The Old Farm; Washing Clothes the Hard Way; Making Bread.

Shortly after we moved to the old farm near Springville, my parents bought some milking cows. Both Mom and Dad had to work in the barn, with the animals. My brother was only eight years old at that time and wasn't old enough to do much work yet. I did some chores in the house and garden. Pulling weeds was not a favorite chore of mine. Many of the weeds were between one and two feet tall, with lots of tough roots.

I also helped on Wash Day, putting clothes through the manual wringer. Rinsing the clothes was especially hard because the rinse water was very, very cold water from the well. The rinsing tub was a galvanized round tub set on a flat, backless kitchen chair. I would have to put my hands and arms in the water past my elbows, and the cold water was quite painful.

Our washing area was a room off the kitchen, unpainted and weather-beaten. It was actually the old back porch, which had been closed in. It did have a roof, and a door leading to the ground, with five or six steps as stairs. There was a medium-sized square window on the outside wall, looking out over the rectangular garden below the barn.

One day Mom wanted me to make and bake some bread. She said to use sieves-ful of flour, and to soften the block of yeast in warm water. I think that day, it was probably three or four large sieves of flour. I began mixing it, trying my best to make the bread. I used my hands to stir it, and there was not enough water for that amount of water so the dough was very hard to knead.

I went to the window facing the garden where she was working, and yelled to her. "Mom! the dough is too hard!" She shouted, "Put some water in it." I did that, and it was so slippery, the water didn't seem to want to go into the flour because the dough was too hard. It was an awful mess. It was like playing with a lot of slippery mud.

It seems that it finally got to be dough, and I put it to rise. After some time it rose and I divided it into pieces to make loaves of bread, I think it was four large loaves, and let it rise again in the loaf pans. By that time, I'm sure she was finished in the garden and came into the house. I often made or kneaded bread for the family. It was apparently one of my chores.

In later years after I was married and when we were rearing our own children, I made bread very often, and rolls and buns. Cinnamon buns were especially good and we all looked forward to having them.



I'll see you at the Corner Post...