Tiemann Chapter 15/Annual Plant Sale

Following Chapter 15 is information about the Cavendish Historical Society’s annual plant sale.  To read the prelude and other chapters of Tiemann’s Memoirs go to Coming to Vermont (Cavendish): Memoirs of Philip Tiemann.

The weather changed (they say in Vermont, "If you don't like it, just wait ten minutes.") May was on the dry side so the roads could be work­ed on by the town crew, which used a scraper to fill in and level the ruts. The worst spots were spread with whet they termed "gravel" but looked like sand to us. In any event it helped the drying process and soon mud season was a memory.

The children went back to school and one afternoon came in with clumps of lovely arbutus ("May flower"), the first they had ever seen. It grew beside our own roadside, and later we discovered other small patches, some of which still exist. Next we noticed yellow and white violets (the blue ones came later) and the roadsides and woods soon were gay with a variety of tiny blossoms. These were followed by the flowering bushes and small trees, when the shed and wild cherry blos­soms were like white smoke against the hillsides, and their fragrance filled the air,

As a break for Isabel after the long winter, I took her to a Ladies' Meeting,- this was the Home Demonstration Club, a state-wide rural org­anization with professional leaders who introduced new ideas and im­proved methods to local groups, who held monthly meetings at each others homes. - Then I went home and began "picking stone," a never‑ ending chore on our Vermont land where it has been recently plowed. It was good to be able to get into the fields again. Now I was up before five; did chores, had breakfast at 6:45, and was at the day's work by eight. During the month of May the major planting must be done_, else it is too late for crops to mature. I had great plans some of which materialized. First of all came the plowing but when I tried my hand at it I found it harder than it looked and made poor progress. So I was fortunate to have enough hay-land to exchange for getting a good-sized piece of hay land turned over. The harrowing (to break up the sods and leave the bed relatively smooth) I could do myself, using first a double set of discs, and then a spring-tooth cultivator set at its widest adjustment. The equipment I speak of had been included in the bargain when I dickered for the place, and with a little ingenuity would take care of basic needs.

By the 15th I was ready to sow oats, and did an acre,- Isabel helping. We tried broadcasting seed by hand but results were uneven.- When I was pleased to discover hanging in the barn a contraption which did the job much more efficiently: this was a bag-like affair with a whirligig below. The canvas bag hung against the chest by a strap around the neck and held a quantity of seed. There was an adjustable aperture in the bottom and when you walked along a row turning a crank the whirligig distributed the seed in  fixed pattern and quantity. So we used this to finish the oats, and then for an additional half-acre of barley.

I had to contrive a "smoother"' to cover' the seed enough to protect it from the birds, which arrived in flocks.' The first one I made by boring holes in a _.2x4 and thrusting the' ends of brushy branches into the holes, and then dragging it behind Dan. This proved to be too light to be effective so I discarded the branches and made a frame with boards across it to be weighted with stones; this worked better. Having read that soy beans make good hay I put in over an acre, but as these would not work in the planter they had to be sowed by hand. The final field planting comprised two 3/4 acre pieces in corn. The seed had to be properly spaced and covered, so I used a hoe to do part of it and then tried a hand-planter for the remainder. This modest gadget worked like a bellows: you walked along a row and at each pace punched the end of the planter into the ground and worked the handles, which both placed a cluster of kernels at the right depth and released a similar number from the magazine (just a can on one of the handles, with in adjustable feed.) This worked fine for hills, but for rows a hoe was better.

This planting all was done in the south mowing, below and abreast of a little group of fruit trees someone had set out, apparently as the beginning of an orchard which got no further.- A number of apple trees lived, to grow and give good fruit in later years, but it was an  inconvenient spot; they were in the way when mowing, and distant from the house, and I didn't much regret it when most of them died.(from the activities of borers in the summer, and mice eating the bark in winter.)

Along with the dry weather there was a hot spell, not unusual for the end of May but this was a couple of weeks early. It was fine for help­ing things grow. Also it apparently dried out the ground behind the house where we wanted the kitchen garden. This proved deceptive. It was a naturally moist piece, made more so by the kitchen drain. When a man came to plow, the earth proved soggy and he had a difficult time and was so obviously skeptical, in a very polite way, that I should have been warned. The harrowing also went badly, the soil sticking to the, discs. This was far from the fine, soft loam required to start tiny seeds. Planting turned out to be a messy job with no pleasure in it. About this garden I can only add that we had poor results after a great deal of unnecessarily hard. work. But I did learn something -­and the next year had the garden in a better place.

The baby chicks came, and we all got quite a kick out of the funny little balls of yellow fluff.^, I built a pen where they could be warm and safe,. yes, in the summer kitchen, where we had again moved. There they grew and throve and were very much in the way.

Then, to the delight of the kids, the long summer vacation began.

Annual Plant Sale: As Tiemann found, May is planting season in Vermont. The Cavendish Historical Society (CHS) has been transplanting and potting many different types of plants since the middle of May for the annual plant sale started by Craig Rankin, a landscape architect. Craig believed everyone in Cavendish (and beyond) deserved to have an affordable hosta. We are continuing the tradition, and this year the plant sale will be on June 27 (Saturday) on the Museum grounds from 9-2. We have lots of different native plants, including hosta, bearded Iris of different colors, Siberian Iris, day lilies, plus a number of other plants and shrubs. Hope to see you there.

Tiemann Memoirs Chapter 14/Sugar on Snow Recipe

Following Chapter 14 are directions to make “Sugar on Snow.” To read the prelude and other chapters of Tiemann’s Memoirs go to Coming to Vermont (Cavendish): Memoirs of Philip Tiemann.

Hardly had the scaffold been moved when, just before Easter, there was another blizzard. Then on Easter it reined most of the day and got very messy.

Of course we could do no wagering and feared the season would pass; even if the sap continued to run it becomes dark and strong after the leaf buds begin to swell. It is the first run, which makes superior table syrup, which (contrary to what city folks think) is light in color and has a delicate flavor. Later runs can be used only up to a point; toward the end the very dark syrup is good only to season smoking tobacco, for which purpose a large quantity is sold.

During the worst weather it was not too cold to work out in the shed room, where I began ripping down the board ceiling. Even without plaster dust it was as dirty a job, as had been that in the house. The boarding was thin, light stuff, easily split, and not much could be salvaged. This applied also to the walls. It was a considerable fire hazard as, having been papered over, it could have been ignited by a spark..- We also hoped the room would be cooler when used as the sum­mer kitchen if it was open to the roof.

In between times I carried out rotten potatoes from the cellar and more junk from places of concealment in the attic: things had been tucked under the eves before the more inaccessible part was boarded off, and even under the floor where I came across a wool card,- the only thing worth keeping. Always was the stable and chicken coop to keep clean, and I managed to spread four loads of manure out back of the house where we planned to have the kitchen garden. Convenient as this spot was, there was enough snow left to give Dan difficulty. Bringing up some of the new-cut wood seemed easy by comparison.

Also on a couple of fair days the slating job was resumed.

The season had now arrived when all good farmers work from "kin see to can't see." It was light enough in the morning so I was getting up at 5:30, altho the habit was hard to resume. As the snow melted fast in the sun it started the spring clamor of the brooks and this was a grand sound albeit somewhat awe-inspiring, especially on one of the frequent rainy days. Then the rush of water was accompanied by the grinding of big stones as the current moved them inexorably down-stream. But the finest to hear was the bird-song, which early risers can appreciate best: Already there were robins, always such cheery fellows, and song sparrows and even bluebirds.

For a few days more sugaring was in full blast. The term is used loosely to apply to the whole process from tapping the trees (always hard ("rock") maples) thru boiling down to canning syrup and finishing some off as sugar.' Here-abouts considerable "soft" sugar was put up in large pails from which it could be spooned to use as a spread or re-melted for syrup. In that and subsequent years we generally made enough syrup for our own use, but never had a surplus to sell. Yet people were asking if we couldn't send them some and it seemed too bad to let a ready market go begging; so Isabel made some local con­tacts, was able to purchase a moderate quantity of excellent grade at a good price, and shipped it off in quota and gallons at a nice profit. She built up a small but steady custom and it was this kind of thing, minor in itself, which helped keep us going.

We also had the pleasure of our first "sugar on snow," a delicacy which is fast disappearing. Done in the old-fashioned way_s one of the neighbor women would ask in a few friends and sort them around a table with milk pans of firm-packed snow in front of each. The syrup, probably made from "soft sugar," would be heating on the stove, and at just the proper consistency it was brought to the table in a pitcher and poured in curlicues over the snow, harden­ing to the point where it could be picked up with a fork. Ummm! With it there were doughnuts and, if very correct, sour pickles. One party like this would do me for a long time, but the kids never got tired of them. Now a-days they are popular for church socials.

I was fortunate to get the roofing paper-a good grade-on the new chicken-house between showers, of which we had more than a sufficiency. This at least protected the structure, but much remained to be done. - It seemed more important to me to finish with the house roof, so rather then waiting for the slate all to be in place I went a head on nice days to finish painting the front eaves, which involved some repair, and also puttying old nail^-holes. Vie wanted to get the scaffold down before visitors began to arrive.

It was a satisfaction to have the house in good order (at least, in com­parison to the wry it had been.) The attic gave us a superlative storage space-until it became so cluttered it had to be cleared again, which seems the habit with attics. I've always wondered how a family can get along without one. It has even been useful as a play-place for the grandchildren....

Before the snow had quite disappeared from the garden, I started digging parsnips,- a root crop which is best left in the ground during the winter as freezing is supposed to improve the quality. After trying them, sliced and fried, the family voted that they could be left - period This was unfortunate, as they were supposed to eke out our failing larder But there are some things which it seems one must grow up with to appre­ciate. We came to this conclusion, later on, about dandelion greens and milkweed tips,- both considered delicacies hereabout.

Signs of spring at last were multiplying. Between heavy rains came days of lovely warm sun. The seed-flats in the south window were filled with rows of green sprouts. A few hens had already gotten over their broodi­ness end were beginning to 1ay again,- altho with eggs bringing only 16¢ a dozen this did not help much toward the increasing price of feed. But then the "peepers" in the back brook began to sing and we never had heard anything like their shrill, steady symphony,- which would die to silence in an instant if they were disturbed. These tiny frogs, coming out from their mud beds, seem to know without fail when spring is here.  I have mentioned mud season, which that year lasted a month but we thought never would end. Getting places was more difficult and uncertain then even in midwinter. To use runners was impossible and wheels not much better, when in some spots a vehicle might "sink to the X’s." With a horse one could generally keep going, albeit at a snail's paces but a car would stop right there and often only a team could get it out. So travel was negligible, and limited to necessity as when I had to go to the village to pick up grain, using the lumber wagon of course.

Sugar on Snow Recipe: While Tiemann provides a general idea of how to make sugar on snow, Isabel would have gauged whether it was done by sight or by testing it periodically by dropping some into a glass of cold water, or onto the snow.  

• Use a heavy pot and boil syrup slowly to 232-255 (soft boil stage) on a candy thermometer. Test by dropping small amounts onto a pan of snow or ice. The syrup should stay on top of the surface.

• Scoop snow into a large bowl or pan (freeze snow in containers)

• Drizzle the hot syrup over the snow

• Use a fork to pull off the sticky top layer

• Serve with sour pickles and doughnuts.

If you want to make this in the summer, use crushed or shaved ice in place of snow.  Better yet, pour it over ice cream. Yummm.

Memoirs Chapter 13/Sugaring

 

Sugaring in Cavendish 2015. Photograph by Svetlana Phillips

Following Chapter 13 is information about “sugaring” in Cavendish.  To read the prelude and other chapters of Tiemann’s Memoirs go to Coming to Vermont (Cavendish): Memoirs of Philip Tiemann.

I bought a pair of bear-paw snowshoes with some Christmas money. This type is stubby and broad, without a tail, and is adapted for getting around in brushy or rough country. $o I was able to go into the woods despite the deep snow, and began to do a little chopping. This was new type of work and I was not adept at it, but in time I had plenty of practice.

Below the house, between the road and the large mowing, is an area thru which the back brook flows, and has always (I imagine) been lowed to remain wooded as it is no good for anything else. The growth is mixed. Maple and pine had been logged, but a fine new scattering of rock maple had started up, and I  had a vision of  a sugar bush in this convenient spot. It needed a lot of clearing and thinning. There were yellow birch, elm, beech, ash, and the usual weed trees such as wild cherry and soft maple, And opposite it, the growth between the road,:. and Tracer Brook was similar. I didn't look any further for a "wood lot," To be in,business,  all I had to do was put my wedges in my pocket, shoulder ax sledge, and snow-shoes, walk about a hundred yards down the road, kick into the snowshoe harness, and step in among the trees. "And get two jobs done in one operation," I thought.

It turned out to have been good judgment, and this is where I got our fuel during most of the years we burned wood, which was until 1963. Several times I chopped, or had chopping done, over by the road which is our eastern boundary, partly to eke out the supply but also to make use of some old "gone by" trees.

But I couldn't spend all my time getting up wood. "Where are you going to put those new chickens?" Isabel wanted to know. So I started work on the new chicken house_s, which already existed in skeleton form. When we came, there was a good stone foundation and part of a frame for a lean-to shed against the south side of the big. barn, into which a doorway had been out. Altho apparently intended for cows,. it seemed it would serve us much better for chickens, so I began making modifi­cations. As it was too large for our immediate needs I decided to have three compartments; we'd use one immediately and have the remaining space in reserve. It all needed to be roofed and floored and sheathed and was another of those jobs, which turned out much bigger than anticipated. It had to be part-time work, which always seems to drag; also I was "learning while doing." Fortunately there was on hand a supply of rough-sawed boards; of uneven quality, it still saved me some ex­pense for sheathing.

The first of March was like spring. Such days come to deceive, one into thinking winter is over. It induced me to make up an order for veget­able seeds, which was fun, altho it still was months to out-door plant­ing time and longer yet to getting a crop. This realization took some of the joy out of life, as we had only a few jars of tomatoes and pickles left in the cellar and some dried beans in the attics. Having to spend more for food really hurt.

However, keeping busy is a good antidote for worry. There remained plenty to be done in the house. Isabel just then was scraping and cleaning some of the old spruce panels preparatory to their being put in place above the kitchen mantels This required that I first remove plaster^-and lath and fill up the stove-pipe hole. But before I could do that there had to be a hole made thru the ceiling and the floor above so the pipe could go up, and into the chimney in the bed-room: a rough and "temporary” job. At-a much later date, in Montpelier, I came across and purchased an unusual circular register made for just this situation, with a plate in the canter to remove for the pipe to pass thru. Meantime a tin box with a hole in the middle (as fire protection)/had to serve, but even with this we noticed the room was warmer. - Of course the kitchen again was in a fine mess, but when the panels were in place and the small strip of Sheetrock ceiling fitted in against them it made a nice looking job.

When we first came to Windy Hill we used to be amused by the stories of the varied uses to which a kitchen might be put. But no longer. That March a couple of sick hens were only the first in a procession over the years of live stock needing special attention and warmth... Eggs had increased to about sixteen a day, almost 100%, one of them weighing “a quarter of a pound. But still no calf.

By mid-month the winter really started to break. Altho replenished quite regularly the snow was settling, and as the frost ca^,me out of the roads they degenerated to that horrible condition of muck and ruts which annually brought traffic practically to a standstill. In short, it was "mud season." The children thought this was fine as they began a monthly hol­iday, meant to coincide with the bad going.

As many days were pleasant I continued the tree-pruning, doing six tipples and the big old crab. This was interrupted when Dan put his foot through the floor of his stall, and I found it so rotten it required complete re­placement. I luckily was able to get at the mill (the same piece that ground my meal in the fall) some thick bridge planks of elm, the best of flooring for a stable. Dan was scarcely earning his keep, with only an occasional job now that the wood was all hauled. Nor was it good for him to stand so much of the time in the barn. We used him for occasional trips to the village,  as when Wy and I drove him to the freight office to pick up some rolls of roofing for the chicken-house.

A boy calf at last arrived,- on March 17 so of course he was "Pat." It was quite an event for the children, who had been most interested in progress. Fortunately there were no complications other than "caked bag" which is not unusual. The cowls udder became hard and feverish, partly, in this case, because the calf was limited in his energetic efforts (bunting and kneading and working at the teats) to get food. We wanted to wean him promptly. Hot compresses and rubbing in a salve, together with regular milling, soon worked a cure.

While this was going on we were setting a few sap buckets, borrowed ­with spouts - from our good neighbor. "Don't bore the holes too deep" he cautioned me. "The sap layer of wood is just inside the bark. Put them on the sunny side, not much higher than the snow level." "I don't suppose we will need very much," I remarked. He snickered. Well it takes about a barrel of sap to make a gallon of syrup." I was skeptical, but he wasn't kidding. We emptied n dozen buckets, more or less full, twice a day for a couple of days and soon had pans of sap steam­ing on every stove in the house before it snowed and spoiled the run. And we finished off enough syrup for breakfast one morning.

The bad weather also held up my plan to paint the eves in the rear of the house before moving the scaffold to the front. (The neatly-laid stack looked beautiful.) Instead, I prepared some seed "flats" (shal­low boxes of any convenient size) with earth and planted yellow tomatoes, onions, cabbages, and cauliflowers,• a bit late as it proved; these things start slowly and should be in by Lincoln's Birthday. They require resetting to give them greater strength and plenty of room, before going out doors about mid*May for most things, but not before Decoration Day for tomatoes which are susceptible to late frost. While I was inside Isabel kept me company working on her first hooked rug: she became very skillful at this, and also braiding. - But it seemed the cold and snow would never end.

The chickens had suffered during the cold, and from their heavy produc­tion; another was sick and one died. But our new cow "Maria" proved to be a good producer, giving better than ten quarts a day. Pat was growing fine: before the end of two weeks I estimated his weight between 60 and 70 pounds, and already he was more than Wyeth could handle. He also was almost weaned. The udder congestion had cleared up so we could use the milk, and with such abundance we set it in pens over night when the cream could be skimmed off and soon Isabel had enough to make our first butter,- a great occasion. Then I got the crank separator to function and this turned out to be more efficient. Pat had to be sat­isfied with skim milk, but he was too greedy to notice the difference.

At last came a few days of good weather so I could do the painting job. We then moved the staging to the front of the house.

Sugaring in Cavendish: The short sugar season in 1934 was not unusual, as “sugaring” can very from year to year in its duration along with the quantity and quality of the syrup produced. The same year that the Tiemanns made their first batch, Homer Kingsbury, who lived several miles away on Chubb Hill, sold 14 gallons to the First National Store in Ludlow at $1.23 per gallon. Read Sugaring in Cavendish