"The past is a foreign place"~ ~ and our studies of the past depends upon thousands of choices about the physical, behavioral, and cultural details of the period and place being presented. Being authentic or truthful about the past involves understanding, empathy, and environmental research.
(This quote is modified from THIS post)
~
Researching the past is nearly as much of a joy as reenacting it. As I delve into my books, searching for signs of a colonial spring, I find myself immersed in another time and place, just embracing and learning their ways - ways that may not be familiar to our modern senses.
Truer words are rarely spoken, and I do my best to make sure I get the details as correct as I can. And any such uncertainties are noted.
For this posting I am covering roughly the last half of the 18th century.
By the way, there will be a slight bit of an overlap of this posting to the Victorian spring post I wrote a number of years ago. Some things change more slowly than others...
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Asenath
Daggett awoke, startled. Had she overslept and not heeded her father's call? She jumped out of bed on to the strip of rag carpet laid on the cold floor. The sun was just rising and a cool, northwest breeze was blowing on this early spring morning. The well-sweep creaked in the breeze, and a whiff of the smoke of the kitchen fire, pouring out of the chimney, blew up the stairway. The past week of housecleaning had been a busy one, for she and her younger sister, Talitha, had cleaned the dooryard and the entry as well as the back room and the loft bedroom.
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The sun rises on the 1st morning of spring~ Tom Kemper took this photograph of the Daggett Farmhouse on the 1st morning of spring - 2023 |
Their mother, Anna, was ill and the housework was up to the two girls.
“Daughter,” called Samuel, her father, from the foot of the stairs, “the day comes on apace, and it promises a clear sky for your cleaning. Grandmother is tending your mother, and Isiah and I will need the porridge hot when we come back from foddering.”
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| The kitchen. |
In the kitchen, a glowing bed of red-hot coals burned on the hearth, streaks of sunlight glanced through the windows, bouncing off the light snow that had fallen overnight and touched the course cloth on the dinner table. Soft reflections shone from the porringers hanging on the dresser; a sunbeam flecked with bright light the brass candlesticks which were set near the hearth.
All winter the family had gathered in the kitchen and, in its warm coziness, Asenath had spun on the spinning wheel, darned mittens, and knitted stockings.
Being in the kitchen was a reminder of that cozy time.
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| The great hall |
But with an air of spring about, the great hall was opened up once again.
(Taken with slight ‘Daggett’ modification from “A Day in a Colonial Home” by Della R. Prescott)
Springtime truly is the season of rebirth, and thoughts for the majority of the populace in 18th century America was the need to accomplish a successful growing season, for in those long ago days, Spring was considered a time for preparing for the rest of the year; a time for a new beginning. A time for leaving the winter darkness and cold behind to look toward sunny warmth and renewal...rebirth. It would set the pace for the rest of the year.
In fact, as you shall see, at one time the month of March was considered the first month of the new year.
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| Morning has broken in early spring... (photo by Tom Kemper) |
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| Spring is here... |
(Taken directly from the book, "The American Farmer in the 18th Century" by Richard Bushman).
And that thought process continued well into the 20th century, and in some places even still continues as such to this day.
Though I cover the traditional spring chores in this posting for both male and female, I thought I'd begin with the women - ladies first, you know.
Though I cover the traditional spring chores in this posting for both male and female, I thought I'd begin with the women - ladies first, you know.
Now, I have searched high and low, combing the pages of my books, asking my historian friends, and searching the internet to see if the ever-popular "spring cleaning" ritual we have known so well since the early 19th century was also a tradition in the 18th century.
And do you know what?
Though it may not had been called "spring cleaning" at the time, all of my research material tends to agree there was most likely a "turning out of the winter dirt" when warmer weather finally hit after months of winter; an annual ritual as we know it to be, if only by action and not by name. The constant fires for cooking and warmth combined with long hours of candlelight deposited ashes, smoke, and soot on nearly every surface...the kitchen had been the center of activity for months, and the remnants of spinning, sewing, whittling, cooking, and other wintertime activities are in desperate need to be cleared away. The great hall, shut up during the cold weather months, was also in dire need of a cleaning as well, due to inactivity, mice droppings, and the lack of a going over before being closed up last fall. Colonial houses were inadequately swept, certainly by today's standards, for there were no brooms made of broomcorn yet.
Knowing that sweeping floors is a primary function of cleaning, we must remember it wasn't always thought of in that manner:
"American brooms were hand made prior to 1797. They were an unrefined round broom made from fibrous materials such as grass, straw or hay, fine twigs or corn husks. The broom sweep was tied onto a tree branch for a handle. Cordage used to tie the broom was retted from hemp and flax. Rougher fibers were used to make the cordage that tied a broom. The refined fibers were used for linens.
Cooking at the time was often done in a large open fireplace and dust and ashes were a factor of life. Wood was carried inside the home for heat and cooking. Dust, debri and ash were always left behind from this chore. The home made brooms swept as clean as could be the cabin and hearth and kept the home a more pleasant place to be.
The unrefined brooms were inferior and fell apart easily. Their crude nature did not allow them to sweep well. Changes started to come about in the form of a farmer from Massachusetts in 1797. Levi Dickenson used the tassels from his harvested sorghum to make a broom. His sorghum broom swept better than previous materials used, but the broom still fell apart after a time of use."
Now, to give wooden floors a deeper cleaning, the wife or servant could scour it with sand, using a brush or a cloth. This job of physical labor may have been done by the same poor women who did other people's laundry, so there is not much written about it. The only information comes from the household accounts of wealthy homes and a couple of 18th century domestic advice manuals written by housekeepers.
In 1753 Mary Johnson gave her views on best practices in cleaning. She described herself as a "Superintendent of a Lady of Quality's Family" (in York, England). Housemaids working under her may have found her high standards a little daunting. Her book, Madam Johnson's Present, says how "very industrious" they should be. She wanted them to use sand for scrubbing dirty stoneware, the outside of copper pots, pewter (using sand mixed with lye), and more, but they must never use sand on wooden dressers.
Floor cleaning is explained at length. If you were going to clean a wooden floor you must start the night before by putting ox-gall, which is still used today, on greasy spots. Next morning a "strong hot Lye, made of Wood-Ashes" went on the whole floor. After spreading clean sand over that, the maid was to get on her knees and scour the boards with a hard brush.
A second tour of the floor with a clean cloth was required before the final wipe with yet another cloth to speed up drying and keep the wood light in color. Then they were through except for oiling the skirting boards, as long as the floor wasn't dirty enough to need a longer treatment with more sand and cold water.
And do you know what?
Though it may not had been called "spring cleaning" at the time, all of my research material tends to agree there was most likely a "turning out of the winter dirt" when warmer weather finally hit after months of winter; an annual ritual as we know it to be, if only by action and not by name. The constant fires for cooking and warmth combined with long hours of candlelight deposited ashes, smoke, and soot on nearly every surface...the kitchen had been the center of activity for months, and the remnants of spinning, sewing, whittling, cooking, and other wintertime activities are in desperate need to be cleared away. The great hall, shut up during the cold weather months, was also in dire need of a cleaning as well, due to inactivity, mice droppings, and the lack of a going over before being closed up last fall. Colonial houses were inadequately swept, certainly by today's standards, for there were no brooms made of broomcorn yet.
Knowing that sweeping floors is a primary function of cleaning, we must remember it wasn't always thought of in that manner:
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Brooms of Colonial Williamsburg
Picture courtesy of LeeAnn Ewer
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Cooking at the time was often done in a large open fireplace and dust and ashes were a factor of life. Wood was carried inside the home for heat and cooking. Dust, debri and ash were always left behind from this chore. The home made brooms swept as clean as could be the cabin and hearth and kept the home a more pleasant place to be.
The unrefined brooms were inferior and fell apart easily. Their crude nature did not allow them to sweep well. Changes started to come about in the form of a farmer from Massachusetts in 1797. Levi Dickenson used the tassels from his harvested sorghum to make a broom. His sorghum broom swept better than previous materials used, but the broom still fell apart after a time of use."
Now, to give wooden floors a deeper cleaning, the wife or servant could scour it with sand, using a brush or a cloth. This job of physical labor may have been done by the same poor women who did other people's laundry, so there is not much written about it. The only information comes from the household accounts of wealthy homes and a couple of 18th century domestic advice manuals written by housekeepers.
In 1753 Mary Johnson gave her views on best practices in cleaning. She described herself as a "Superintendent of a Lady of Quality's Family" (in York, England). Housemaids working under her may have found her high standards a little daunting. Her book, Madam Johnson's Present, says how "very industrious" they should be. She wanted them to use sand for scrubbing dirty stoneware, the outside of copper pots, pewter (using sand mixed with lye), and more, but they must never use sand on wooden dressers.
Floor cleaning is explained at length. If you were going to clean a wooden floor you must start the night before by putting ox-gall, which is still used today, on greasy spots. Next morning a "strong hot Lye, made of Wood-Ashes" went on the whole floor. After spreading clean sand over that, the maid was to get on her knees and scour the boards with a hard brush.
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| This picture and the one below are actually of a scene from the John Adams mini-series showing Abigail Adams scrubbing the floor of their home. In actuality, the Adams' had a servant to do this sort of work. Note that she is putting (I believe) water on the floor, and right after (as the scene continued) she poured some liquid from the bottle - possibly ox-gall? - sitting near her over the same spot. |
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| She then began to scrub the floor with what looked like a brick. Again, I've searched for information about using a brick to scrub the floor, to no avail. Perhaps she did not have a hard brush readily available? |
"The Adams’ never had slaves, but as a genteel family they were used to having servants. There are letters John and Abigail exchanged in 1764 as they were setting up their household and hiring help. There is (also) a receipt from Rachel Marsh, who received “one pound six shillings and eight pence lawful money for a quarters wages” from Abigail in May 1765. Most modern Americans are unfamiliar, even uncomfortable, with the idea of personal servants, but that was an essential element of eighteenth-century genteel life. John Adams did work in his fields. Abigail did clean her house. But they didn’t do that work all alone."
Now, though there were housekeepers who did house cleaning, but, in general, farms were somewhat dirtier, with more bugs, and a bit smelly, too. Doors that did not shut tightly, those floors without rugs or carpets, and large open fireplaces guaranteed that dust, dirt, insects, even barnyard animals, would invade the house. Manure from the barn & stables and the mud of fall & winter covering the soles of shoes are now ground into the floors and rugs, firewood chips and slivers lie throughout, especially in corners.
This is not to say, however, that they did not clean, especially after the long cold winter.
The want to remove the dirt of winter from the rest of the house would have commenced in other areas, including the cleaning of chimneys of the soot build up, and pantries & bins to help keep it as clear of bugs and rodents as possible.
And feather beds would have been aired outside for a couple days so each side could be moistened by the dew and dried by the sun.
Beds and bedding were a bit different in the colonial period as compared to today. A prosperous American of the 18th century slept on a bed made up of several layers. At the bottom was a simple, firm “mattress” pad or cushion filled with corn husks or horsehair. Next came a big featherbed for comfort, plus feather-filled bolsters and pillows. People who lived on farms, or close to them, may have made their own from goose and duck feathers, while town- and city-folk could have bought professionally made feather mattresses from someone like Betsy Ross (yes, she made these as well).
Besides the featherbeds, blankets and linens, too, were to be washed and hung out for drying.
"Spring is particularly the time for house cleaning and bleaching linen" states a quote I found, though I do not know the year of it.
Each room of the house is emptied and scrubbed and freshened with new whitewash and the furniture rubbed and polished. Susan Leslie recalled her mother awaking before dawn to begin her housecleaning. “The two parlors, dining room, entry and staircase are all carefully and thoroughly swept before six o’clock. She then calls up her domestics, if they are not already up.”
Heavy drapery is to be taken down and be replaced with the summer curtains, fresh blinds replace the filthy ones that have taken on the winter's grime, and the windows need to be washed.
Woolen clothing worn for weeks on unwashed bodies did not smell their best. Flannel undergarments began to itch instead of providing comfort.
From 1812 (just barely into the 19th century, so I suppose we can use it), there is a letter written by Anne Kane to her mother as she described the effect of spring cleaning: "...we have been so engaged in white washing and cleaning house and such a large smoky house as ours with so much woodwork that I have been fatigued to death both in mind and body."
Meanwhile, outside the house, the banking around the foundation, put there the previous fall, would be decaying at this point, harboring mice and other vermin amid the hay, dirt, leaves, and rotted vegetable matter, and needed to be pulled away.
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| The bedchamber of the prosperous Giddings family. |
Beds and bedding were a bit different in the colonial period as compared to today. A prosperous American of the 18th century slept on a bed made up of several layers. At the bottom was a simple, firm “mattress” pad or cushion filled with corn husks or horsehair. Next came a big featherbed for comfort, plus feather-filled bolsters and pillows. People who lived on farms, or close to them, may have made their own from goose and duck feathers, while town- and city-folk could have bought professionally made feather mattresses from someone like Betsy Ross (yes, she made these as well).
Besides the featherbeds, blankets and linens, too, were to be washed and hung out for drying.
"Spring is particularly the time for house cleaning and bleaching linen" states a quote I found, though I do not know the year of it.
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| Scrubbing on the scrub board |
Heavy drapery is to be taken down and be replaced with the summer curtains, fresh blinds replace the filthy ones that have taken on the winter's grime, and the windows need to be washed.
Woolen clothing worn for weeks on unwashed bodies did not smell their best. Flannel undergarments began to itch instead of providing comfort.
From 1812 (just barely into the 19th century, so I suppose we can use it), there is a letter written by Anne Kane to her mother as she described the effect of spring cleaning: "...we have been so engaged in white washing and cleaning house and such a large smoky house as ours with so much woodwork that I have been fatigued to death both in mind and body."
Meanwhile, outside the house, the banking around the foundation, put there the previous fall, would be decaying at this point, harboring mice and other vermin amid the hay, dirt, leaves, and rotted vegetable matter, and needed to be pulled away.
However, for those who chose to farm, I note a line I found in the Benson Ford Research Center Daggett House information folder:
"While sanitation was not unknown, most (farmers) felt no urgency about cleaning up. In fact, hardworking farm families saw dirt as something positive, even healthy, as it gave life and livelihood in the form of crops."
Cleaning just was not the top priority, for, as you shall see, there was so much to be done for survival.
Despite the attention given to the great cabinet makers of Philadelphia or the shipping merchants and silversmiths of Boston, the vast bulk of the population lived on farms growing food crops. The colonial farmer of the 18th century relied on his large family for labor. He raised cotton, hemp, and flax, worked the fields in nearly all weather, cobbled his own shoes, pressed his own cider, and constructed his own furniture, while his wife spent her time doing laundry, sewing, spinning & dyeing, gardening, washing, candle making, caring for young ones, and, in the kitchen, was nothing short of a culinary genius.
There was never a shortage of work for the eighteenth century farm family, including the springtime.
Or in this case, late winter heading into spring, for sugaring time was on its way of becoming a new American tradition. It was the Native Americans who began the practice long before Europeans arrived in North America, though no one knows what tribe first discovered it.
However, by the later part of the 18th century, maple sugaring was heralding the arrival of spring for the farmer, and all hands were needed to execute this great labor. Boys joined adult males as they spent several nights in the sugar camp set up in the woods. The boys collected sap buckets and helped to process the tremendous volume of wood needed to maintain the fires under the huge sugar pots as they boiled off the water from the much-desired maple syrup. The right time is usually between late February/early March through early April when the sap is flowing properly. The nights are still cold enough to freeze sharply and the days warm enough to thaw freely. The thermometer must not rise above forty degrees by day, nor sink below 24 degrees at night. It is this magic see-sawing between winter and spring that decides the sugaring season.
To collect the sap, holes are bored in the maple tree, followed by the hammering in of a wooden tube called a spile. Under the spile a wooden bucket, made by the local cooper, is placed to catch the clear watery sap. Each day the buckets of sap are emptied into one large barrel, which is hauled back to the boiling area.
"While sanitation was not unknown, most (farmers) felt no urgency about cleaning up. In fact, hardworking farm families saw dirt as something positive, even healthy, as it gave life and livelihood in the form of crops."
Cleaning just was not the top priority, for, as you shall see, there was so much to be done for survival.
Despite the attention given to the great cabinet makers of Philadelphia or the shipping merchants and silversmiths of Boston, the vast bulk of the population lived on farms growing food crops. The colonial farmer of the 18th century relied on his large family for labor. He raised cotton, hemp, and flax, worked the fields in nearly all weather, cobbled his own shoes, pressed his own cider, and constructed his own furniture, while his wife spent her time doing laundry, sewing, spinning & dyeing, gardening, washing, candle making, caring for young ones, and, in the kitchen, was nothing short of a culinary genius.
There was never a shortage of work for the eighteenth century farm family, including the springtime.
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Painting by Eric Sloane
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However, by the later part of the 18th century, maple sugaring was heralding the arrival of spring for the farmer, and all hands were needed to execute this great labor. Boys joined adult males as they spent several nights in the sugar camp set up in the woods. The boys collected sap buckets and helped to process the tremendous volume of wood needed to maintain the fires under the huge sugar pots as they boiled off the water from the much-desired maple syrup. The right time is usually between late February/early March through early April when the sap is flowing properly. The nights are still cold enough to freeze sharply and the days warm enough to thaw freely. The thermometer must not rise above forty degrees by day, nor sink below 24 degrees at night. It is this magic see-sawing between winter and spring that decides the sugaring season.
To collect the sap, holes are bored in the maple tree, followed by the hammering in of a wooden tube called a spile. Under the spile a wooden bucket, made by the local cooper, is placed to catch the clear watery sap. Each day the buckets of sap are emptied into one large barrel, which is hauled back to the boiling area.
"The Sugar-Tree yields a kind of Sap or Juice which by boiling is made into Sugar. This Juice is drawn out, by wounding the Trunk of the Tree, and placing a Receiver under the Wound. It is said that the Indians make one Pound of Sugar out of eight Pounds of the Liquor. It is bright and moist with a full large Grain, the Sweetness of it being like that of good Muscovada."
Governor Berkeley of Virginia, 1706
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| Maple sugaring at the 1789 Navarre-Anderson Trading Post (the white building in the background) in Monroe, Michigan. Here we see maple trees being tapped. |
Three or four iron kettles made by the local blacksmith would hang over fires. In the first kettle, the watery tasteless sap is vigorously boiled over a roaring fire. The water will gradually evaporate, leaving behind a thicker, sweeter liquid. This is then ladled into the second kettle where it is gently boiled to thicken more. Constant stirring keeps it from burning.
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| Keeping the heat on beneath the four iron pots ... |
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| Boiling the liquid in the iron kettles. |
Over the course of the various kettles, the water will gradually evaporate, leaving behind a thicker, sweeter dark syrup they called molasses, which was used as a cane sugar. When makers wanted a granulated product, the molasses was boiled until the sugar crystalized, and at that point it was turned out of the kettle into a larger wooden trough for clashing, being pounded with a wooden beater to break up the clumps of crystals.
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| Not quite yet ready... Maple sugaring is something I hope I am invited to take part in one day. |
This thick, sweet syrup can then be poured into crocks to be used on porridge or cakes. Or, it can be ladled into the third kettle. If this is done, the liquid will then, over a smaller fire, be carefully stirred until it turns into sugar. The sugar will be packed into wooden boxes and tubs to be used in the coming year.
Though sugaring was laborious, they would try to make it such a cheerful season, for the whole family looked forward to this chore, making it more play than work.
And, of course, one of the best parts of producing maple syrup was testing the outcome!
"Large countries within our Union are covered with Sugar maple as heavily as can be conceived, and that this tree yeilds a sugar equal to the best from the cane, yeilds it in great quantity, with no other labor than what the women and girls can bestow . . . What a blessing to substitute a sugar which requires only the labor of children..."
--future President of the United States, Thomas Jefferson 1791--
(Ah, Mr. Jefferson. More than children and women were needed...)
Benjamin Rush, physician and close friend of Thomas Jefferson, in an attempt to convince the future president that maple sugar was not only equal to cane in quality, but indeed that for the moral and economic good of the new nation, felt it was imperative that Americans promote its manufacture to supplant the West India sugar trade. In a remarkably short period of time, maple sugar was transformed in the minds of the many American opinion leaders from a minor local crop produced mainly by subsistence farmers into a highly fashionable--perhaps deliciously profitable—new national industry. During the early 1790s this phenomenon, sometimes labeled “the maple sugar bubble,” inflamed the minds and hearts of such influential figures as Henry Drinker, a well regarded Quaker merchant; William Cooper, founder of Cooperstown; and of course, Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Rush. The writings of these men, reflected and informed by articles written by supporters of the trade across New England, all made the same point: maple sugar could and should become a permanent replacement for cane sugar in America.
Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to step on a soap box for a moment here:
I have in front of me a bottle of Log Cabin Original Syrup. Here are the ingredients:
corn syrup, liquid sugar (natural sugar, water), salt, natural and artificial flavors (lactic acid), cellulose gum, preservatives (sorbic acid, sodium benzoate), sodium hexametaphosphate, caramel color, phosphoric acid.
Now here is what's in the bottle of Spring Tree Maple Syrup that is also in front of me:
100% pure maple syrup.
That's it.
Now, what would you rather put into your body?
Methinks that the Log Cabin syrup is somehow not quite as original as they say...
Okay, I'm off my soap box now.
For the colonial farmers, the new year began in March:
'twas on March 25, 1620 that a diary entry noted, "The new year beginneth."
You see, March, before 1752, was the first month of the year, but due to the Julian leap year formula overcompensating for the actual length of a solar year, having added an extra day every 128 years, seasonal equinoxes were falling 10 days "too early," and some church holidays, such as Easter, did not always fall in the proper seasons.
It wasn't until 1750 that an act of Parliament in England changed calendars dates to align with the Gregorian Calendar (after Pope Gregory XIII) rather than remain with the Julian calendar. The beginning of the legal new year was then moved from March 25 to January 1.
Henceforth, New Year's celebrations would take place on the evening of December 31st and last into the following day.
(Read more about this HERE)
For farmers, however, February's last days remained as they had always kept it, and accounts and diaries were closed and inventories were made. There was talk of spring and the new farm year. All farm calendars and diaries, almanacs and agricultural manuals continued to appropriately (for them) begin with March. "The new year is at our door," says a diary entry of the period, "spring is with us in March when we are yet sitting by the fireside..."
The American farmer, who drank cider daily at his table instead of water or milk, was more or less a sober man. But mead and 'hardened cider brandy' were always in order during the March preparations for the coming seasons of labor, no matter the after effects.
There is always talk, in our modern time, of the differences between the youth of today and their counterparts of the past. Boys in the 18th century who were still under the age of ten not only knew how to expertly use firearms, but also learned how to handle an ax and keep it ready for use. The ax, aside from his rifle, was perhaps the most important tool that a man could have had. And just as girls helped their mothers with the housework, boys worked next to their fathers in the fields.
For the sustainability of a farm, fences were, and are, considered a prime necessity. Almanac after almanac began the month of March with "Look to your fences." March was the ideal season for storing up firewood and splitting fence-rails. March winds dry out the winter-cut logs in the woods, making them easier to haul in.
Written in the diary of Noah Blake (from 1805)):
"March 26, 1805
A light snow fell which father believes will be the last of the winter. We fell'd a fine oak and rolled it upon rails for Spring seasoning. Mother is joyous at the thought of a good wood floor.
March 27, 1805
...it snowed again today. We kept within the house, sharpening and making ready tools for the year's farming."
Although March was the month for hauling in and cutting up wood, the actual felling of trees for fence material was often done during the second running of sap, in August. By way of a wooden mallet, rails were always split by hammering on them with wedges, never by striking them with an ax. The use of wooden hammers is now almost a lost art, but the workshop of days long past had a great variety of them.
This chore of laying up new fuel wood also heralded the end of winter, the season of the hearth. Besides heating and cooking equipment, there were always a few pieces of wood present, being seasoned by the winter fire. Special wood for ax handles and other farm tools was laboriously dried at the fireplace, and even lightly charred for strength. Special pieces were often left near the fireplace for as long as a year, to render them properly seasoned.
From tapping the trees for syrup to mending fences & tools, the next big job a farmer had was hauling manure from the manure pile in the barnyard to the field where he would later plow and plant. The gutters behind the cows were cleaned daily and the mixture of straw and manure became an ever-growing pile in the barnyard. Mucking the stall and removing the dung was generally done by the males in the household. Then would come the duty of spreading the manure...I would venture to guess this was probably the worst job in a farmer's year.
It was in April where in a diary was written: "The three horses carting manure from the yard to Field Number 2 and covering it with the drill plough, Seven workers, including one woman, were spreading the manure..."
No matter how much one may love cows and horses, I can almost guarantee they will simply despise having to shovel manure onto a wheelbarrow or cart and then haul it out to the manure pile.
But it had to be done. From November through the end of March, while the animals spent their nights in the barn, it had to be done.
And then, once spring planting preparations began, the farmer again would have to haul the pile, load after cart load, out to the planting field. This was an arduous ordeal, for hauling a heavy load of manure through the crevice-filled field was no easy task.
Then came the duty of spreading...I would venture to guess this was probably the worst job in a farmer's year. Shovels-full of manure thrown onto the land to be spread, whether by rake, plow, or harrow was truly back-breaking, and took days to weeks to complete.
Next it was time for plowing. A plow is one of the oldest of farming tools and was another challenging tilling necessity. The process of plowing is an unbroken link to the past, one of which is carried on today, though with much greater ease than in days of old. The plow, of course, breaks up and turns over the soil, bringing fresh nutrients to the surface, while burying weeds, crop remains, and the manure to decay. The plow creates the trenches known as furrows to make it smoother for planting. Farming would be near impossible without this tool.
Back and forth, walking literally mile after mile. Arms, as use to gripping the wood handles as they were, ached nightly, and they ached even worse come the next morning when the farmer, once again, would find himself behind the one, maybe two, plow horses in the cool of the morning, digging the wooden mould-board tool into the ground to turn up the soil that had laid dormant and frozen all the long winter.
~By the way, in 2014 I was very lucky to have had the opportunity to plow behind a team of horses, something I've never done before but had wanted to experience for years. Since this ancient chore was new to me, I wasn't quite sure what to expect, and what I found was that it is much tougher of a chore than I imagined; my legs felt as if I had run through wet sand with 15 lb weights on each ankle. However, my arms and upper torso felt great. I did a couple of furrows, which was all my legs could handle (this modern city boy is not in the same physical shape as an 18th or 19th century farmer, that's for sure!), but, thanks to the good folk at Firestone Farm inside Greenfield Village, I now can say I plowed behind horses.
The best part?
I didn't make a fool of myself (seriously - I was pretty nervous about that!). In fact, I was told that I did very well and kept my furrows pretty straight. Well, that certainly meant a lot to me.
This experience was, in all honesty, the highlight of not only my historical year, but in my living history hobby as a whole.~
It was after plowing that the farmer would use the harrow to further spread and even out the dirt for planting. The purpose of a harrow is to break up the clumps of soil and to provide a smoother finish to the land, making for better planting and growth. Back across the field mister farmer would go, and when he finished in one direction, he would harrow (or drag) the field crosswise to smooth it even further.
Henry Ford once commented that children knew more about wars than about harrows, even though harrows did more to build this country than wars. Hence, this was part of his reasoning in creating the Greenfield Village open-air museum; to show the importance of everyday life of the past. Ford is also known for his oft-repeated (usually out of context) history is bunk! statement: "History, as it is taught in the schools, deals largely with...wars, major political controversies, territorial extensions and the like. When I went to our American history books to learn how our forefathers harrowed the land, I discovered that the historians knew nothing about harrows. Yet our country depended more on harrows than on guns or great speeches. I thought a history which excluded harrows and all the rest of daily life is bunk, and I think so yet."
It was in May when the patch of land for growing flax would be harrowed and sowed. Flax was important in a number of ways, including the spinning into linen after preparation, as well as for making candle wicking. And to help with a mental scene, from the book A Day In a Colonial Home by Della R. Prescott: “Daughter, take this flagon (a container for holding liquids) of buttermilk up to the flax patch. We saved this much in the churn. ‘Tis ten o’clock and father and John must be hungry. This drink will help them through the next hour.”
It is unfortunate that there may, at times, be a varmint, perhaps a woodchuck (for they have been known to eat flax plants), who made a home where the patch would be, so the flint-lock would be used to take care of the situation. There was no calling animal control.
"When the oak leaves are the size of a field mouse's ear, then it's time to plant the corn," was a popular old-time saying.
Another said that the whippoorwill offered a reminder for corn planting, calling soon after sunset when the days began to warm (usually in May).
Planting the crop was a critical step with no room for error. Missing a section of a field could cause a huge problem: no seed in the ground, no crop.
For centuries, farmers sowed grain by hand; shouldering a bag of seed, the farmer walked up and down the tilled field, fingering the seeds from side to side. As noted in an ancient diary: "On spring-plowed fields it was heavy traveling for the man who carried grain and sowed by hand. Of course, it was heavy work, even traveling over fall-plowed ground, with the grain hung over the shoulders, and the steady swing of the right arm throwing the grain as the right foot advanced, and dipping the hand into the bag for another cast of grain as the left foot advanced."
But the sowing process and outcome was frustrating at best. There is an old proverb that I recall hearing in my own youth from my own farming grandfather that had carried over from times past which best describes the planting of seeds:
One for the mouse,
one for the crow,
one to rot,
and one to grow.
Did you know that our first President, George Washington, was a fan of Jethro Tull?
It's true!
Though it wasn't until the late 18th century and into the 19th century that it's popularity grew, it was Jethro Tull, an English agriculturalist, who is credited with inventing the first practical seed drill back in 1701, allowing farmers to plant their crop much easier and more uniform. George Washington owned a book called "Horse-Hoeing Husbandry" written by Tull, and he became a practitioner of his ideas.
I think it would be kind of funny for me, as one from the 21st century, to see and hear George Washington having a conversation about Jethro Tull.
(To jump into the future a moment, it was in Wisconsin in 1860 that brothers George and Daniel Van Brunt patented a design for a combination drill and cultivator that was pulled by a team of horses. This was an immediate success and gained in popularity throughout the early 1860's. By the end of the Civil War the Van Brunt Company was producing 1300 grain drills a year)~
For the farmer's wife, spring was her time to plan and prepare for the all-important kitchen garden. The kitchen garden was where plants for use in the kitchen and homelife were planted and cultivated. Though there would be vegetables, herb seeds were among the first things to go into the ground. Some herbs were even used for pesticides to deter flies, fleas, and moths. And dill, fennel, rosemary, tansey, thyme, sorrel, and basil were considered to be essential to any colonial garden.
Alongside the herbs, this is what many colonials planted in their kitchen gardens in April or May in the northern colonies, as well as in the upper middle colonies, and even in the settlements on the frontier Great Lakes region: onions, potatoes, peas, skirret, lettuce, leeks, cabbage, and asparagus.
Parsley, skirret, and sorrel were planted for use in salads ("sallets") as well as seasonings for meats that had been heavily salted for preservation.
What was available for a family to eat in winter and spring depended on a wife's careful preservation of their excess produce.
Though sugaring was laborious, they would try to make it such a cheerful season, for the whole family looked forward to this chore, making it more play than work.
And, of course, one of the best parts of producing maple syrup was testing the outcome!
 |
| Just in case you are interested in maple sugaring |
--future President of the United States, Thomas Jefferson 1791--
(Ah, Mr. Jefferson. More than children and women were needed...)
Benjamin Rush, physician and close friend of Thomas Jefferson, in an attempt to convince the future president that maple sugar was not only equal to cane in quality, but indeed that for the moral and economic good of the new nation, felt it was imperative that Americans promote its manufacture to supplant the West India sugar trade. In a remarkably short period of time, maple sugar was transformed in the minds of the many American opinion leaders from a minor local crop produced mainly by subsistence farmers into a highly fashionable--perhaps deliciously profitable—new national industry. During the early 1790s this phenomenon, sometimes labeled “the maple sugar bubble,” inflamed the minds and hearts of such influential figures as Henry Drinker, a well regarded Quaker merchant; William Cooper, founder of Cooperstown; and of course, Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Rush. The writings of these men, reflected and informed by articles written by supporters of the trade across New England, all made the same point: maple sugar could and should become a permanent replacement for cane sugar in America.
Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to step on a soap box for a moment here:
I have in front of me a bottle of Log Cabin Original Syrup. Here are the ingredients:
corn syrup, liquid sugar (natural sugar, water), salt, natural and artificial flavors (lactic acid), cellulose gum, preservatives (sorbic acid, sodium benzoate), sodium hexametaphosphate, caramel color, phosphoric acid.
Now here is what's in the bottle of Spring Tree Maple Syrup that is also in front of me:
100% pure maple syrup.
That's it.
Now, what would you rather put into your body?
Methinks that the Log Cabin syrup is somehow not quite as original as they say...
Okay, I'm off my soap box now.
 |
The floors are scrubbed and the wool
has been spun and dyed. I pray that God sees it right to bless us with a fine growing season this new year. |
'twas on March 25, 1620 that a diary entry noted, "The new year beginneth."
You see, March, before 1752, was the first month of the year, but due to the Julian leap year formula overcompensating for the actual length of a solar year, having added an extra day every 128 years, seasonal equinoxes were falling 10 days "too early," and some church holidays, such as Easter, did not always fall in the proper seasons.
It wasn't until 1750 that an act of Parliament in England changed calendars dates to align with the Gregorian Calendar (after Pope Gregory XIII) rather than remain with the Julian calendar. The beginning of the legal new year was then moved from March 25 to January 1.
Henceforth, New Year's celebrations would take place on the evening of December 31st and last into the following day.
(Read more about this HERE)
For farmers, however, February's last days remained as they had always kept it, and accounts and diaries were closed and inventories were made. There was talk of spring and the new farm year. All farm calendars and diaries, almanacs and agricultural manuals continued to appropriately (for them) begin with March. "The new year is at our door," says a diary entry of the period, "spring is with us in March when we are yet sitting by the fireside..."
The American farmer, who drank cider daily at his table instead of water or milk, was more or less a sober man. But mead and 'hardened cider brandy' were always in order during the March preparations for the coming seasons of labor, no matter the after effects.
There is always talk, in our modern time, of the differences between the youth of today and their counterparts of the past. Boys in the 18th century who were still under the age of ten not only knew how to expertly use firearms, but also learned how to handle an ax and keep it ready for use. The ax, aside from his rifle, was perhaps the most important tool that a man could have had. And just as girls helped their mothers with the housework, boys worked next to their fathers in the fields.
For the sustainability of a farm, fences were, and are, considered a prime necessity. Almanac after almanac began the month of March with "Look to your fences." March was the ideal season for storing up firewood and splitting fence-rails. March winds dry out the winter-cut logs in the woods, making them easier to haul in.
 | ||
Chopping...
...and gathering in the 18th century
|
"March 26, 1805
A light snow fell which father believes will be the last of the winter. We fell'd a fine oak and rolled it upon rails for Spring seasoning. Mother is joyous at the thought of a good wood floor.
March 27, 1805
...it snowed again today. We kept within the house, sharpening and making ready tools for the year's farming."
Although March was the month for hauling in and cutting up wood, the actual felling of trees for fence material was often done during the second running of sap, in August. By way of a wooden mallet, rails were always split by hammering on them with wedges, never by striking them with an ax. The use of wooden hammers is now almost a lost art, but the workshop of days long past had a great variety of them.
This chore of laying up new fuel wood also heralded the end of winter, the season of the hearth. Besides heating and cooking equipment, there were always a few pieces of wood present, being seasoned by the winter fire. Special wood for ax handles and other farm tools was laboriously dried at the fireplace, and even lightly charred for strength. Special pieces were often left near the fireplace for as long as a year, to render them properly seasoned.
From tapping the trees for syrup to mending fences & tools, the next big job a farmer had was hauling manure from the manure pile in the barnyard to the field where he would later plow and plant. The gutters behind the cows were cleaned daily and the mixture of straw and manure became an ever-growing pile in the barnyard. Mucking the stall and removing the dung was generally done by the males in the household. Then would come the duty of spreading the manure...I would venture to guess this was probably the worst job in a farmer's year.
It was in April where in a diary was written: "The three horses carting manure from the yard to Field Number 2 and covering it with the drill plough, Seven workers, including one woman, were spreading the manure..."
No matter how much one may love cows and horses, I can almost guarantee they will simply despise having to shovel manure onto a wheelbarrow or cart and then haul it out to the manure pile.
But it had to be done. From November through the end of March, while the animals spent their nights in the barn, it had to be done.
And then, once spring planting preparations began, the farmer again would have to haul the pile, load after cart load, out to the planting field. This was an arduous ordeal, for hauling a heavy load of manure through the crevice-filled field was no easy task.
Then came the duty of spreading...I would venture to guess this was probably the worst job in a farmer's year. Shovels-full of manure thrown onto the land to be spread, whether by rake, plow, or harrow was truly back-breaking, and took days to weeks to complete.
Next it was time for plowing. A plow is one of the oldest of farming tools and was another challenging tilling necessity. The process of plowing is an unbroken link to the past, one of which is carried on today, though with much greater ease than in days of old. The plow, of course, breaks up and turns over the soil, bringing fresh nutrients to the surface, while burying weeds, crop remains, and the manure to decay. The plow creates the trenches known as furrows to make it smoother for planting. Farming would be near impossible without this tool.
 |
| Plowing...1770 |
 |
| The plow pictured here is from 1775 and is made of wood. |
 |
Yep, that's 1860s Ken holding the
plow. I was bound and determined to do it right! And with Steve at my side, how could I not? |
The best part?
I didn't make a fool of myself (seriously - I was pretty nervous about that!). In fact, I was told that I did very well and kept my furrows pretty straight. Well, that certainly meant a lot to me.
This experience was, in all honesty, the highlight of not only my historical year, but in my living history hobby as a whole.~
It was after plowing that the farmer would use the harrow to further spread and even out the dirt for planting. The purpose of a harrow is to break up the clumps of soil and to provide a smoother finish to the land, making for better planting and growth. Back across the field mister farmer would go, and when he finished in one direction, he would harrow (or drag) the field crosswise to smooth it even further.
 |
| Harrowing the land. Photo courtesy of the Smithsonian |
It was in May when the patch of land for growing flax would be harrowed and sowed. Flax was important in a number of ways, including the spinning into linen after preparation, as well as for making candle wicking. And to help with a mental scene, from the book A Day In a Colonial Home by Della R. Prescott: “Daughter, take this flagon (a container for holding liquids) of buttermilk up to the flax patch. We saved this much in the churn. ‘Tis ten o’clock and father and John must be hungry. This drink will help them through the next hour.”
It is unfortunate that there may, at times, be a varmint, perhaps a woodchuck (for they have been known to eat flax plants), who made a home where the patch would be, so the flint-lock would be used to take care of the situation. There was no calling animal control.
"When the oak leaves are the size of a field mouse's ear, then it's time to plant the corn," was a popular old-time saying.
Another said that the whippoorwill offered a reminder for corn planting, calling soon after sunset when the days began to warm (usually in May).
Planting the crop was a critical step with no room for error. Missing a section of a field could cause a huge problem: no seed in the ground, no crop.
 |
Aye, my early spring plants are beginning to
sprout. Mayhaps my asparagus, parsnips,
and pea greens will be ready shortly.
|
But the sowing process and outcome was frustrating at best. There is an old proverb that I recall hearing in my own youth from my own farming grandfather that had carried over from times past which best describes the planting of seeds:
One for the mouse,
one for the crow,
one to rot,
and one to grow.
 |
Ian Anderson, founding member of the
group Jethro Tull, performs at the grave
of the original Jethro Tull.
|
It's true!
Though it wasn't until the late 18th century and into the 19th century that it's popularity grew, it was Jethro Tull, an English agriculturalist, who is credited with inventing the first practical seed drill back in 1701, allowing farmers to plant their crop much easier and more uniform. George Washington owned a book called "Horse-Hoeing Husbandry" written by Tull, and he became a practitioner of his ideas.
I think it would be kind of funny for me, as one from the 21st century, to see and hear George Washington having a conversation about Jethro Tull.
(To jump into the future a moment, it was in Wisconsin in 1860 that brothers George and Daniel Van Brunt patented a design for a combination drill and cultivator that was pulled by a team of horses. This was an immediate success and gained in popularity throughout the early 1860's. By the end of the Civil War the Van Brunt Company was producing 1300 grain drills a year)~
For the farmer's wife, spring was her time to plan and prepare for the all-important kitchen garden. The kitchen garden was where plants for use in the kitchen and homelife were planted and cultivated. Though there would be vegetables, herb seeds were among the first things to go into the ground. Some herbs were even used for pesticides to deter flies, fleas, and moths. And dill, fennel, rosemary, tansey, thyme, sorrel, and basil were considered to be essential to any colonial garden.
Alongside the herbs, this is what many colonials planted in their kitchen gardens in April or May in the northern colonies, as well as in the upper middle colonies, and even in the settlements on the frontier Great Lakes region: onions, potatoes, peas, skirret, lettuce, leeks, cabbage, and asparagus.
Parsley, skirret, and sorrel were planted for use in salads ("sallets") as well as seasonings for meats that had been heavily salted for preservation.
 |
Planning the kitchen garden at 1760s Daggett farm.
Many times the garden would be supplemented
with a greenhouse, a strawberry patch, and fruit trees. |
 |
| It's May! Finally, some fresh asparagus! |
For many families, particularly those in the north, a woman's expertise in this area made the difference between comfort and starvation, not only through the winter but well into the spring. The family that did not have time to plant a garden, especially those out on the frontier, faced a winter of intense hardship. John Reynolds and his family survived on very little while on the Pennsylvania frontier: "Our bread was flour and water without salt or leaven, baked in the ashes in thin cakes. Bacon was our standing dish of meat. Chocolate with sassafras or winter-green tea was our drink at meals. Vegetables we had none."
The importance of the kitchen garden cannot be overstated.
May is also the month when tomatoes and peppers and beans and corn and squash and pumpkin and melon and cucumbers and whatever else feasible could be planted. Sarah Bryant often noted in her diary when the hens began to lay, and wrote the dates of the first blossoming of plums, peaches, apples, and cherries in her orchard. Her diary also records the first sowing of grains and garden vegetables, including when she saw the first peas and cucumbers peaking through. In fact, it would be the month of May when radishes, lettuce, asparagus, and even new peas could start popping up.
And, as so many of her time (and even in our modern times), she often worried over the threat of the damage a late frost could do during blooming season.
Part of the kitchen garden included plants used for medicinal purposes, for the wife was also the family doctor. Included in this section would be wormwood, which was a purgative for stomach issues or worms, tansy was used to stop bleeding and bruising, St. John's Wort, used to help with wounds, skin irritations, and consumption, and chamomile, which was used, same as it is today, to make a calming tea.
It is to be expected that kitchen garden produce would have been thought of and planned out from the onset, for these were the necessities of life. But the "ornamental" flowering plants, most, of which were brought over from Europe in years past, were not forgotten, and before long they, too, were growing side by side in the colonial garden. Such varieties as love-lies-bleeding, coreopsis, hyacinth, foxglove, tawny daylily, and hollyhock could be seen in many colonial gardens. Many of the more decorative plants could also be used beyond their beauty, for instance, in dyeing wool the brilliant colors seen on clothing as well as medicinal.
The husband also used a portion of the kitchen garden:
'Twas not only farmers who had kitchen gardens; the yards of city and townsfolk would also care for their own patch of land to grown the necessities they would need as well.
And, then there's the flax patch needed so linen can be made over the next winter.
Sheep shearing time was another chore that took place in later spring, after the assurance of no more snow arriving. Written in 1765: "The proper time to shear your sheep is in the increase of the moon, in May; and, if you have the conveniency, make a pen near some water course or pond, and wash your sheep before you shear them: As soon as they are washed turn them into a small enclosure that has plenty of grass, and let them run on it two or three days, or until you see the fatty or oily substance shedding amongst the wool. Then is the proper time to shear them, for that is a great preservation to the wool."
Shearing sheep is usually done only once a year so that the sheep are free of their heavy wool coats for the hot summer months. You would not want to shear the animals too early in the spring, however, for fear of not-so-fair weather for the animals. Going from a full thick winter wool coat to almost no coat can be a bit stressful for the animal, and more so if the weather is cold. Since lambing occurs in the late spring or early summer, shearing often takes place in April or early May. A sheep without her fleece is pretty naked looking! This annual ritual also has the benefit of producing salable wool or, if you're like my wife, spinning it into yarn yourself.
Most farmers prefer to have their sheep sheared before lambing commences, usually about a month before, for the ewes are still a few weeks away from full pregnancy so the process is little easier on them.
Shearing before lambing also helps to keep the animals cleaner during birthing as they won't have a full fleece for blood and afterbirth to collect in. Some farmers also believe the lambs have an easier time finding the udder on a shorn ewe.
With March, April, and May signaling the end of the winter season, the family would most likely be using up things in the root cellar; by the time springtime arrived, people were nearing the end of their winter storage of the food from last fall's harvest and were looking forward to the season of growing.
However, some of the winter vegetables may have begun to rot, and the apples, in many cases, could be getting soft. Mushy potatoes would be made into starch, and the winter's accumulation of fat would be made into soap before it turned rancid.
Then there were the winter squash, carrots, onions, and dried beans, though it would not be long before fresh asparagus could sprout (in May). There might also soon be fresh lettuce available, especially if one had cold frames or hot frames to grow them in.
Pickled items of all sorts would be on the pantry shelves, cucumber pickles, watermelon rind pickles, sauerkraut, pickled peppers, pickled onions, etc…
For fruit there probably would have been jellies, jams, and the last of those softened cellar apples mentioned earlier.
In the meat category, ham was popular since it was getting warmer, and whatever was left in the smokehouse wasn't likely to keep much longer. The sow has farrowed and now piglets were to be raised. There could be lamb and veal, meaning if one didn't make it, guess what? There could be a suckling pig or lamb to eat for Sunday dinner (newborn animals that didn't make it were not wasted). There could still be fresh beef maybe, but most probable there wouldn't be any left. Salted beef would be much more likely.
Into May we have another diary entry from a holiday no longer celebrated:
"Rog. Sunday. After meeting, we all walked our boundaries," wrote Noah Blake in his diary on May 19, 1805.
Now here is something I was not familiar with until recently. "Rog. Sunday," as Noah wrote, is actually Rogation Sunday, which was the day when farmers looked to their land and crops and prayed for a bountiful harvest. It was the Sixth Sunday of Easter (the fifth Sunday after Easter Sunday) and is part of the Church of England's calendar of festivals. The word rogation comes from the Latin verb rogare, meaning "to ask", which reflects the beseeching of God for protection from calamities. As the Book of Common Prayer puts it: “Rogation Days are the three days preceding Ascension Day, especially devoted to asking for God's blessing on agriculture and industry.”
The importance of the kitchen garden cannot be overstated.
May is also the month when tomatoes and peppers and beans and corn and squash and pumpkin and melon and cucumbers and whatever else feasible could be planted. Sarah Bryant often noted in her diary when the hens began to lay, and wrote the dates of the first blossoming of plums, peaches, apples, and cherries in her orchard. Her diary also records the first sowing of grains and garden vegetables, including when she saw the first peas and cucumbers peaking through. In fact, it would be the month of May when radishes, lettuce, asparagus, and even new peas could start popping up.
And, as so many of her time (and even in our modern times), she often worried over the threat of the damage a late frost could do during blooming season.
 |
| Preparing the kitchen garden... |
 |
| Starting from seed... |
The husband also used a portion of the kitchen garden:
 | ||
Growing hops to be ready for fall beer brewing time.
|
And, then there's the flax patch needed so linen can be made over the next winter.
 |
| A little photo-trickery here: We actually were planting flax here, though I added the Daggett House in the background. |
Sheep shearing time was another chore that took place in later spring, after the assurance of no more snow arriving. Written in 1765: "The proper time to shear your sheep is in the increase of the moon, in May; and, if you have the conveniency, make a pen near some water course or pond, and wash your sheep before you shear them: As soon as they are washed turn them into a small enclosure that has plenty of grass, and let them run on it two or three days, or until you see the fatty or oily substance shedding amongst the wool. Then is the proper time to shear them, for that is a great preservation to the wool."
Shearing sheep is usually done only once a year so that the sheep are free of their heavy wool coats for the hot summer months. You would not want to shear the animals too early in the spring, however, for fear of not-so-fair weather for the animals. Going from a full thick winter wool coat to almost no coat can be a bit stressful for the animal, and more so if the weather is cold. Since lambing occurs in the late spring or early summer, shearing often takes place in April or early May. A sheep without her fleece is pretty naked looking! This annual ritual also has the benefit of producing salable wool or, if you're like my wife, spinning it into yarn yourself.
 |
| Sheep Shearing at Colonial Williamsburg (found on the internet - no name listed) |
Shearing before lambing also helps to keep the animals cleaner during birthing as they won't have a full fleece for blood and afterbirth to collect in. Some farmers also believe the lambs have an easier time finding the udder on a shorn ewe.
 |
Not much left in the root cellar
(photo courtesy of Hobby Farms)
|
However, some of the winter vegetables may have begun to rot, and the apples, in many cases, could be getting soft. Mushy potatoes would be made into starch, and the winter's accumulation of fat would be made into soap before it turned rancid.
Then there were the winter squash, carrots, onions, and dried beans, though it would not be long before fresh asparagus could sprout (in May). There might also soon be fresh lettuce available, especially if one had cold frames or hot frames to grow them in.
Pickled items of all sorts would be on the pantry shelves, cucumber pickles, watermelon rind pickles, sauerkraut, pickled peppers, pickled onions, etc…
For fruit there probably would have been jellies, jams, and the last of those softened cellar apples mentioned earlier.
 |
| Smoked and salted meat |
In the meat category, ham was popular since it was getting warmer, and whatever was left in the smokehouse wasn't likely to keep much longer. The sow has farrowed and now piglets were to be raised. There could be lamb and veal, meaning if one didn't make it, guess what? There could be a suckling pig or lamb to eat for Sunday dinner (newborn animals that didn't make it were not wasted). There could still be fresh beef maybe, but most probable there wouldn't be any left. Salted beef would be much more likely.
"Rog. Sunday. After meeting, we all walked our boundaries," wrote Noah Blake in his diary on May 19, 1805.
Now here is something I was not familiar with until recently. "Rog. Sunday," as Noah wrote, is actually Rogation Sunday, which was the day when farmers looked to their land and crops and prayed for a bountiful harvest. It was the Sixth Sunday of Easter (the fifth Sunday after Easter Sunday) and is part of the Church of England's calendar of festivals. The word rogation comes from the Latin verb rogare, meaning "to ask", which reflects the beseeching of God for protection from calamities. As the Book of Common Prayer puts it: “Rogation Days are the three days preceding Ascension Day, especially devoted to asking for God's blessing on agriculture and industry.”
So it was on this day when the clergy and his flock walked through the village and out into the fields to bless the planted ground. In the evening of Rogation Sunday, farmers and their families walked the boundaries of their own property; it was both inventory and a time for giving thanks for their land.
We actually celebrated this ancient holiday during a living history event.
 |
| Blessing our just-planted crops on Rogation Sunday. |
. . .
Though I cannot find those words, "spring cleaning" listed anywhere in any of my 18th century primary source research material, one can easily see that there were annual springtime rituals that took place once the winter weather began to subside and not be as bitter. And in today's post I did center on farm life during these spring months more than urban life, for not only did the greater majority of the populace live on farms during the 18th century, but that was where a clear definitive showing of spring seemed to take place. Farm life offered the complete satisfaction of knowing that each day's work had been truly productive, a joy scarce in present times. In the old days, whether one was a blacksmith, a butcher, a carpenter, a politician, or a banker, they were also a farmer. Even the earliest silk-hatted and powdered-wigged American had gnarled hands that knew the plow. George Washington and every member of his first Congress farmed with their own hands. Before setting out for the day, there were chores to be done that often took as much time as a complete day's work for the average man of today.
It was their survival.
 |
| A restful moment after a good day's work. |
Happy spring!
Surviving wintertime past, click HERE
Living in the winter during colonial times, click HERESummertime in the 18th century, click HERE
Autumn in the colonies, click HERE
And another Autumn celebration in the colonies, click HERE
Spend a year on a colonial farm:, click HERE
So many thanks must go to the various presenters at the Daggett House in Greenfield Village, for they have helped to immerse me with knowledge and action.
Information on maple sugaring came from THIS thesis written by Eleni Angelos Healey.
Other sources used:
"The Seasons of America Past" by Eric Sloane
"A Pioneer Sampler - The Daily Life of a Pioneer family in 1840" by Barbara Greenwood
"Our Own Snug Fireside" by Jane C. Nylander
"Expansion of Every Day Life" by Daniel E. Sutherland
"Horse Drawn Days" by Jerry Apps
"Everyday Life in Colonial America" by Dale Taylor
"Expansion of Every Day Life" by Daniel E. Sutherland
"Horse Drawn Days" by Jerry Apps
"Everyday Life in Colonial America" by Dale Taylor
"Our Vanishing Landscape" by Eric Sloane
"Barnyard in your Backyard" by Gail Damerow
"Daily Life in Colonial New England" by Claudia Durst Johnson
and a small bit from
"Family Life in 17th and 18th Century America" by James M. Volo & Dorothy Denneen Volo
"Plants of Colonial Days" by Raymond L. Taylor
"The American Farmer in the 18th Century" by Richard Bushman (read the reviews before purchasing)
The history of brooms was found HERE
Cleaning floors information partly came from HERE"Barnyard in your Backyard" by Gail Damerow
"Daily Life in Colonial New England" by Claudia Durst Johnson
and a small bit from
"Family Life in 17th and 18th Century America" by James M. Volo & Dorothy Denneen Volo
"Plants of Colonial Days" by Raymond L. Taylor
"The American Farmer in the 18th Century" by Richard Bushman (read the reviews before purchasing)
The history of brooms was found HERE
Information about John and Abigail Adams comes from THIS site
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5 comments:
Hi Ken! Love your blog! Under the photo of the woman scrubbing a floor with a "brick" you said you haven't found any information about using such a method. Well, in naval history there's quite a bit about sailors scrubbing/sanding the decks of wooden ships with what were called "holy stones," So named because the naval version of these stones were fairly large rectangles about the size of an old fashioned pulpit Bible. The decks were sprinkled with water and the decks were scoured with these stones to keep them smooth and prevent the surface from splintering. I assume that much the same process was used in colonial homes with wooden floors for the same reasons. hope this was a help. Keep up the good work!
Thank you - - I appreciate it!
A most enjoyable read here, I learned a lot! Though we're quarantined these days, there are plants and seeds being planted in gardens and in pots on patios or porches. I'm trimming old leaves from my Rosemary plant, and drying them a bit before freezing them. Wish I used them to cook with. I shall gift them to someone else. My plants are all in pots. As soon as the last frost, they will live on my porch all summer. I asked my grown son the other day when their last frost would be where he lives. Even though he ives in high desert country, there are many farmers around there. I bet they know when the last frost date might be. Incidentally, here in North Carolina, our last frost is near Mother's Day usually.
In general, the last frost for metro-Detroit is in mid-May - right around the 10th.
Thank you for your kind words - I do appreciate it.
What a lovely post!
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