Quoting benita:

Subsistence farmers, is probably the correct term, for my deceased Grandparents. They would of been considered poor, especially by today's standards. However I don't remember them ever needing anything, that they didn't have.
I lived in town with my Mom and Dad. Electricity, TV, indoor plumbing, refrigerator, electric stove, and central heat, were just a few luxuries, that most take for granted.

I loved to stay with Grannie. I was up there every weekend, and most all of the summers. To me, it was an adventure. It never ceased to amaze me; how Grannie knew how, to do so many things. Her knowledge of the land, weather, people, was vast and often untapped. Since all eleven of her children, had migrated to the city.

You have to be pretty dedicated, and tough. To come from the city one day, and the next night, you're sitting in an outhouse. By lamplight, it's 20 degrees, and you are rubbing Sears Catalog pages together, to make them soft enough, to wipe with. Sears catalogs, they were essential, and very functional, as well.
Grannie ordered what little she needed from them.

That outhouse was spooky. It was a three seater. The wind would make the outhouse whistle. Not to mention, how cold your bottem got. I made Grannie stand outside and watch for wolves, bears, and all kind of buggers and spooks, that my little mind would conjure up. Mostly thanks to my Mom's obsession with telling us ghost stories.

Then it would be a mad dash back to the house. Climbing up onto that great big feather bed, and sliding under the quilts, hoping my spot was still warm. Drifting off to sleep, dreaming about feeling safe, and all the wonderful animals, I would get to play with the next day.

There were play times but first came work. It was always fun. It never seemed like chores. Up at the crack of dawn. Roosters crowing as I'm out to gather eggs and help(mainly watch) Grannie milk the cow. She had gotten up before anyone and had lit the fire in the wood stove. I wasn't t...

Subsistence farmers, is probably the correct term, for my deceased Grandparents. They would of been considered poor, especially by today's standards. However I don't remember them ever needing anything, that they didn't have.
I lived in town with my Mom and Dad. Electricity, TV, indoor plumbing, refrigerator, electric stove, and central heat, were just a few luxuries, that most take for granted.

I loved to stay with Grannie. I was up there every weekend, and most all of the summers. To me, it was an adventure. It never ceased to amaze me; how Grannie knew how, to do so many things. Her knowledge of the land, weather, people, was vast and often untapped. Since all eleven of her children, had migrated to the city.

You have to be pretty dedicated, and tough. To come from the city one day, and the next night, you're sitting in an outhouse. By lamplight, it's 20 degrees, and you are rubbing Sears Catalog pages together, to make them soft enough, to wipe with. Sears catalogs, they were essential, and very functional, as well.
Grannie ordered what little she needed from them.

That outhouse was spooky. It was a three seater. The wind would make the outhouse whistle. Not to mention, how cold your bottem got. I made Grannie stand outside and watch for wolves, bears, and all kind of buggers and spooks, that my little mind would conjure up. Mostly thanks to my Mom's obsession with telling us ghost stories.

Then it would be a mad dash back to the house. Climbing up onto that great big feather bed, and sliding under the quilts, hoping my spot was still warm. Drifting off to sleep, dreaming about feeling safe, and all the wonderful animals, I would get to play with the next day.

There were play times but first came work. It was always fun. It never seemed like chores. Up at the crack of dawn. Roosters crowing as I'm out to gather eggs and help(mainly watch) Grannie milk the cow. She had gotten up before anyone and had lit the fire in the wood stove. I wasn't t...