HOARDING FOR WINTER
As was stated early in this simple history the original barn was built
on a hillside, the rear facing the southeast; and since the foundations
were still in a fair condition, and the site was convenient, I
determined to build on the same spot, somewhat modifying the old plan.
I had read of the importance of keeping manure under cover, and now
arranged that by a trap door the cleanings of the horse and cow stable
should be thrown into the basement, which, by a solid brick partition,
should be so divided as to leave ample room for a dark cellar in which
to store roots and apples. Through this trap door in the stable rich
earth and muck from the banks of the creek could be thrown down also,
covering the manure, and all could be worked over and mixed on rainy
days. By this method I could make the most of my fertilizers, which may
be regarded as the driving-wheel of the farm.
I had decided that the poultry-house and pigsty should form an
extension to the barn, and that both should be built in the side of the
bank also. They would thus have an exposure to the south, and at the
same time, being formed in part by an excavation, would be cool in
summer. The floor of the sty should have a slight downward slope, and
be cemented. Therefore it could be kept perfectly clean. This residence
of Bobsey's future pets should be at the extreme end of the extension,
and above it should be a room in which I could store picked-up apples,
corn, and other food adapted to their needs, also a conduit by which
swill could be poured into the trough below without the necessity of
entering the pen. I proposed to keep only two or three pigs at a time,
buying them when young from neighboring farmers, and fattening them for
our own use according to my own ideas.
The poultry-house, between the barn and sty, was to be built so that
its side, facing the south, should be chiefly of glass. It was so
constructed as to secure the greatest amount of light and warmth. Eggs
in winter form the most profitable item in poultry keeping, and these
depend on warmth, food, shelter, and cleanliness, with the essential
condition that the hens are young. All the pullets of Winnie's early
broods therefore had been kept, and only the young cockerels eaten or
sold. We had the prospect of wintering about fifty laying hens; and the
small potatoes we had saved would form a large portion of their food.
Indeed, for some weeks back, such small tubers, boiled and mashed with
meal, had formed the main feed of our growing chickens.
I learned that Bagley was out of work, and employed him to excavate the
bank for these new buildings. We saved the surface earth carefully for
compost purposes, and then struck some clean, nice gravel, which was
carted away to a convenient place for our roads and walks. On a
hillside near the creek were large stones and rocks in great quantity,
and some of these were broken up for the foundations. Along the edge of
the creek we also found some excellent sand, and therefore were saved
not a little expense in starting our improvements.
It did not take the masons long to point up and strengthen the old
foundations, and early in September everything was under full headway,
the sound of hammer, saw, and plane resounding all day long. It was
Winnie's and Bobsey's task to gather up the shavings and refuse bits of
lumber, and carry them to the woodhouse.
"The ease and quickness with which we can build fires next winter," I
said, "is a pleasant thing to think of."
Meanwhile the garden was not neglected. The early flight of
summer-boarders had greatly reduced the demand for vegetables, and now
we began to hoard them for our own use. The Lima-beans were allowed to
dry on the vines; the matured pods of the bush-beans were spread in the
attic; thither also the ripened onions were brought and placed in
shallow boxes. As far as possible we had saved our own seed, and I had
had a box made and covered with tin, so as to be mouse-proof, and in
this we placed the different varieties, carefully labelled. Although it
was not "apple year," a number of our trees were in bearing. The best
of the windfalls were picked up, and, with the tomatoes and such other
vegetables as were in demand, sent to the village twice a week. As fast
as crops matured, the ground was cleared, and the refuse, such as
contained no injurious seeds, was saved as a winter covering for the
strawberry plants.
Our main labor, however, after digging the rest of the potatoes, was
the setting of the remaining half-acre in the later varieties of the
strawberry. Although the early part of September was very dry and warm,
we managed to set out, in the manner I have described, two or three
rows nearly every afternoon. The nights had now grown so long and cool
that one thorough watering seemed to establish the plants. This was due
chiefly to the fact that nearly every plant had a ball of earth
attached to the roots, and had never been allowed to wilt at all in the
transition. About the middle of the month there came a fine rain, and
we filled the remainder of the ground in one day, all the children
aiding me in the task. The plants first set out were now strong and
flourishing. Each had a bunch of foliage six inches in diameter.
Thus, with helping on the new barn and other work, September saw a
renewal of our early-summer activity.
"The winds in the trees are whispering of winter," I said to the
children, "and all thrifty creatures--ants, bees, and squirrels--are
laying up their stores. So must we."
I had watched our maturing corn with great satisfaction. For a long
time Merton had been able to walk through it without his straw hat
being seen above the nodding tassels. One day, about the 20th of the
month, Mr. Jones came over with some bundles of long rye straw in his
wagon, and said, "Yer can't guess what these are fer."
"Some useful purpose, or you wouldn't have brought them," I replied.
"We'll see. Come with me to the corn patch."
As we started he took a bundle under his arm, and I saw that he had in
his hand a tool called a corn-knife. Going through the rows he
occasionally stripped down the husks from an ear.
Finally he said: "Yes, it's ready. Don't yer see that the kernels are
plump and glazed? Junior and I are going to tackle our corn ter-morrow,
and says I to myself, 'If ourn is ready to cut, so is neighbor
Durham's,' The sooner it's cut after it's ready, the better. The stalks
are worth more for fodder, and you run no risk from an early frost,
which would spile it all. You and Merton pitch in as yer allers do, and
this is the way ter do it."
With his left hand gathering the stalks of a hill together above the
ears, he cut them all olf with one blow of the corn-knife within six
inches of the ground, and then leaned them against the stalks of an
uncut hill. This he continued to do until he had made what he called a
"stout," or a bunch of stalks as large as he could conveniently reach
around, the uncut hill of stalks forming a support in the centre. Then
he took a wisp of the rye-straw, divided it evenly, and putting the
ends together, twisted it speedily into a sort of rope. With this he
bound the stout tightly above the ears by a simple method which one
showing made plain to me.
"Well, you are a good neighbor!" I exclaimed.
"Pshaw! What does this amount to? If a man can't do a good turn when it
costs as little as this, he's a mighty mean feller. You forget that
I've sold you a lot of rye-straw, and so have the best of yer after
all."
"I don't forget anything, Mr. Jones. As you say, I believe we shall
'make a go' of it here, but we always remember how much we owe to you
and Junior. You've taken my money in a way that saved my self-respect,
and made me feel that I could go to you as often as I wished; but you
have never taken advantage of me, and you have kept smart people from
doing it. Do you know, Mr. Jones, that in every country village there
are keen, weasel-like people who encourage new-comers by bleeding their
pocket-books at every chance? In securing you as a neighbor our battle
was half won, for no one needs a good practical friend more than a city
man beginning life in the country."
"Jerusalem! how you talk! I'm goin' right home and tell my wife to call
me Saint Jones. Then I'll get a tin halo and wear it, for my straw hat
is about played out;" and away he went, chuckling over his odd
conceits, but pleased, as all men are, when their goodwill is
appreciated. If there is one kind of meanness that disgusts average
human-nature more than another it is a selfish, unthankful reception of
kindness, a swinish return for pearls.
After an early supper I drove to the village with what I had to sell,
and returned with two corn-hooks. At dusk of the following day, Bagley
and I had the corn cut and tied up, my helper remarking more than once,
"Tell you what it is, Mr. Durham, there hain't a better eared-out patch
o' corn in Maizeville."
On the following day I helped Bagley sharpen one of the hooks, and we
began to cut the fodder-corn which now stood, green and succulent,
averaging two feet in height throughout the field.