Articles
GARDENING
by: Edna Tinning
| Edna Tinning a long time resident of Duanesburg was a member of the Scribblers Writers Group. |
Gardening
As I remember gardening in the 1920’s and 30’s. It was a half acre back of the house with a long grape vine between the two sections. In the winter Dad put on plenty of loads of cow manure over it. In the spring it would be ready to harrow it for the soil was always plowed in the Fall. There would be rows and rows of sweet corn and pumpkins on the back section with cucumbers and potatoes planted. In the front section more potatoes and tomato plants.
The hired man (Joe Syne) Lockwood did the hoeing. He would not milk cows or drive horses but loved to hoe? ………… …..
Once a month at the end of each month Dad would pay him and Joe Syne would go to Amsterdam and drink it up. I don’t know where he stayed for I don’t think he had any family.
On Monday morning I can still see him coming down the dirt road carrying a bouquet of flowers for mother and singing to the top of his voice. It would take a day for him to get out in the garden again.
Mother did the canning. There would be dozens of cans of corn, beans, beets, tomatoes plus relishes (?made by the same plants plus jars of jelly and jam in the cold cellar downstairs?)
One recipe I liked was Jim Jam.
1 quart currant juice
1 quart raspberry juice
3 oranges (peeled) Chop up orange
1 lb. Raisins
5 lb. Sugar (Makes 15 cups)
Boil slow til thick
In all our moving 6 times I believe Joe and I had a garden. When the boys were in 4H they took part in an exhibit at Altamont Fair and won some prizes.
Edna Tinning
8/3/01
A Glimpse of America July 4th
by: Jan Fish
| Jan Fish has had a busy life working as a chemist at Oak Ridge, TN, and Knolls Atomic Power Lab. She married, raised 4 children and taught school. She is a member of the Scribblers Writers Group and now living at the Avenue Nursing Center, Schenectady, NY. |
A Glimpse of America July 4th
One of my most memorable Fourth of Julys was not too long ago � 1996 to be exact. I was visiting my daughter Emily and her family in Nederland, Colorado that hot summer week. We had scanned the �Mountaineer� � the local weekly newspaper for events of the day and decided to attend a pancake breakfast at a place called Gold Hill.
Now Gold Hill was not too far away as the raven flies, but along those sinuous mountain roads it took a while to get there. The last several miles were along a rather narrow dirt road. We came to a junction with another dirt road and that was Gold Hill. On the one corner there was a white wooden school building � looked like about four rooms � surrounded by a small lawn and a rail fence. On the opposite corner was a barn like brown wooden firehouse containing very up to date fire trucks. Set back from the dirt corner was a windowless log house and the last corner was a mountainside of trees.
As we got out of the car and walked toward the schoolhouse, we were greeted by a revolutionary general who looked and acted like he had just walked out of the pages of an old history book. Children were chatting and laughing and waving small American flags with enthusiasm that shows their pride in flag and country.
An abundance of mountain-size pancakes were served up from a grill next to the schoolhouse, by smiling volunteer firemen and their wives. There was plenty of butter and syrup and strong coffee to go with them.
Several dilapidated picnic tables with fragile folding chairs awaited us and we claimed our seats and began to eat the plumpest, tastiest pancakes you can imagine. The conversation was upbeat and jovial and we found the local people friendly and outgoing. We heard tales about their life in Gold Hill, spiced up a bit for our entertainment, I�m sure.
After breakfast we walked around the schoolhouse to the small playground so my two-year-old granddaughter Tamara, could vent some energy. The slide and climbing gym were sturdy and so huge that my 6 foot 2 son-in-law, Mark, was dwarfed in comparison. He boosted Tamara up to the slide. She looked like such a tiny peanut on that giant equipment! One could imagine the hard use it must have gotten from the fifth and sixths grade mountain kids who attended school there. Girls with baskets filled with candy, tiny flags and balloons came along and gave Tamara some goodies along with a friendly smile. Others came along and offered us cups of soda or coffee. These were freely offered, given to strangers, not sold. It was so refreshing to see these dear folks who just wanted to share their holiday, and did do with love and a smile.
Promptly at noon the fire whistle heralded the time for the parade. The highly polished fire trucks were pulled out of the firehouse and the older boys decorated them with flags as the other children lined up in groups ready to march.
We left Gold Hill before the parade got underway but not without a wonderfully warm feeling about a very small town America and the celebration of America�s birthday.