Thanksgiving at home

Mom was a wonderful cook and she did it all. She was always up early anyway but on Thanksgiving morning I would wake up to the smell of turkey. It wasn't hard to imagine this huge bird cover lightly with foil that we couldn't view unless we happened to be close by when it was basted with drippings. It never seemed as though mom was flustered as she prepared potatoes, vegetables and her famous cream cheese pineapple jello salad. That salad has been a favorite always and a fond memory of mom whenever I prepare it. She most always decorated that salad with maraschino cherries and, more than once, the cherries disappeared before it ever reached the table. "Those darn kids, " and then she would smile that smile that showed how much love she had in her heart for all of us. Oh, how I miss her. The table is set the food is about to be put on the table and, what do you know, my older brother and family are late. Dad would tell mom, "tell them 3:00 if you plan to serve it at 1:00". She did finally follow his advice and it worked for a while. Morgan David wine was served on Thanksgiving and Christmas. It was the only time I remember wine at the table with dinner. After eating so much food it was hard to even move. Dad fell asleep in the chair and the rest of us just kind of hung out and helped do dishes. Kitchen is now clean and it is time for pumpkin pie and real whipped cream. Thanksgiving was mostly a happy day. I say mostly because generally there was some negative that crept into the mix. God has helped us get past the past but my prayer is that because of past, the younger generation knows Him early in life.

More Memories

Teaching the calves to drink from a bucket after they were weened was one chore I didn't mind doing. The bucket was about 1/2 full of milk and the calf would suck my fingers and I would lower his/her head into the bucket. When it felt like he/she was drinking on their own, I would remove my fingers from their mouth. It usually took about 3 or 4 tries but they caught on pretty fast. That was a fun chore, cleaning the chicken coup wasn't. As I write this I can almost choke on the ammonia smell. It was a big accomplishment though and putting down fresh straw gave it a clean and fresh smell. The old hens were less likely to peck me when I fished an egg out from under them. They really scared me. I mentioned earlier that I had a horse named Lucky. Lucky and I were best friends and chased many a make believe indian around the field and over ditches. Mom never let me ride with a saddle because she was afraid I would get throwed and catch my foot in a stirrup. When Lucky and I took off at full speed I felt I was a part of him. I would lock my legs around him, lean over his head and fly like the wind. When I was about 12 or 13 I began losing interest in riding and Lucky was sold to another younger girl. I didn't see him again. It was hard to see him go but I knew he would be happier with someone who spent more time with him. As I remember that day, I get a little teary because I was already beginning to get my priorities all screwed up. If is only a word!

More Memories

Leaving you with Cheese & Catsup sandwiches was not being very considerate of your palates but then consider this. As I said before my father lived by old world standards. Butchering a steer or a pig or a chicken meant eating all parts. Head cheese, tongue sandwiches, brains, pigs feet and chicken feet plus mom rendered fat to make soap. I liked tongue and chicken feet but not the other stuff. Mom would scramble eggs and brains together to trick my brother and me into eating it. It didn't work! The winter weather was also a factor growing up on the farm. I remember one time when dad tied a rope to the back door and trudged through the storm to the barn and corral, located about 100 yards from the house. He did this so he could find his way back to the house when he was finished feeding and watering. Milking cows early in the morning when it was cold was no fun. Mom would milk 3 and I would milk 2. All the cows were named by my mom but I can only remember Bessie. Bessie was pretty tame but more than once she would put her hind leg in the bucket after I had filled it about 1/2 full. I was always afraid I would get in trouble but mom was always very understanding. We separated cream from the milk by a hand cranked separator. There was a reservoir on top to pour the milk. The raw milk ran through discs and cream came out one spigot and milk out of another. How it worked I don't know but I do know how much I hated washing all the parts of that separator.

Harvest Time

When the barley and wheat were ready to cut, a binder was hooked to a flywheel John Deere tractor. Sometimes I rode on the binder raising the blade in between twine tied bundles. After the bundles were tied we would select four and stand them head side up and put another 3 or 4 against them. This allowed them to dry before running them through the thrasher. The really exciting time for me was all the farmers gathering together to thrash each others crops. The thrasher was huge and ran on a flywheel from a tractor. Wagons with wire mesh sides pulled by tractors moved slowly through the fields and people walking beside them would toss up the bundles and the wagons would take them to the thrasher. The thrasher would separate the wheat or barley from the chaff. Results were a truck load of wheat and a stack of straw for cattle bedding. Mom would start butchering chickens several days before harvest. She held down their wings, placed their heads on the chopping block and "Whack!" off with their heads. She tossed them in the yard where they would hop around until they were dead. We would then scald them, pluck them and remove the insides. I think I could still clean a gizzard without breaking the sack. The food prepared for the thrashing crew was fantastic. Platters and Platters of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, biscuits and berry and cream pies. All the women worked together and seemed to enjoy every minute. My horse Lucky and I would ride between the house and the field trying not to get in the way. Oh, one thing I remember when we were shocking grain. Mom asked me to go to the house and make sandwiches for everyone. My favorite sandwich as the time was cheese and catsup on white bread. They ate it but it was a long time before they let me forget how horrible those sandwiches were.

Backyard gardening

Chapter One

Harry Koch (cook), my father, was the youngest of 10 children. Peter and Marie, father and mother of this brood, were immigrant Germans. They came to the US in the late 1800's from Russia and arrived at Ellis Island with at least of 3 of their first born. I wish I knew all the details of their struggles but do know they began migrating to the West by working in the fields across the Midwest. Dad was born in Rochester, Wyoming and was a small boy when his father was able to purchase land in Billings, Montana. They raised sugar beets, barley and wheat. Much hard work and most done by old world methods. Water was pulled from a well and heated on a coal and wood stove. Clothes were washed on washboards and hung on wire clothes lines strung between wooden supports resembling crosses. I was born in 1942 and much of my early childhood remembers how hard and stiff the clothes were and how uncomfortable they felt until the warmth of my body would soften them. Old habits are hard to break so old world customs remained in effect. Gosh, this might just be too difficult to write. So much happened. Lots of which is unpleasant to recall.

Writing Stories

Alexis will have a new story by this time next week. Putting together the pages and finding a cartoonish picture of "Ranger Rick" will complete the labor of love. Alexis is my angel and a blessing from God. She was created to do God's work even if she isn't aware of it. Friday was Michelle's 39th birthday and today Jason turns 36. Where has the time gone? Seems like yesterday that they, along with brother, Brian were climbing Multnomah Falls with me. Jason needed me to carry him some of the time but, for 3 years old, he was quite a trooper. I get a little teary as I recall those days and realize that before long he will carry me. It may be 20 years from now but eventually those beautiful little children will carry me through as I deteriorate. With God's help and dedication on my part, I pray I will be able to write about the past. Because technology is taking us on such a speeding ride into the future, it would be easy for my children and grandchildren to lose sight of how hard life was on the farm. Now there's a thought, maybe this blog will be the start of my true life novel.

And life goes on

It's been awhile and there is no particular excuse. Sometimes when the table top has not been viewed for several weeks because of Creative Memories pages, incomplete artwork and just plain junk the mind is likewise cluttered. In the past making a "To Do List" has been helpful in reorganizing and completing tasks but this time no such luck. My trip to Oregon and Washington for 12 days was such a great time but fall is a busy time for me here. Being involved with volunteer work at the hospital and a desire to work with the local food bank means scheduling and committing. Praise God, good friendships have developed these past 4 years and I enjoy spending time enjoying their company. Oh yes, getting back to the blogging part, there has just been too much to talk about to talk about it. Told you my mind is cluttered. Last night I was privileged to see a performance of "Phantom of the Opera". It was a Broadway tour cast who performed at the ASU Gammage theater in Tempe. It was amazing. The sets, costumes, music and special effects were outstanding. It is way out of my league but really set the juices flowing again to be on stage. Maybe in time I will feel confident enough to seek out a way to join a theater group. The patio received a face lift today. Not only did all the cobwebs and dirt get washed off but there are now three pots full of colorful blooms gracing the way to the putting green. I'll take pictures and post them because, with my ungreen thumb, they will probably be dead in three days. Tomorrow is coffee at Lilos with my Titus 2 group and then off to a jewelry party. God bless each of you. More blogging to come, I promise.