IDIOSYNCRASIES OF FARMLIFE II:

The ground is mostly thawed, it's been raining every other day though. Gets a might chilly getting wet in 42 deg. weather so I've been spending my "springtime energy" going through "stuff" in the attic. So much junk (and some interesting things), you can hardly move around. My goal is, before the hot weather comes, to insulate the entire attic with 6" of pink stuff.
These old farmhouses were built when heating was cheap and it was OK for the house to "breath". Trouble is, when field work is going on, a fine silt makes it's way through every little crack and seam. It is impossible to NOT have a layer of dust everywhere and in everything! Some used newspaper to insulate which makes for an interesting read of what was going on in the late 1800's.

I keep finding bags and bags of old clothing. Nothing usable, most of the time it's cut up into tiny little pieces. These pieces were used as quilt stuffing, the larger pieces of warn clothing were cut up to make the quilt top. Nothing was thrown out, just recycled.

I had a flash-back to my own Grandma Alice. She was raised on a farm in the south. Her mother died while giving birth to her in 1903, guess that happened a lot back then. Her father remarried and that women died giving birth to her first child also. Later, the father married a girl two years older than Alice, who was twelve and proceeded to have a multitude of off-spring. Alice and Becky were best friends, they raised the brood together but sad to say, neither of them EVER had a childhood.

So I grew up with a child-like granny who was oh-so-much fun! Stories I can and will tell! The one that came to mind while sorting through dusty "use every little part - don't throw anything away - farm mentality" scrapes, bits and pieces of cloth, was this:

While in high school, my granddad passed away and I moved in with Grandma Alice to help her past the pangs of grief. She knew me well. After walking four miles home from school, I would be ravenous so the kitchen would be my first stop. One day I came home to the most wonderful, mouth watering, pork roast aroma. The house was quiet so I assumed Grandma was taking an afternoon nap. Nothing was in the oven but her humongous stainless steel soup pot was simmering on the stove. Grabbing a pot holder off the ceramic tile counter I opened the lid. Much to my HORROR, when the foam cleared, a one droopy eyed pig head was staring back at me!! As I screamed, the lid flew out of my hand, hit the ceiling and clanked around on the counter and ended in the sink. Frozen in place, I heard a familiar cackle coming from behind the kitchen door...I had been set up!!

The worst part about the whole episode was, as she continued to cackle, Grandma bounced the once protruding eyeball on the floor for her beloved collie, Tippy. This was my first and last experience with homemade "head-cheese". She let it simmer for a couple more hours till all the secretions rose to the top and gelled as it cooled, GAG! Like I said, farm wives use every little part, nothing goes to waste.