The Rural Voice, 1989-08, Page 32FIRE
AND YOUR PROPERTY
YOU DON'T WANT TO
SEE THE TWO TOGETHER
For protection call the
Howick Mutual Broker in your area
Brown Insurance Brokers, Palmerston 343-2663
Paul Brown General Insurance, Palmerston 343-2663
Cardiff & Mulvey Insurance, Brussels 887-6100
Elliott Insurance Brokers, Blyth
Gaiser-Kneale Insurance, Clinton
Exeter
Grand Bend
Hensall
Vern Hargrave Insurance, Dundalk
Johnson-Dadson Insurance, Listowel
Keil Insurance, Gorrie
Wingham
Listowel
Bryan Lavis Insurance, Clinton
Lyons & Mulhern Insurance, Goderich
McDonagh Insurance, Lucknow
Teeswater
Middleton Insurance, Chesley
Milverton Insurance, Milverton
J.P. Uniac Insurance, Mitchell
Glenn Warren Insurance, Clifford
Hanover
Wylie Insurance, Gorrie
Harriston
Kincardine Insurance Brokers, Kincardine
523-4481
482-9747
235-2420
238-8484
262-2119
923-2244
291-2964
335-3525
357-2636
291-5100
482-9310
524-2664
528-3423
392-6200
363-3162
595-8108
348-9012
327-8041
364-4039
335-3193
338-3847
396-8112
Tel. (519) 335-3561
1-800-265-3033
EST. 1873
tobovvick MUTUAL INSURANCE COMPANY
Wroxeter, Ontario
NOG 2X0
30 THE RURAL VOCE
heartily to the task of satisfying hun-
ger and thirst. Etiquette wasn't entire-
ly lacking, but it was every man for
himself. My brother and I had a chair
at this table, of course. We would
have been heart -broken otherwise.
Steaming bowls of vegetables (I
can never remember salads) and
mashed potatoes, platters of two or
three kinds of meat, gravy boats, and
pitchers of water and iced tea went
round. Bread and butter were always
eaten too. The ladies hovered anx-
iously to capture and replace empty
vessels. Conversation was desultory
and muted.
Then came the desserts. Large pies
of three or more kinds cut in large
pieces, iced cakes sliced and ready to
eat, bowls of pudding and fruit. And
no restrictions! The grown-ups must
have finished up with coffee and tea,
but I don't remember. No one sat long
at table, but moved outside again to
the shaded back lawn. Many reclined
against tree trunks, some slept with
their hats over their faces, and a few
went aside to chat. Then, at another
mysterious signal from Albert, all the
work began again.
"Quitting time" came at a reason-
able hour because everyone had
chores at home. There was often
some bad feeling and snide comment
when a farmer found himself unloaded
just a little too early and went home
instead of returning to the field.
That evening at supper came the
post mortem. Mother and Aunt
worried aloud whether they had had
enough kinds of dessert, or clucked
about so-and-so's lack of social
graces. Dad was elated (or dejected)
at the number of bushels per acre. We
boys raced out to play once again on
the threshing machine, now sitting
strangely inert and silent. We would
try tumbling and jumping in the straw
stack too, although we were not to
disturb it too much until it had settled.
And so it continued for two or
three days until the wagons and horses
and men left for the last time, the
thresher was all collapsed and hauled
away behind the flashing wheels of
the tractor, and the farm grew silent
and, by comparison, dull. All was
routine again. But there was always
the fall corn -shredding to look forward
to — and next summer's threshing.0