It is a quintessential winter day here at the Chicken Ranch. Snow blanketing the hardened soil, ice sickles hanging from eves, and frigid winds drifting over my tracks as I trudge through the snow to feed the animals. Days of numbing cold have prevailed here lately, and 7 below zero temps today indicate more of the same to come. It is the longest cold spell that we've seen here in a while, but back in the 60's and 70's, these sub-zero nights and frigid days were common for winter.
Forty to fifty years ago, snowdrifts 6 feet high and temperatures 20-30 below were not at all uncommon on the farms where we lived. A 20 below real temp accompanied with winds at 30 mph made for dangerous conditions. Days and days of this kind of weather was and is hard on livestock. It's hard on people too.
My wife, Patty, and I spent some cold winter days together in our young married years. The walls of the old farmhouses where we lived were not insulated, and wind howled through every window seam. You could sit in a chair and feel a cold breeze on your neck as the north wind howled through the window across the room. Patty and I would stuff newspaper and/or rags in every crack or crevice to reduce the effects of the arctic blasts. In one old house we lived in it was not unusual to come into a room after a blizzardly night and find a tiny drift of snow on the window sill inside.
Sometimes the old stoves couldn't heat the whole house, so rooms that weren't absolutely essential would be closed off by shutting the doors or nailing blankets over passageways. Any liquid left in a closed off room would be found frozen later. We tried to heat with wood as much as we could to save on the cost of "coal oil" or of propane for stoves and heaters. Patty, our two tiny girls, and I, would dress as warm as we possibly could. Clothed in flannel, heavy cotton, and wearing wool socks, we kept warm by day, Nighttime found us all under warm blankets topped by colorful heavy quilts made by our grandmothers and by my father-in-law. Our grandmothers gifts of beautifully pattered quilts were perhaps prettier, but no one made a heavier, warmer quilt than Patty's dad. We still have some of those quilts 40 plus years later, and they serve us well yet. They are still full of warmth, both in material and in love from the hands that made them.
Sometimes the pipes from the well would freeze and we would pack pots tight with snow, then heat them up to have water. We had a Nubian dairy goat in a couple of those winters and she provided gallons of fresh milk for the girls. Patty remembers well those cold, cold trips to the straw packed shed to sit on her stool by the stanchion and milk "Glory" the goat. The roads would often blow shut for a few days, so we stayed prepared to be isolated. We kept plenty of food on hand, and often I would trudge out to a wooded draw on the back of the farm and shoot rabbits and squirrels to supplement our meals. We always had beef and pork too; we were in farm country after all. As soon as the roads opened we'd head to the little country store for resupply.
Our favorite country store was owned and operated by a wonderful couple in their late sixty's. Those were the days when groceries ran credit for people. Winters could be hard on some folks, and the sell of a steer or a pig, or a trade for dozens of eggs often "settled the bill." You came in, bought what you needed, then settled your account when you could. Emma and Ellis Griggs owned the store back in those days. They were congenial and hard working folks who had never had children of their own. Ellis was a short stout man with thick gray hair who spoke with a hint of a brogue. He always wore a pleasant smile. He was either at the register or, more often, stocking and cooking at the little grille at the back of the store. Some of the best sandwiches in America came from the back of Griggs grocery. Bologna, ham, liver loaf, souse meat ...you name it, it was there. Sandwich meat was sliced to order, as thick or as thin as you liked. Hamburgers and other fried foods and meals were available too!
Emma was a short round lady with a bulbous nose who could come off as a bit stiff, but she had a laugh that made you just have to laugh with her. She loved children. They especially took to my wife, Patty, and her two sisters when they were girls growing up, and when I showed up to court Patty at age fifteen, they took me in also. After Patty and I married years later, the aging Griggs still owned and operated the store. We'd buy our groceries, sometimes "on a ticket" and pay as quick as we could. The Griggs always fawned over the children. They were generous with their candy, much to the kid's liking.
It was a wonderful old store built originally in the 1800's then rebuilt in the early 1900's after a fire. It hasn't been a store in the decades since the Griggs passing, but the building still stands today. Every time we drive by that place we smile at the fond memories of two old folks who showed such kindness to us as teens, and then as a young married couple.
These days we live in comfort during the cold winters. The fireplace burns brightly for our visual comfort as much as anything. A high efficiency furnace heats the well-insulated house, although compared to many other folks, we keep our house quite cool; maybe we retain a little fondness for those cold old farmhouses. A wood stove warms the shop out back. No, the winters aren't what they used to be, nor is our response to them.
I'll finish feeding the chickens, load the wood stove in the shop, then carry fresh wood to the fireplace. I'll wrap my hands around a coffee cup, Patty will have her tea, then we'll sit in front of the crackling fire. I'll look out the window at the cold. As the flames do their spirit dances up and over the logs, I'll allow their hypnotic efforts to lull me away. I will travel in my mind back to those drafty old farm houses. I'll listen to the wind howling and hear the music of a little family snug in the warmth and the love of a home long ago. I'll sink a little deeper in my chair, and maybe pull one of our wonderful old quilts over my lap.
I'll look out at the drifting snow, and as I sip my coffee, I'll hear Mr. Griggs say, "Put this on your ticket, Kevin ?" No, this coffee is paid for, but how will I ever pay for the friendly kindnesses that they in their little grocery showed to all of us for all those years? It was so very long ago. Well... I can see Mrs. Griggs standing in the filtered sunlight of the window next to the cash register, chuckling, and with a smile saying, "Just pay us when you can".
