The hens are turned out for a few hours every fine day, but are carefully watched, for when the poults are young the mothers will hide them if possible. The coops, one for each brood, are 3 by 6 feet, 3½ feet high in front and 2½ feet in back, built of common boarding with shingled roof. The whole front is of screen wire, with a door that slips in and fastens with two buttons. The doorway must be so large that it will not touch the hen as she goes in and out. At night the hens and their broods are shut into these coops where they are safe from “varmints,” and during bad weather they may be kept in several days. They range as much as possible, however, for Mrs. Wilson finds they grow faster when allowed to run.
Healthy, vigorous parent stock is most important in raising turkeys, Mrs. Wilson says, and she does not use parent stock under two years old. For one of her toms she paid $200, and went herself to New York to get it. She counts it a profitable investment, for she sells young toms at $20 each, and eggs for hatching at $10 each. Most of her year’s profit—usually about $1,000—comes however, from the sale of fat turkeys for Christmas dinnertables.
But no investment in money will make success in turkey raising. Only ceaseless expenditure of time, attention and genuine interest in her turkeys has made Mrs. Wilson’s success possible. It is no wonder that confidential relations are established between her and her turkeys, for from the time of hatching they know her care. She has each one in her hands at least once a week while it is young, examining it for lice or signs of sickness; she vaccinates every one of them against blackhead; she makes a pet of each one, and as long as a turkey is on her farm she has it in her arms at least once a month.
As a Farm Woman Thinks (27)
February 1, 1924
The lotus is the sacred emblem of Buddhism, because in its rise from the bottom of ponds to the light and sweet air above where it puts forth its large green leaves and beautiful blossoms “it symbolizes triumph over self, extinction of the fires of passion, abnegation and self control.” It is a beautiful example of the growth of good with darkness and evil left behind. But this is accomplished only by a reaching upward and a striving toward the light— a longing for the pure air and sunshine.
The lotus gardens of Japan are renowned for their beauty. The plants have large corded, green leaves 2 feet across and wonderful blossoms that float above the water with the birds and butterflies in the sunshine. It is here that the women of Japan delight to spend their summer afternoons.
One cannot imagine the lotus sprouts crawling around on the bottom of the ponds without making the effort to rise higher into all this beauty and fragrance leaving the mud behind. There is a lesson for us all in this symbol of an old, old religion.
If we wish to help make beauty and joy in the world, living in it and becoming lovely ourselves, also, we must follow the example of the lotus and strive toward light and purity into the sunshine of the good.
As a Farm Woman Thinks (28)
March 1, 1924
“I would rather have made that pie than to have written a poem,” said Rose Wilder Lane, pausing midway of the triangular piece upon her plate. It was just a plain, farm apple pie, the kind we all make in Missouri. But listen! “Oh these Missouri pies,” exclaimed the other New York writer. “Never before have I seen such wonderful pies.”1
So it seems that the center of pie fame as well as the center of population has traveled westward for pie, you know, was a New England dish, not known anywhere else in the world. To this day it is made only in America. And speaking of pies and poems, the first pie as we know pie, invented by a New England woman, was a poem of love and service, full of imagination, spicy with invention. Oh, of course, what it was really filled with was something very common and homely, but I’ll tell you the tale as ’twas told to me and you shall decide if my description of that first pie as a poem does not hold good.
In one of the New England states away back in Colonial times, a pioneer woman one Saturday was cooking the Sunday dinner. She wanted a sweet meat for the ending but had nothing of which to make anything of the kind she ever had seen. But she did want to please and satisfy the good man and the children, so using her imagination and Yankee invention, she made a dough with bear’s grease for shortening, spread it in a pan and filled it with a mixture of vinegar and water thickened with flour, sweetened with maple sugar and flavored with a bit of spice bush.
FIRST AMERICAN PIE
She baked it and behold, the first American pie! In fact, it was the first pie, spicy and sweet, of custard-like consistency and crispy crust, a poem in cookery. Its originator was truly an artist as tho she had written a poem or painted a picture for she had used her creative instinct and imagination with a fine technic. Thinking of pies and poems, I am more content with pie making for surely it is better to make a good pie than a poor poem.
As a Farm Woman Thinks (29)
April 1, 1924
The topic that had been given me for my club lesson was music. Now the only instrument I can play is the phonograph and I venture to sing only in a crowd where I can drown my voice in the volume of sound. To be sure I have a little music in my feet, but that would not answer for a club paper, so it seemed rather hopeless, but never yet have I been “stumped.” I began to dig up just plain facts about music and seldom have I found anything so interesting.
The simple fact, of how music came to have written form, takes us away into the days of chivalry, in the 16th Century. To guide the choir boys in following the melody when singing masses, the monks wrote the Latin words, not in a straight line but up and down to indicate their place in the musical scale. Later, to shorten the time and labor of writing, the words were replaced by circles and the horizontal lines of the staff were added to more clearly indicate their position. Slowly, from time to time, the different forms of notes were made and music was standardized into the base and treble cleffs, so that our music of today takes its printed form directly from the manuscripts so laboriously written by hand in the monasteries of the 16th Century.
This is only one of the many things I learned about music, but I learned also that it isn’t what one already knows that adds interest to the preparation of a club paper so much as the learning something new in order to be able to go on with it.
Learning things is most fascinating and I think it adds joy to life to be continually learning things so that we may be able to go on with it creditably.
As a Farm Woman Thinks (30)
May 15, 1924
The man of the place was worried about the weather. He said the indications were for a dry season and ever since I have been remembering drouths. There were dry years in the Dakotas when we were beginning our life together. How heart breaking it was to watch the grain we had sown with such high hopes wither and turn yellow in the hot winds! And it was back breaking as well as heart breaking to carry water from the well to my garden and see it dry up despite all my efforts.
I said at that time that thereafter I would sow the seed but the Lord would give the increase if there was any, for I could not do my work and that of Providence also by sending the rain upon the gardens of the just or the unjust.
But still I suppose our brains were given us to use, by the same Providence that created the laws of nature and what we accomplish by the use of them is in a certain sense, Its work. Just as all good is for us, if we but reach out our hand and take it, so in the higher atmosphere around our earth there is a great supply of moisture. It is there for our use if, with the brains which God has given us, we can find a way to tap it. This is what a California man claims to have done.
Hatfield, the rain maker, lives in Glendale, Cal., near Los Angeles. He claims to be able to make rain by projecting into the atmosphere, from a high scaffolding, certain chemicals which attract and precipitate moisture. There are always storms in movement and storm formations pass high over a country without ever condensing and causing rain. The way he operates, he’ll make that storm give up its water as it comes along.
In 1915 ther
e was a very severe drouth in Southern California, especially in San Diego County, where the water situation became critical. As a last resort the San Diego Chamber of Commerce decided to try out this man Hatfield. A contract was made by which he was to receive $10,000, if he brought down water enough to fill the great irrigation reservoir. Shortly after he began operations the rain began to fall in such quantities that the reservoir not only filled but burst its dam and the Chamber of Commerce, instead of paying him $10,000, brought suit against him for damages in destroying the dam.
A DRY SEASON
This year also has been an exceptional year in California. There was a long dry spell thru the winter and in the district around Hanford, orchardists have sent for Hatfield. He is operating there with considerable success and fulfilling his contract to bring 4 inches of rain.
Engineers say they believe Hatfield’s method is sound enough, but they doubt if, operating from a scaffold, he can reach the higher strata of atmosphere where there always is sufficient moisture to produce rain.
In Europe they are experimenting along the same lines, but are operating from airplanes, at elevations from 10,000 to 20,000 feet.
As a Farm Woman Thinks (31)
June 1, 1924
“Mother passed away this morning” was the message that came over the wires and a darkness overshadowed the spring sunshine; a sadness crept into the birds’ songs.2
Some of us have received such messages. Those who have not, one day will. Just as when a child, home was lonely when mother was gone, so to children of a larger growth, the world seems a lonesome place when mother has passed away and only memories of her are left us—happy memories if we have not given ourselves any cause for regret.
Memories! We go thru life collecting them whether we will or not! Sometimes I wonder if they are our treasures in heaven or the consuming fires of torment when we carry them with us as we, too, pass on.
What a joy our memories may be or what a sorrow! But glad or sad they are with us forever. Let us make them carefully of all good things, rejoicing in the wonderful truth that while we are laying up for ourselves the very sweetest and best of happy memories, we are at the same time giving them to others.
As a Farm Woman Thinks (32)
June 15, 1924
When one is tired with the season’s sewing, the remodeling of old garments or making of new because the styles have changed, one thinks what a joy it would be to wear a national costume that never changes as is done by some of the people of Europe.
In the Federated Socialist Soviet Republics that we used to call Russia, of which there are more than 30, the division is racial and the general costume of all women is a rather short, very full skirt, tight fitting bodice or jacket, an apron and a cap.
This costume differs as to detail from section to section, even from village to village. In some places knee high boots are worn. Kirghis women especially are renowned for their high boots of apple-green leather, finer than kid gloves, soft as silk and appliqued all over with the same leather in bright colors.
The men wear high boots, trousers rather like hunting breeches, a blouse quite like a shirt worn outside, a cape or cloak and a headdress which in style shows the place from which they come.
Georgian women wear full skirts and tight bodices of dark colors and embroidered aprons. Their own hair is always completely concealed and over each ear, hanging on the breast, they wear a thick curl of artificial hair. Over their heads they wear veils of white lace or embroidered net. Over this is worn a little crown of black velvet adorned with coins, or if wealthy, diamonds. Over all is a veil of black lace, or black embroidered net. Both black and white veils are large, folded cornerwise and have fancy edging. They give a beautiful effect, framing the face and hanging down the back.
When one remembers that all the lace and embroidery are hand-made, it doesn’t seem so simple after all and I’ve no doubt the endless stitching of making it would be more tiresome than the summer’s sewing.
As a Farm Woman Thinks (33)
December 15, 1924
The snow was scudding low over the drifts of the white world outside the little claim shanty. It was blowing thru the cracks in its walls and forming little piles and miniature drifts on the floor and even on the desks before which several children sat, trying to study, for this abandoned claim shanty that had served as the summer home of a homesteader on the Dakota prairies was being used as a schoolhouse during the winter.
The walls were made of one thickness of wide boards with cracks between and the enormous stove that stood nearly in the center of the one room could scarcely keep out the frost tho its sides were a glowing red. The children were dressed warmly and had been allowed to gather closely around the stove following the advice of the county superintendent of schools, who on a recent visit had said that the only thing he had to say to them was to keep their feet warm.3
This was my first school, I’ll not say how many years ago, but I was only 16 years old and 12 miles from home during a frontier winter. I walked a mile over the unbroken snow from my boarding place to school every morning and back at night. There were only a few pupils and on this particular snowy afternoon they were restless for it was nearing 4 o’clock and tomorrow was Christmas. “Teacher” was restless too, tho she tried not to show it for she was wondering if she could get home for Christmas Day.
It was almost too cold to hope for father to come and a storm was hanging in the northwest which might mean a blizzard at any minute. Still, tomorrow was Christmas—and then there was a jingle of sleigh bells outside. A man in a huge fur coat in a sleigh full of robes passed the window. I was going home after all!
When one thinks of 12 miles now, it is in terms of motor cars and means only a few minutes. It was different then, and I’ll never forget that ride. The bells made a merry jingle, and the fur robes were warm, but the weather was growing colder and the snow was drifting so that the horses must break their way thru the drifts.
We were facing the strong wind, and every little while he, who later became the “man of the place,” must stop the team, get out in the snow, and by putting his hands over each horse’s nose in turn, thaw the ice from them where the breath had frozen over their nostrils. Then he would get back into the sleigh and on we’d go until once more the horses could not breathe for the ice.
When we reached the journey’s end, it was 40 degrees below zero, the snow was blowing so thickly that we could not see across the street and I was so chilled that I had to be half carried into the house. But I was home for Christmas and cold and danger were forgotten.
Such magic there is in Christmas to draw the absent ones home and if unable to go in the body the thoughts will hover there! Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred and we are better thruout the year for having in spirit become a child again at Christmas-time.
* * *
1. Well-known writers such as Sinclair Lewis and Dorothy Thompson, Lewis’s wife, visited Laura’s home in the Ozarks at the invitation of Rose.
2. Caroline Quiner Ingalls, “Ma” Ingalls, 1839–1924.
3. Laura Ingalls Wilder, These Happy Golden Years (New York: Harper and Row, 1971), chapters 8–9.
CODA, 1931
Spic, Span—and Beauty
How a Home Responds to Springtime Touches
April 1, 1931
“In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love,” says the poem, but a housekeeper turns to thoughts of housecleaning, and not so lightly either.
Even when the whole place is in order, we feel that something more should be added to the charm of its freshness and sweetness. We want beauty within to accord with the springtime beauty outside.
If we have plenty of money to use in the work it is easier to accomplish this, but even with a little much may be done in redecorating and beautifying our homes.
Old furniture may be made to look like new by painting it with a quickdrying varnish stain, which comes in all colors or
clear. The grain of the wood shows thru the clear varnish and used over a freshly sand-papered piece of old furniture renews its youth.
If the floors are in good shape, they may be waxed. There are good waxes on the market, but one may be made at home as good and much cheaper. Use one-third melted parowax with two-thirds coal oil or gasoline. Melt the wax, then add the gas or oil, being very careful to keep them away from the fire. After mixing, apply to floors, linoleums, congoleums, etc. In a few minutes the gas will have evaporated; then polish with a woolen cloth, which for convenience may be put over a dust mop. The use of this wax will both preserve and beautify the floors.
HOME-MADE THROW RUGS
If floors are in bad condition, it may be necessary to paint them and cover mostly with rugs. There are so many rugs on the market that one may buy at a price to suit the purse, but home-made ones are very pretty and quite the thing just now.
Paints or other like preparations may be used to freshen the walls, but printed wallpapers are especially good this spring and not expensive.
One of the most important things in the beautifying of our homes is the treatment of the windows and a beautiful effect is obtained by a view, thru two or more rooms and a window at the end, to the outdoors.
Laura Ingalls Wilder, Farm Journalist Page 40
