed their minds and chosen another. It looked great to us, flawless in fact, so we lugged it out, put it on top of the car and away we went.
A few days later, the tree was up when Bob and Janet dropped in to see how we were doing. They admired the tree. Then Bob told us how he had gone in and cut a tree himself, the other day. He'd left it there, planning to pick it up on his way back from a trip to town. However, when he returned the damn tree was gone!
Joe and I just looked at each other. Thank gawd we hadn't explained how we got ours. And we never did.
Speaking of Christmas, hands up all those who remember when macrame was the 'in thing'. It was then. Having no spare cash for presents, I taught myself from instructions in a magazine, how to make macrame plant hangers. Joe made little wooden discs to decorate them, sanded and varnished. And that's what everyone got from us for Christmas!
Dawg quickly established the habit of following us everywhere. If we went two separate directions to do different chores, he'd trot back and forth between us. He loved being in the barn and lording his freedom over the confined cows. I think he was a in reality, a snob. When they, or any other farm animals in the future, were outside, he totally ignored them. In his mind it seemed, they were clearly inferior beings. He seemed to want it to be clear that he belonged on the other side of the fence - with Joe and me.
The snows were light that first December. But come January, we faced blizzard after blizzard. Our tractor, Diva, was coaxed into action and we quickly learned that our beautiful, long laneway was going to be a major challenge to keep cleared. Diva liked to go about half way down the lane blowing snow, and then pause for a rest. Perhaps after fifteen minutes of screaming and cursing at her, she would deign to start again. One trip all the way down the lane, and one trip back created just a wide enough path for vehicles. We felt lucky if Diva managed that in anything less than three chilly hours.
The tiny puffball chicks we'd brought with us grew quickly and we eventually moved them into the smaller barn. Having had success with them, we thought it would be a good idea to raise some geese the same way the following spring. NOT a good idea!
Goslings grow very quickly, but they need warmth while young which meant keeping them in the house. Do you know how much a goose poops? Now multiply that by twelve. And they never shut up! Even when you scream at them at three o'clock in the morning. Which we did. It was a very happy day when they too were mature enough to move to the barn.
We had lots of visitors that winter, but because we could not heat the entire house with our 'all talk, no action' woodstove, they had to be restricted to day trips. One afternoon, I was outside cutting wood when Dawg suddenly started barking like crazy, and then took off at a gallop.
Looking towards the lane, I could see two grey haired ladies in fur coats, dressed to the nines, purses slung over their arms. Upon hearing, and seeing Dawg, they froze - and then turned and began to run in a panicked, shuffling kind of way. Thinking they must be relatives of Joe's I took off running after Dawg, hollering at the ladies to stop, he wouldn't hurt them. By the time I got to them, all three of us panting and wheezing, Dawg was happily sniffing away and being his usual friendly self. But I was baffled. Our front gate was locked because we did not entirely trust the cows not to wander down that way. That meant that these ladies had clambered over the steel gate and walked all the way in, in the snow.
Can you guess who they were?
Jehovah's Witnesses!
There was nothing for it but to invite them up to the house to get warm and have a cup of tea. That friendly gesture ensured that they would return every year thereafter, although they would switch to summertime. Joe and I have a 'live and let live' attitude. We had no interest in what they were offering. But I tell you - if two grey haired gals in their fifties were going to climb a gate and walk all the way in to 'spread the good word', well - you had to admire the gumption. Also of course, we realized they were very curious about our 'interesting' relationship. I bet they had a blast on the gossip circuit later. We didn't mind, and even came to look forward to their visits because they weren't at all shy about telling us all the gossip about our neighbors. Let me tell you, Peyton Place is alive and well in rural Canada!
In February, we had a thaw followed by a fast freeze up which created a perfect skating rink on the flooded creek not too far from the house. With the crystal-clear blue ice , trees, shrubs and fences coated with dripping silver lace, the snow sparkling like millions of tiny diamonds, on that brilliant day Old Man Winter was done up like a drag queen on speed.
I love to skate, but Joe, quite surprisingly, never had. So we borrowed a pair of skates from our neighbor for him. I have a photo from that day. He's all bundled up and standing still, looking quite ridiculously uncomfortable. He didn't so much skate as walk around gingerly on the blades while I gleefully tormented him with my astonishing ability to move both feet swiftly. For some reason, he was not impressed, and told me to go do something quite physically impossible to myself.
But it was exhilarating to have stolen a few hours purely for fun. In the future, we'd remember that day and every once in awhile, just say 'to hell with everything' and do something for the pure joy of it. Time out for the soul.
At last, the long winter began to slowly surrender its icy grip under the warm gaze of an April sun. Then came one of those magical days when Spring arrived, dressed in all the finery she possessed. Blue skies, a bonnet of sunshine, and a flirty skirt of green above peeks at petticoats of old snow. We stood and marvelled at the day.
"Bill, do you realize what this means?" Joe asked.
"What?"
"It means winter is over - and we made it through!" With a whoop of pure delight, he wrapped his arms around me and whirled me around. And then we just stood there..... transfixed by the joy of that singular moment in time. Perhaps as triumphs go, it was a small one, but not to us.
By now you may be wondering how two dummies like us ever survived. We may have been naive, even ingenuous. But we were not entirely stupid. We had two aces up our sleeves - two cards to play which would, as long as we worked very hard, ensure our success. If you want to know what they were though, you'll have to come back next week. :>)
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A couple more pics for now.... the first is little Sarah and me circa 1973 on the porch. (Apologies to those expecting Jake Gyllenhaal) The second is Dawg with 2 barn cats that 'adopted' him.
I also apologize for the quality of many of the photos. We were using a little Fiesta camera my parents gave me when I was 15!
