When I was a child we lived on a farm that belonged to my grandmother. She rented it to my parents on a cash basis.
This particular year I'm writing about was the most hot and the most dry of my memory.
The crops and the big vegetable garden were burning in the fields. It was so hot it was indescribable. The well was getting low on water, so our baths were once a week, and we all used the same water. Mother used the dishwater to coax some of her vegetables to grow. The garden helped us to survive the winter. I know this sounds like a Laura Ingalls Wilder book, but the story is true. I was a little girl and was used to not having air conditioning, but I can remember complaining to my mother that it was so hot I couldn’t sleep. She said nothing, but made my brother and I a pallet on the floor by the parlor screen door in case a breath of air came in. It had a south exposure so I guess it was possible. Somehow we managed to get through it, but if I had been grown up and in tune with my parents’ facial expressions I am sure I would have seen worry.
One day black clouds came over the trees that surrounded our house, the wind picked up and I thought this was even worse with so much hot air blowing so fiercely. I can remember it felt like my face was drying up it was just that hot.
Then the rain started to come with great big drops of water. Then it started to pour. It rained so hard and the ground was so hard, that it did not absorb into the ground. It ran away from the house and down the hill. It did not rain a short time. It rained long and hard that day. The smell in the air smelled dirty actually. Like when my mom and I would make mud pies. There was little grass left that year.
My mother, completely out of character was laughing and said, “Get your clothes off, you’re going to have your first shower.” I had no clue what a shower was. But what my mama said in those days we did.Then she put us underneath the eave spout on the porch with a bar of her homemade soap. The water was coming out of the pipe in torrents. It was so cold I was shivering and dancing around. But it was so much fun. I stayed in the water until it quit.
That’s all I remember of the drought. I don’t know if we lost crops, or if the garden failed. I do know that we continued to live on that farm until I was eleven years old. At that time we did move into the small town close by. For the first time in our lives my brother and I came home after school to a house that was empty. My mother had looked for work and found a job working at a grocery store.
I was talking to my cousin about the drought some time ago. She said that my parents had to have some water hauled in. I am sure that was expensive if it had to be on a long term basis. That expense plus many other reasons were a combination of things for moving into town that year.
I will never forget that farm and all of my childhood memories. As the years go by I share all of these memories with my children and grandchildren. Many of them just shake their heads in amazement. They cannot even fathom living without running water and having an indoor bathroom. So the story of sharing bathwater cannot begin to be understood.
As I am writing this little story I sit here and smile to myself because I loved that farm and all of the memories that went with it.
This particular year I'm writing about was the most hot and the most dry of my memory.
The crops and the big vegetable garden were burning in the fields. It was so hot it was indescribable. The well was getting low on water, so our baths were once a week, and we all used the same water. Mother used the dishwater to coax some of her vegetables to grow. The garden helped us to survive the winter. I know this sounds like a Laura Ingalls Wilder book, but the story is true. I was a little girl and was used to not having air conditioning, but I can remember complaining to my mother that it was so hot I couldn’t sleep. She said nothing, but made my brother and I a pallet on the floor by the parlor screen door in case a breath of air came in. It had a south exposure so I guess it was possible. Somehow we managed to get through it, but if I had been grown up and in tune with my parents’ facial expressions I am sure I would have seen worry.
One day black clouds came over the trees that surrounded our house, the wind picked up and I thought this was even worse with so much hot air blowing so fiercely. I can remember it felt like my face was drying up it was just that hot.
Then the rain started to come with great big drops of water. Then it started to pour. It rained so hard and the ground was so hard, that it did not absorb into the ground. It ran away from the house and down the hill. It did not rain a short time. It rained long and hard that day. The smell in the air smelled dirty actually. Like when my mom and I would make mud pies. There was little grass left that year.
My mother, completely out of character was laughing and said, “Get your clothes off, you’re going to have your first shower.” I had no clue what a shower was. But what my mama said in those days we did.Then she put us underneath the eave spout on the porch with a bar of her homemade soap. The water was coming out of the pipe in torrents. It was so cold I was shivering and dancing around. But it was so much fun. I stayed in the water until it quit.
That’s all I remember of the drought. I don’t know if we lost crops, or if the garden failed. I do know that we continued to live on that farm until I was eleven years old. At that time we did move into the small town close by. For the first time in our lives my brother and I came home after school to a house that was empty. My mother had looked for work and found a job working at a grocery store.
I was talking to my cousin about the drought some time ago. She said that my parents had to have some water hauled in. I am sure that was expensive if it had to be on a long term basis. That expense plus many other reasons were a combination of things for moving into town that year.
I will never forget that farm and all of my childhood memories. As the years go by I share all of these memories with my children and grandchildren. Many of them just shake their heads in amazement. They cannot even fathom living without running water and having an indoor bathroom. So the story of sharing bathwater cannot begin to be understood.
As I am writing this little story I sit here and smile to myself because I loved that farm and all of the memories that went with it.
What a cool image of the shower. Thank God kids know very little about the bigger picture.
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