This is a picture of me on a tricycle. It is staged at the photographers, but I certainly DID have a great trike at home. Our house was organized in such a way that I could ride round and round through the rooms in a circle if all the doors were open. Mother would play Billy Goat Gruff with me when I would ride under the ironing board.
One day I inadvertently rode my trike down the basement stairs. There was a landing half way down where the stairs changed at right angles. I arrived at the bottom of the stairs still upright on my trusty trike, none the worse for wear.
Right there at the bottom of the steps, if you turned left, you would find the big bin for keeping potatoes. Every once in a while we would investigate to be sure there were no rotten potatoes, as they would spoil the whole thing.
There were also lots and lots of shelves for the glass jars in which my mother spent many a long day canning tomatoes and green beans. Because of the war (I suppose I was 1o by then) my dad had a victory garden. We had a super abundance of tomatoes, especially. I would go with him early in the season to help. He had a small man-pushed plow. He made it into a small girl-pulled plow that the man guided. The trouble with being patriotic and having this victory garden was that everyone in our small town was doing the same thing. When the produce came in, you literally couldn't give a tomato away.
Dad solved that problem by taking the harvest to Madison to the back door of restaurants and selling them the sweet home produced fruits of his labors. I can even remember the clothes that I wore on these excursions. I both admired him for his chutzpah and was humiliated at having to make these inquiries at the back doors. It did instill in my being the idea that nothing should be wasted.
A side issue of this was that we would often be eating in the kitchen and be entertained by the sound of an exploding jar of tomatoes in the basement. Then would follow the clean up. We could never eat enough tomatoes to catch up with the shelf life of the jars.
I wish I could figure out how to make the tomato sauce that my mother made. It was slightly sweet with a touch of lemon. Fantastic, but not easy to duplicate. Perhaps it cannot be duplicated because nostalgia has added to the memory of its taste.
Take care.
5 comments:
I love that picture of you, it is so sweet. Also love the stories...I think we were healthier and more kind to the earth when we canned and used home produce. It's funny and also great how many people are really trying to get back into this way of life and shunning the packaged foods.
Oh my gosh!!! How adorable!! I enlarged the picture and it nearly brought tears to my eyes, seriously!! You were too cute and those cheeks!! Ask Hannah how much I love a good set of cheeks! And obviously someone loved you enough to curl your hair!
And your memories. . . WOW. Those are the things I find fascinating! I envision the picture of your Dad hooking you up to the plow about like putting a cat on a leash. I would have loved to have seen it!
The story about your tricycle and the basement stairs was material for a good laugh although it could be makings for a serious accident. Thank the Lord for Angels!
Karen no one had to curl her hair. Before they cut her hair she had long curls --like they did them in those days. She has always had naturally curly hair . The envious kind.
Loretta, I did the taking of tomatoes to Madison restaurants. I was living at home when Wally was in the war. How would Dad get way from work to take the tomatoes. I got enough money to pay for all his plants that one year. I thought if I had to help can one more tomato !!!. or bean or whatever. We even canned soup mix.
Sorry, Fran, but mother wrapped my hair in torn up sheets every night. It was comfortable because the sheets were soft. She was very proud of those curls and worked hard to produce them.
Now that I look closer at this at this --you still have the long curls. I have many pictures of you at this age better than this one. You have those big bows too. I will have to send you some so you can put them in your blog. No one was cuter.
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