Village Squire, 1975-02, Page 19,(ar,
I remember...winter
The Country Mouse is a former resident of
the Dungannon area now living in Toronto.
. BY THE COUNTRY MOUSE
The last two winters have been very mild,
not at all the kind of real, old-fashioned
winter I recall as a child growing up in
Western Ontario.
We had real winters then, but not the
modern ways to combat the storms and to
make life less uncomfortable. In those days
our house did not have a furnace or bathroom
or electricity. We did not have cars, trucks
and tractors, let alone ski-doo's. One year,
Lorne McKenzie rigged up a sort of
snowmobile and it was the talk of the
community. There were no County snow-
plows on our road, and snow blowers had not
even been thought of. We did not have
fridges or freezers except Nature's freezer
which was sometimes a mixed blessing. We
children did not have warm, light, quilted,
wind and water -proof snow suits.
No, life was less complicated in many ways,
but a serious crisis such as a fire or illness
could be fatal. In case of sickness, someone in
the family, or neighbour, would drive to the
village for the doctor, and then the doctor
would have to drive to the home. That took a
long time and much effort before the days of
telephones. But the country doctors answered
the calls, day or night.
The First Snow! We would look forward to
it for weeks. And what a thrill to waken some
morning to a world or muffled sounds and a
strange white light, and find that it had been
transformed overnight. Or to watch all day as
the fence rails, trees, roofs and ground were
gradually covered • with a fine white
embroidery which changed to a thick, white
blanket, or to watch those tall white hats grow
on the posts and pumps. Of course we had to
get out and play Fox and Goose, or just make
tracks on the snow. Often we found
mysterious animal tracks to speculate about.
Snowmen were built if the snow would pack,
and of course a family of boys soon built a
snow fort and there were glorious snow
fights.
Then, I remember the beautiful frost
patterns on the windows on frosty mornings -
r lovely designs of ferns and bracken, so pure
and fragile. A breath on them, and they were
gone. But if intense cold continued for days
the windows would be so covered with thick
frost that only a pale light filtered through,
especially upstairs where there wasn't much
heat.
Our house was in three parts. The brick
part was built about 1870, one of the first
brick houses in the township. The bricks were
made in a local brickyard and were smaller
than today's bricks. That was the warm part
of the house, and during a blizzard, life was
lived there. We kept warm and cosy beside a
curious, upright, wood -burning heater. Pipes
from it sent some heat upstairs.
The frame part was not much more than a
shell. My grandfather got involved financially
with a stranger and was left to pay off a note
he had backed, just after the frame part was
illustration by
Louise Scott
begun. It was finished the cheapest way
possible and was very drafty in a north-west
blizzard, which the kitchen range did little to
improve. The third part was also frame -
summer kitchen and woodshed, but not used
for much in winter.
Stoves kept the house reasonably comforta-
ble in the daytime, but the fires went out or
nearly out at night and morning was a cold
time. You didn't just get up and turn up the
thermostat or open the furnace draft. Dad
always kept the stubborn, knotty chunks of
wood for burning at night so there were often
a few coals to start the morning fire. Since
there was no electricity, we had only oil lamps
so it was just too bad if the oil can went dry
during a storm. There was no electric pump
and pressure tank. Our well was just outside
the front door but in really bad weather, Dad
banked snow up around the walls and door to
keep out drafts, so to get water, we had to go
out the back door and wallow through snow to
the pump. There was a small cistern under
the back kitchen floor which had a supply of
soft water for washing; but not for cooking or
drinking.
During the winter, he had no radio warning
of storms, so there had to be a good stock of
food on hand. There were bins, boxes and
barrels of apples, potatoes, beets and carrots
in the cellar, and shelves of homecanned
fruit, vegetables and pickles. I often wonder
now how we avoided food poisoning, eating
such quantities of canned corn, peas and
beans. There was always a barrel or more of
bread flour on hand, a hundred pounds of
sugar and plenty of porridge meal, honey and
other staples. We butchered our own meat.
Pork was dry salted or put in brine ready for
smoking in the spring. We made our own
lard, headcheese, liverwurst and pickled
"pigs feet." The beef was hung where it
would freeze - a high freeze, not a deep
freeze.
Roads! When they were drifted - and rail
fences and hedges really caught the snow -
they were DRIFTED. And they stayed drifted
until the storm was over. Then the farmers
went out with teams and sleighs. I have seen
the horses plunging through snow nearly over
their backs. Some of the farmers had strange
little triangular wooden plows that were
attached to the front runners of the sleighs
and they helped widen the track made by the
horses. (Of course, it was just single lane
traffic). But until the roads were opened any
traffic there was, such as the doctor, drove a
good bit of the way through the fields where
the snow was not so deep.
How many of our nieces and nephews have
seen the kind of clothing we wore in winter?
First of all, there was Tong -sleeved,
long-legged, woollen underwear, long, black,
woollen stockings and woollen dresses or
suits. Most of the schoolboys wore pants with
a tight band just below the knee. When
outdoors we had toboggan caps, woollen
coats, scarfs and mitts - occasionally with
VILLAGE SQUIRE/FEBRUARY 1975, 17