From the files of Don Kirk…Part 3. The Spirit of Christmas on the Farm
The Farm
In 1910 my granddad bought the northeast corner (160 acres) of this square mile of land. There was a house and well there, but the low ground caused winter storms to heap the snow four and five feet deep. My grandpa knew this before he bought the land, so that first summer he moved the house south to high ground with a wonderful view. This two-story house was built before 1900. There are three large rooms on the first floor and one big room on the second floor. In 1911 Grandpa built a huge kitchen on the west side of the house which serves as both kitchen and dining room. The rustic house is very cozy in winter and cool in summer. There are no power lines within 10 miles of the farm, so there is no electricity. The phone is electric, of course, but my dad explained to me long ago that the phone company is separate from the power company. Phone company power will only work the phone, nothing else.
A few farms out here have generators, but Grandpa doesn’t think he needs one. At nighttime grandma lights several kerosene lamps from her large collection of metal and glass lamps. The chimneys are clear glass, most of the shades are white glass. The shade keeps the bright light out of your eyes when you read right under the lamp. When you want the most light from the lamp, don’t use the shade. Most of the lamps have a flat wick you crank up out of a slot in the metal top. You light the wick with a match and then put the clear glass chimney over the flame. Now and then the wick must be trimmed. Grandma uses scissors to cut off the carbon down to fresh wick so the lamp will give better light. This is a tedious task and grandma likes help. But If you don’t do a good job, she won’t let you trim the wicks. I make sure I never get very good at it.
Besides the house, the farm includes a barn big enough for 50 cows, a pig shed, two large chicken houses and a machine shop. When grandpa has to go out to one of these buildings in the dark, he carries a big kerosene lantern to light the way. The long wire bail or handle keeps his hand well above the lantern’s heat.
A shed, attached to the kitchen, holds several tons of coal and some kindling to get fires started. Since all cooking is done on the enormous kitchen range, a fire burns in that stove winter and summer. The kitchen gets hot in summer but comfortable in winter. Kindling isn’t much used because the fire in the kitchen almost never goes out, being carefully ‘banked’ each night to make for easy starting in the morning. In winter, like right now, the fires in both the kitchen range and the living room stove are kept going ‘round the clock.
There is no bathroom in this old house. An outhouse about 100 feet behind the kitchen serves the purpose. No fun in winter. At night, we use a big, covered, enameled pot that grandpa calls the “night-owl.” This must be dumped in the outhouse the next day and the pot cleaned. Bathing is done in a washtub in the kitchen. Lots of hot water dipped out of the kitchen range reservoir is poured into the tub and cooled with well water. A bar of homemade soap and a clean washrag are in an old pie pan on the floor next to the tub. A bath towel hangs on a nearby chair. Everybody leaves the kitchen except the bather who sits in the warm water, feet hanging over the side of the tub. Taking a bath is a good time to sneak cookies.
For water, a 350 foot deep well was drilled just south of the kitchen and a huge wooden water tank installed. The water tank sits on a big concrete slab on the ground. I don’t know how many water tanks have worn out since 1910, but the one now on the slab is new. Since the well and water tank are slightly downhill from the house, water won’t run by gravity into the kitchen. Grandpa installed a cast-iron hand pump next to the kitchen sink. He says it’s the same hand pump put there in 1910. When some moving part inside wears out he just repairs it. To get water you have to prime the pump. If this isn’t done, you can pump forever and never get any water. A small bucket of water is kept next to the sink. To prime the pump, pour a couple cups of water into the top. Work the handle up and down, and pretty soon out comes a good flow of water.
A windmill does a good job of keeping the storage tank full. Enough water runs through this large tank that it doesn’t freeze in winter. A stock tank is kept full too, but it must be stopped from freezing with a special kerosene heater.
Over the years grandpa has bought the other quarter-sections so that he now owns the entire square mile of 640 acres. The house sits almost in the middle of that section of farmland.
The Spirit Of Christmas
We put our bags in the first floor bedroom. My folks have a double bed and I a single, both in the same room. The mattresses are comfortable homemade featherbeds. Coal fires in the living room stove and the great kitchen range do a good job of heating the house.
Suddenly, I realize there is no Christmas tree, but there are plenty of presents piled on the living room floor where the tree should be. Where it has always been. No tree? I ask grandpa about the tree. He sighs and says that for weeks there has been one heavy snowstorm after another, and today is the first time he has plowed his road in over a month. He hasn’t been able to get to town to buy a tree.
I say I understand, and mean it, but I am pretty disappointed. My grandmother goes out on the covered front porch and comes back with a short, very gnarled, cottonwood stump she likes to sit on in the summer. How about that instead of a Christmas tree? I try to look enthused. We break out the decorations and start to work on the stump. Grandpa watches for a minute, and then says he’s got to feed the chickens and leaves the house. I drape “icicles” on the stump and stand back, wondering how to put ornaments on it. My mom manages to hang an ornament or two on the rugged bark. And then we all just stand there, silently gazing at the stump.
We hear stamping of feet on the porch. Someone knocking the snow off their boots. My dad looks out and opens the door for my grandpa who enters the living room with a small fruit tree. He has nailed three boards to the bottom of the tree and stands it near the wall. My mother is shocked that grandpa cut down a fruit tree. The tree helps provide food in season. But grandpa says he has a lot of these trees, and this one wasn’t doing very well, anyway. He says he doesn’t have any fir or pine trees, so he hopes this tree will do. I’m practically teary with what he has done. I like the tree and I say so. Grandpa looks convinced because he smiles broadly and starts putting decorations on the tree himself. Before long we have it covered with ornaments and a lot of small candles in special holders clipped to the branches.
We don’t light the candles until after supper when we are in the living room around the warm fire. The wind comes up again, and it is snowing. Grandma plays the piano while we sing Christmas carols. Then my dad reads Charles Dickens’ Christmas Carol aloud to us, skillfully shortening it so that he finishes by bedtime. We go to our featherbeds, relaxed and happy, snug inside the house with the storm blasting away outside. Grandma made a huge pot pie for breakfast. In the morning the pie will be put in the warming oven of the kitchen range. My mom will make sourdough biscuits that we will cover with homemade butter and wonderberry jelly.
After breakfast we will light the candles on the Christmas tree. Grandpa, who reads his Bible every day, will read the story of the birth of Jesus in Matthew. He will then give thanks for all that we have and for His protection, of which none of us are in doubt, from the storm outside while we are warm and comfortable inside. Then we will open our Christmas presents.
My dad says we should come to the farm more often in the winter because the speedometer in our car says it’s only 114 miles from our house.