The Memories Without "Backup" Photos
You are just going to have to rely on my recall of the following incidents that happened at the cabin. They are as truthful as I can impart. Remember, these happened a LONG time ago. The aging process has retained - quite clearly, and embraced my long term reminiscences and is beginning to eradicate some of my short term matters. I just think a few of these are worth remembering. I'd better get them down on paper now!
Once, when the cabin was under construction and had no walls nor roof, my brother, sister, myself and my husband all spent a night there. The concrete floor had been poured and the fireplace and chimney were constructed and functional. There was no water and no electricity, but we were on an adventure. The folding cots were set up in front of the fireplace and a gas lantern was lit at bedtime. The fellas were not there when my sister and I went to bed. I believe they were still fishing down by the lake so we left the lantern on. Suddenly, she sat up and screamed, "A RAT! A rat just ran over the mantel!" Well, don't you know it HAD to be the shadow of a small mouse that was cast upon the chimney. Mice were a-plenty. Rats were not so likely to be around. It took her a long time to go to sleep after her scare.
Another tale that comes to mind is about the "Laura snake." The children, around the age of 9, 10, 11 and 12 used to cary a pail, coffee can or some other sort of container and venture down the dirt road to hunt for snakes. Yes! The snakes would come out of the rock ledges to sun themselves so they were an easy roundup. Many could also be found under rocks and in debris along the shoreline. I love their beauty to this day. When caught, either with bare hands or a forked stick, they were brought back to be discussed and admired before being released. These older children wanted to introduce a particular one they had just caught in the flowerbed to their little sister, who was outdoors in the playpen. The small green garter snake was only presented to her to handle and hold. She IMMEDIATELY snatched it up with both hands and BIT it! In the middle! It died. the older kids were horrified and the small child wailed when they took it away.
This snake account is one that happened when I was picking wildflowers on the bank of the dam. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and looked down to see a coiled up very grandly marked snake just beside my sneaker. I held perfectly still and called for my husband to bring the shovel or a gun because it was, in my mind, a copperhead. I didn't want THEM around me or my children. He came, he shot it and it burst open, revealing dozens of sacs of baby snakes. Those shiny little sacks of babies just about ready to be born normally didn't have a chance, now. End of story? No. It was later determined that it was a common rat snake and not a viper. I was so sorry.
The boys, big and small, once hauled a turkey platter-sized snapping turtle from the lake. What a commotion that was! I draw a complete blank on how it was killed or the meat was gleaned, but I DO remember that my mom made turtle soup for all. From then on, whenever a snapping turtle was captured, the male family members released it to a new home at neighboring lake.
One morning, a very long time ago when we were here I saw very large cat paw prints in the snowy field right next to the cabin. I remember that there was some sort of swipe mark in the middle. It's presumed it was a mountain lion roaming. Strange wailing sounds had been heard previously in the night. Mountain lions our neck of the woods in Pennsylvania? Very possibly because we are surrounded by rugged mountains and have a water source.
Who could forget "Gemma" Mom's black Labrador Retriever. The kids all hated it when she was let loose to swim with them because she paddled too close and scratched them. They tried everything to make her go away, but she had rights and, after all, loved to swim and play too.
Once, after we carelessly dumped the spent charcoal from the iron hibachi onto a spot on the grassy field next the cabin, our youngest daughter, around the age of 4, running barefoot across the lawn stepped on the still hot coals! We had intended to dump water on the smoldering remains, but didn't move fast enough. We were just preparing to travel to our home away from the cabin and had to comfort her with ice-packed towels until she finally fell asleep. Burns HURT! (My husband remembers it was the middle daughter and not the youngest. He may be correct.)
Our oldest boy seemed to be the most active and was always getting into something. One time he got a fishhook embedded so deeply in his thumb that we had to take him to the local hospital for its removal. The doctors there didn't seem to have the correct tools and wire cutters were finally located. After that, we removed several other hooks from fingers, hands and arms ourselves. It's a tricky procedure, but I had posted explicit directions on a varnished panel board in the bathroom near the medical supplies for reference.
Usually in the winter way back in the 60's the water was drained and the cabin was put to sleep for the winter. Winterizing had no impact on us. We came on weekends anyway. Eight of us. The fireplace still could provide heat and the living room became a good drying area for the wet winter attire, some slung over the beams. Water was collected from a spring that was located at the water's edge on a bank nearby. The children had this chore and they made it into a fun activity. A small red plastic toboggan with an attached rope was utilized to transport the water jugs from the spring up the bank and to the side door. There was much wetness involved as you would guess. It got away from them one time and slid back down the bank and across the icy lake for quite a distance, the filled jugs remaining in place except for one that flew off and burst open.
A hole was chopped through the ice, which could reach 30 inches thick, for two large pails to be dipped and filled and brought up to the cabin. Why? To flush the toilet of course!
As for keeping the fireplace logs burning through the night, my husband would be sure to drink lots of fluids before going to bed so he would have to wake up for nature's call and then could reload the fire with enough logs to keep it going until morning.
The elderberry color is lovely, full of depth and drama - it looks more purple in some lights, but usually tends more towards the burgundy with purply-blue undertones. The actual elderberry home made items show off this marvelous color. Have you ever had elderberry pie? Elderberry jelly? Mom made the pies (they are too seedy for my taste) and I made the jelly. When the jelly didn't jell - we used it as pancake syrup. It's a labor intensive process; gathering, washing, sorting, cooking, bagging into cheesecloth to strain. When the mushy bag is accidently dropped into the the old porcelain sink and goes SPLAT! the colorful stuff can stain anything in its vicinity. That's what happened to me one hot afternoon. It's bad enough to have purple hands from the project, but to have to peel off a hot-berry splattered shirt was difficult. Then my face, arms, hair, underwear and all were purple. Needless to say several items of clothing were tossed in the garbage can that day. The clean-up of me and the kitchen was agonizing. I was more careful the next time I made that delectable sweet and colorful treat!
The 'heating with coal' method in the 40's was dirty, messy, a lot of work but quite efficient. I believe it was the primary fuel source to heat homes.
An asbestos-covered furnace existed in our cellar. The pipes running from it were also asbestos-covered. In fact, in the grammar school I attended, the asbestos-covered pipes ran all through the hallways. I remember scratching my initials and drawing pictures in the asbestos coverings with my fingernails! (This was done when my parents weren't looking because a strong scolding always resulted, but I couldn't help myself.) Naughty!
Coal slid from the delivery truck down a metal chute which went through our cellar window at the far end of the house. The truck first had to back into our neighbor's driveway to deliver. Then the back of the truck would raise up and tip downward, the chutes would be attached and a lever was pulled to release the coal. The coal was wet, I guess so it wouldn't spark and catch fire!
The coal was hand-shoveled into the furnace and had to be replenished regularly throughout the day. It was brought over to the furnace from the bin across the cellar in a hand-carried pail. When Dad was at work, Mom had to keep the fire going. Dad was away overnight for a day or two periodically. Times were hard then.
The fire had to be remade each morning which was the coldest time of the day. The first task was to remove the old ash from beneath the fire grate (a cast iron grid which held the coal). The grate was raised up to allow air in and to let the ashes fall into a pan, and this pan had to be taken out and up the cellar stairs to the outside driveway besides the house to be emptied. If there was no snow, it was emptied into buckets and kept for future use. The process created clouds of dust. Although most of the ashes did collect in the pan, the space below still needed to be swept out, which made more dust.
Keeping the fire going was really an art in those days. Chimney fires were always a threat when the heat was cranked up. It had something to do with the draft and the draw. If the fire went out, it was a pain to start it up again. I remember balled up newspaper being used. A hot fire in the furnace created the heat necessary to boil the water to make the steam. I remember there was a glass tube on the side of the furnace in which a certain level of water had to be maintained so the steam could build up in the radiators on the first and second floors. Steam heat was the result. How I loved to hear the whistle go off when the steam pressure was released. It meant heat!
It also meant that when I woke up in the morning the gift of an absolutely wonderful and beautiful frost-glazed window was sparkling bright to greet me. - and tempt me. I could now scratch magical designs with my childhood imaginative artwork. Breathing on the frost would enhance the drawings - in my mind! I would redecorate my window at every chance throughout the cold winter.
