Round Oak Heater

The old stove wasn't much to look at. Black with a silver belt around its middle. Cast iron. The words, "Round Oak" prominently displayed near its top. It stood on the floor near the south wall of the dining room in our old farm house. Along with the cook stove in the kitchen, it tried to heat the drafty place.

Starting in late October, with the help of a couple husky neighbors, we hauled the stove into the dining room from the woodshed where it had spent the warm months. With considerable, "a little this way, no a little that way," and some words not printable, we finally lined up the stove with the stove pipe hole in the floor above it.

Pa closed off the rest of the house, meaning we lived in the kitchen and dining room until the following March. We spent a lot of time huddled by that old heater, especially on below zero mornings. (Our upstairs bedroom was not heated. It depended on the the trickle of heat from the stove pipe that thrust through the room and into the chimney.)

One of the chores for my brothers and me was to keep a pile of chunk wood handy to shove into that hungry old monster. This meant lugging wood into the house from the woodpile out back.

We learned some never forgotten lessons, the most important being patience and right next to it faith. Patience that winter takes awhile, and faith that spring will once more return.

The Old Timer says: "Listen to the quiet on a night when the temperature hovers around zero, a cold moon hangs low on the horizon and not a creature is stirring."

Snow and More Snow

The snow keeps piling up. A new storm every three days it seems. And none of these wimpy "dustings." Three inches, four inches, ten inches, a foot. Serious snow.

When I was a kid on the farm, such fun we had during the snowy days of winter--skiing, sleding. And the not so fun part. Shoveling paths to the pump house, to the chicken house, to the granary, to the barn, to the straw stack, and how could I forget, to the outhouse that on these winter days was as cold as an ice house.


The Old Timer Says: "These snowy days are great days for reading a book."

Wind Chill

One of my father's favorite wintertime sayings was: "When the days lengthen, the cold strengthens." There's a bit of truth to it. The days start adding minutes in January, and the temperature often drops to its lowest during that month. Of course, following the theory, June 20 should be the coldest day of the year. I never asked Pa about that. Thought better of it.

Pa didn't believe in wind chill numbers. He said if it was cold and the wind was blowing, get out of the wind. Any ninny knows to do that.

The idea of "wind chill" traces back to Antarctic explorer, Paul A. Siple. He coined the phrase in 1939. It wasn't until the 1960's and 1970's that wind chill numbers became popular. In 2001, the National Weather Service recalculated wind chill numbers and came up with today's "Wind Chill Index." For instance, if it's really 0 degrees, and the wind is 25 mph, the wind chill index is -24 degrees.

The Old Timer Says: "Put your ear flaps down and your collar up when you head outside. And don't forget, on a cold and windy day, sitting by a crackling fire is about the most pleasant thing there is."

The Old Timer will be gone for a couple weeks. Back in mid-February.

First printing of IN A PICKLE: A FAMILY FARM STORY is about sold out. Don't miss out. Stop at your favorite bookstore, or visit my website and order a copy.

Cold Weather , Wood Stoves & Families

I spent several days at my cabin in central Wisconsin this week. Every morning was below zero, one morning down to -15. I heat the place with a wood stove--something about wood stove heat that is relaxing as well as warming, even though on a cold morning my front side is toasty warm while my back end freezes as I stand in front of the wood burner.

I grew up in an uninsulated farm house heated with two wood stoves. We closed off most of the house in winter except for the kitchen and the dining room. I remember frigid cold mornings and cold evenings, too, when the wind came up and the house shuddered and we huddled close to the Round Oak heater in the dining room.

There was something special about the cold, beyond the inconvenience of a frozen watering tank, and an uncomfortable mile walk to our country school. Cold weather brought families together, literally.

The Old Timer says: "No matter what direction a north wind blows, it always blows cold."

Winter's Many Moods

Winter is a season of many moods. Strings of cloudy, dark, dreary days. And then a day with clear, bright sunshine on snow covered hills. Pleasant. Followed a day later by a raging storm with snow flying on the wind. And another day, after the storm, quiet, but cold, so cold. A week or so later above freezing temperatures, mushy snow, and dripping eaves. Many moods.


The Old Timer Says: "It's not gonna get done if you don't start doing it."

P.S. Have you read IN A PICKLE: A FAMILY FARM STORY yet? I'm told first printing is almost sold out.

Winter Reading

With short and cloudy days, and long, dark nights, it's a great time to do some winter reading. How about pulling off the shelf Aldo Leopold's A SAND COUNTY ALMANAC.

I first read the book back in the 1950s, and I still read sections from it every so often. For instance, we've just had a January thaw. Leopold writes, "Each year, after the midwinter blizzards, there comes a night of thaw when the tinkle of dripping water is heard in the land. It brings strange stirrings, not only to creatures abed for the night, but to some who have been asleep for the winter." How nicely said.


The Old Timer Says: "January is for slowing down and reflecting, for considering the year that has passed and anticipating the year that is beginning."

Ice Fishing

During the Christmas break at our country school, my dad, two brothers and I went ice fishing everyday, no matter what the weather. When we finished the morning chores, we packed the tip-ups, ice chisel, and minnows into the back of our 1936 Plymouth and we were off to the lake. Usually Mt. Morris Lake in Waushara County in those days.

After we cut holes in the ice and set up our tip-ups (used to hook a northern pike if we were lucky) we trudged off to shore and built a small fire where we sat staring through the smoke at our tip-up flags, and where we heard our Uncle's stories and the stories of others who ice fished with us. I have warm memories of those cold days. Oh, we also caught some fish.


The Old Timer says: Don't make too small a hole in the ice when ice fishing. Nothing is more embarrassing or perplexing than to hook a fish too large for the hole. Same with life. Be prepared for the big opportunities; they often come along when you least expect them.

New Year Thoughts

As we look forward to a new year, with all of its challenges and opportunities, I am reminded of something that Albert Einstein wrote: "Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better."

The Old Timer says: "Don't forget how important it is to just sit awhile and think."

Christmas Memories

As we grow older, Christmas memories abound:

I remember Christmas morning, when I was a kid growing up on a farm, with a stack of presents under the tree that couldn't be opened until the morning milking was done. Of receiving new socks and mittens that grandmother had knitted, and a new pair of skates, the type that clamped onto the bottom of my shoes and were tightened with a key.

I remember walking a mile with my dad to a neighbor's with a small present and a freshly baked pie, because we knew that his wife had passed away and his children had grown and moved to the city, and he was there alone on Christmas day.

The Old Timer says: "Listen to the laughter of children, and remember when you were a kid."

The Rhythm of the Seasons

The long winter in the north is settling in allowing time for resting, rejuvenating. remembering, contemplating--but mostly enjoying. Winter is for slowing down.

But so many of us still hurry. We can't accept the rhythm of the seasons.

The Old Timer Says:"Why is it that patience is in such short supply these days?"

Pickles and Onions

Pickles and onions. Not a bad combination for those with cast iron stomachs. But I'm talking about The Onion. a national very funny newspaper that pokes fun at about everything. Except in the December 7 issue they talked about my book, In a Pickle: A Family Farm Story.

The mention was part of a "Wisconsin Gift Guide" feature. They said my book was "For literary snobs who doubt the inspirational power of pickles." They concluded the review with, "It's not the first American novel to pit country wisdom against corporate sliminess, but when was the last time a good story taught you this much about the pickle-curing process?"


The Old Timer says: "Everything has an end, except a sausage, which has two."

Snowstorm

It blew in from the southwest, from Iowa, a few flakes at first, in late morning. Then more flakes as the storm increased, got stronger, grew bolder. Soon I couldn't see the road that trails by the cabin, couldn't glimpse the pasture field just beyond the driveway. Couldn't see the tops of the now naked black willow trees that windbreak the cabin.

First big snow of the season. About six inches dumped before it moved on east, giving those folks a taste of winter as well.

Nearly put the Pickle Party in a pickle--but it didn't. Sturdy Wisconsinites know how to drive in snow, even when the road disappears in front of them. Four-wheel drive weather. More than 50 turned out to celebrate pickles, pickle patches, and pickle factories--and hear about IN A PICKLE: A FAMILY FARM STORY.

The Old Timer Says: "There are no shortcuts to important places."

Windy Day in Fall

The wind came up in the night. Strong. Cold. The dead leaves of autumn fly ahead of it. The bare branches of the willows and the maples and the aspens protest it. The temperature drops all day, pushing toward the single digits.

I walk in the wind, smelling fall, but tasting winter as well. And I'm reminded of the old Irish blessing: "May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be ever at your back."

The Old Timer Says: "There is no need to fear the wind if your haystack is tied down."


Don't forget the Pickle Party December 1, 1:00 pm at Patterson Memorial Library in Wild Rose, WI. I'll be sharing some pickle stories.

Home Made Pumpkin Pie

We grow pumpkins in the farm garden, enough so the grandkids have jack-O-lanterns and we have pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving. Real pumpkin pie.

Here's the recipe Ruth uses:
2 eggs--beaten
Add the following ingredients to the beaten eggs, combine:
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 tablespoon flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon each of nutmeg, allspice, and cinnamon

Now add and blend thoroughly:
2 cups pumpkin pulp
1 cup milk

Put mixture into a single pie crust.

Bake 425 degrees for 15 minutes
Then 350 degrees until done (about 30-40 minutes)

The pie is done when the top surface is set and not sticky.

Enjoy. Happy Thanksgiving!

The Old Timer Says: "You don't learn patience by hurrying."

When Better Trumps Bigger

"Bigger is Better." It's a cliche. We've heard it for years. Bigger this, that and the other thing--and if it's bigger it's got to be better.

Not always so. Especially not with cucumbers. It's the little ones, the number ones, the gherkins that bring the most money to the grower. The big ones, those honkers that remind you of a green football turning yellow, well, we sometimes left them in the field. Didn't even haul them to the pickle station because nobody wanted a big, old yellow cucumber.

Learn more about these important matters at the big Pickle Party at the Patterson Memorial Library in Wild Rose, WI, December 1, starting around 1:00 p.m. That's a Saturday.

The Old Timer says: "If bigger is better, why is a dime worth more than a nickel?"

Gherkins and Such

What's a gherkin? You don't know? If you grew up picking cucumbers you remember people talking about gherkins--they are the little ones. The number "ones" that fall through the pickle sorter first and command the highest price.

One reference I checked said the word, "gherkin" originated with the Persians, and eventually came to us from the Dutch. It literally means "a small cucumber."

Oh, bet you didn't know that Thomas Jefferson favored pickled gherkins, and they became a popular product in France as early as the 1820s.

Learn more about gherkins and other important cucumber information at Patterson Memorial Library in Wild Rose,Saturday December 1, 1:00 p.m. Come early and look at the pickle exhibits.

And learn about my new book IN A PICKLE: A FAMILY FARM STORY.

The Old Timer says: A pocketful of common sense is worth a wagon-load of learning.

Pickle Party at Wild Rose

Mark your calendar! We are having a big pickle party at Patterson Memorial Library in Wild Rose on Saturday, December 1, 2007 at 1:00 p.m.

We'll talk about pickle days in Wild Rose's history, the pickle stations that operated there, and reminisce about the little "pickle patches" found on about every farm at one time.

And I'll read a little from IN A PICKLE:A FAMILY FARM STORY. Here's a chance to learn the story behind the story--who was Andy Meyer? And that preacher, was there a preacher like that in Wild Rose in the mid-1950s.

It's a fund raiser for the library; I'll be signing books with proceeds going to the Patterson Memorial Library.

The Old Timer says: "There are no shortcuts to important places."

Falling Leaves

A brisk northwest wind comes up in the night and the colorful leaves of autumn tumble to the ground. A new season has arrived, with no turning back, with nothing but memories remaining. Like so much of life itself, as each of us turns a new page and looks ahead with anticipation of what is next.

The Old Timer says: "As in cards, we must play the hand dealt us in life. Winning isn't as important as playing a poor hand well."

For those interested in my "Writing From Your Life" writing workshop at The Clearing in Door County, the 2008 dates are: August 3-9.

Wood Stove Chili

Ruth cooked up a pot of chili on our wood burning cook stove on Saturday. Took me right back to my growing up years on the farm when Ma cooked everything on such a stove. Something about the smell of chili simmering mixing in with the hint of wood smoke that makes the experience special.

Ruth used my mother's recipe, which is found in my LIVING A COUNTRY YEAR book.

Here's the recipe:

1 pound ground beef
1 medium onion
1 cup macaroni
1 quart V-8 vegetable juice
1 (16-ounce) can kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1/2 teaspoon chili powder (could use more)
Salt and pepper to taste
1 tablespoon sugar

Brown ground beef and onion. Drain excess fat.
Cook macaroni in boiling, salted water for about 8 minutes.
Drain. Place V-8 juice in large kettle.
Add beans, meat, onion, and cooked macaroni.
Stir in spices and sugar and simmer for 45 minutes.
Add a little water if too thick.
Serves four people.

Goes especially well with a thick slice of home-made bread, buttered.



The Old Timer says: "Whether climbing up a ladder or coming down, it is equally frightening."

Making Wood

Steve and I spent two days last week "making wood" at the farm. We heat our cabin with two wood stoves, including a wood-burning cook stove we use for some of our cooking when we are there. Nothing beats bacon and eggs sizzling in a cast iron skillet heated by a wood stove.

I mentioned our "making wood" project to someone the other day who promptly corrected me. She said, "Trees make wood; people chop wood." I didn't argue with her. Never thought of it before, but"making wood" is likely country talk in the same category as "making hay."

The old timer says: "Those who heat with wood stoves are twice warmed."