Harvesting Flax: Keeping in the Spirit of the Past

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If you vacation in a remote,  rural area  for more than a week straight - perhaps small-town America  where heavy traffic consists of three cars at a blinking stop light  - you may find yourself in a dizzy panic mode upon returning to the fast-pace hustle and bustle of city life,  with speeding traffic and horns beeping,  loud music with deep bass a-blaring and a-thumping,  and construction trucks everywhere adding to the congestion and noise.

This is sort of  the way a living historian may feel returning home after an event spent in the past,  immersed in a more pastoral surrounding where old-time traditions abound.

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So----when does living history cease to be pretending...?

As soon as you start to think of the past as happening  (as opposed to it having happened),  a new way of conceiving history becomes possible.  Reenacting,  and to an even greater extent,  living history,  allows us to see the inhabitants of the past in a more sympathetic way:  not as a series of graphs and charts showing data of age,  race,  sex,  or occupations,  but,  rather,  as investigations into the sensations of being alive in a different time.  You can start to gain an understanding as to why people lived the way they did,  and even why they believed things which we may find simply incredible.  You can gain this insight because you know that these people were human,  like you,  and that some of their reactions are simply natural for their time.  So,  in being able to do this sort of  time-travel,  or what I also call mind-travel,  allows one to understand these people from long ago not only in terms of evidence through research,  but also in terms of their humanity,  their hopes & fears,  and even the sense & sensibilities of their lives.

American Gothic?  Green Acres?   
Tales From The Green Valley?
Mayhaps  Jonathan and Suzanna Heacock  (my 18th century
5th great grandparents who were Quaker farmers)? 
Or how about Samuel and Anna Daggett,  whose house
now sits insideGreenfield Village?
We'll take 'em all,  but really,  we're just Ken & Patty!

It is in this way we can be reminded that history is much more than a strictly educational process.  Truly understanding the past is a matter of  experience as well as knowledge;  it is a striving to make a spiritual,  emotional,  poetic,  dramatic,  and inspirational connection with our forebears.  It is about our personal reactions to the challenges of living in previous centuries and earlier cultures,  and our understanding of what makes one century different from another.  We know what love,  fear,  pain,  anger,  grief,  sadness,  and anxiety is like today.  Those in the past knew as well.  This is the human relation we have with our forebears.

To accomplish this sort of living history is to use,  utilize,  and include many different source materials,  especially primary sources  (no,  a Hollywood movie or a  "history-based"  television show is,  by far,  the least  "source"  you would ever want to use),  including books of diaries,  journals,  broadsides,  and even foods of the time.  Getting our heads,  as best as we can,  out of  today - out of modern thought - and into the realm of  our knowledge of the past should always be a main goal of a living historian  (hence,  the importance of  actual research through the means mentioned).

And I shouldn't even have to mention accurate clothing.

So this all ties in with today's posting as we did the chores of the 18th century,  doing our best to block the modern - the thoughts,  the biases,  and the current events that tend to infiltrate our living history past - from our minds,  and we focused on living in 1771.  

We are not claiming to be perfect,  mind you  (and who,  from our time,  is?),  but I like to think that we're heading in the right direction.

You know,  I gotta say I really enjoyed this special time with my wife.

Now what does all of this have to do with pulling flax?

Well,  if you've been reading Passion for the Past of late then you may be aware of the seasonal historical experiment a select few of us have been working on.  It all began in October 2020 when I got the bright idea to spend a full day in and around a frontier log cabin to experience life as if it were 1770,  including period activities and even cooking a meal on the hearth.  Those who took part - a few of us from Citizens of the American Colonies - did so with vim and vigor,  and it was so much better than we could have imagined it to be.  I was especially pleased to hear we could continue on with this living history approach to the past into the Winter in January 2021,  followed by Spring  (May),  and Summer  (July) - only to begin again this fall.  No,  we're not actually living there - just spending one day at a time each season doing the chores and activities of our 18th century ancestors to experience the past rather than only read or speak about it.

Winter - an idea flickers while Rebecca spins...

It was during our January excursion that I processed raw flax into a spin-able fabric;  I then gave it to Rebecca to spin into linen thread,  and when one of the people on the board of the Waterloo Historical Society saw this she came up with a brilliant idea:  what if we actually grew flax from seed,  cared for it throughout the growing season,  then process it upon harvesting---wouldn't that be cool?  Of course we jumped at the opportunity,  and since the 1760 Daggett House located at Greenfield Village in Dearborn,  Michigan is my go-to place for nearly anything for 1700s home life,  I contacted a friend there who lead me in the right direction in purchasing heirloom flax seeds for planting - the same variety that people like the Daggetts would have used 250 years ago.  In other words,  being as historically authentic and accurate as possible,  from the chores to the process in planting to the type of plants we're growing to the tools we would use to the clothing we would wear,  and even to the food we would eat.  

Immersing ourselves in the 18th century.

Spring planting

Come springtime,  that's what we did:  we planted flax.  Given that the patch was not tremendously large,  you would not think that it would have taken us all day to plant,  but it did.  

In the picture to the left you see Larissa and I sowing,  but Jackie & Charlotte joined in as well.  It was a  "family"  affair,  for that is what we try to represent during our 1770s cabin excursions - an 18th century family.  For this springtime planting we had spectators come through,  most of which were farmers.  But they do not farm in the way we did:  sowing and watering by hand was nearly as foreign to them as it was to city-folk.  So their kids - farm kids,  mind you - actually learned quite a bit,  with even their parents telling them how much busier they would have been had they lived  "in the old days."  

Summer weeding and care of the flax patch

Then came summer,  and a few of us,  once again,  spent a day at the cabin,  excited to see how well the flax was growing.  But it was a hot day so cooking on the open-hearth was kept to a minimum,  and most of our time was spent in the summer sun,  weeding the flax patch,  which hadn't been touched since planting,  for Waterloo is leaving it solely up to us living historians to complete this experiment,  which I greatly appreciate.

Please understand,  the cabin is not very close to where we live - it takes over 90 minutes to get there,  and that is almost totally by freeway - so to keep a constant eye on our flax is not going to happen.  However,  the good people who care for the cabin and the other historic structures upon the land there have very kindly kept me abreast of how well our flax was doing,  even e-mailing me pictures every-so-often. 

So it was on this July day there that we planned for our fall visit - actually we will be there twice during this favorite time of year for me:  one time in October and then again in November.  Fortunately,  knowing that flax matures in 90-100 days,  and we planted it on May 8,  I was also aware that it would be ready for harvesting way before the fall months - sometime in mid-August - and had to make a harvest plan.  Lucky for me,  I work as a parapro in a classroom so I do have the summer off,  but I didn't want to do it all myself.  Plus,  with all of the reenactments that occur in August - nearly every weekend - it would be difficult to gather everyone for a flax-pulling day,  especially not knowing when that day would be  (we also have our modern lives to live,  doncha know).  So when I received the word it was ready,  my wife,  Patty  (who has not been a part of the 18th century cabin crew),  mentioned she wouldn't mind coming out with me,  especially if I could not get others to join me at such a last minute decision.  I told her that in keeping in the spirit of the past and of our farming ancestors,  it was to be a period-dress trip,  for we've planted and cared for these heirloom plants all along while in the 18th century and I wanted the entire process to be done in the same manner.

She agreed.

So off to the cabin we did go as soon as we got the call,

the flax was ready,  we pulled it steady,

down to the roots and all.

Okay...so I'm not much of a poet  (and don't I know it!),  but it is exactly what we did!

We arrived mid-afternoon on a very hot and muggy day - August 20,  to be exact - wearing the clothing of our ancestors,  ready to become Samuel & Anna Daggett  or my 18th century 5th great grandparents Jonathan and Suzanna Heacock  (lol).

The heat was truly on.

Though we had a goodly amount of flax here,  we also had lots of weeds,  unfortunately. Since this is all new to me,  I was not sure how much seed to get,  but now that I have a
rough idea,  next year I plan to double or triple the amount.
And to attempt to come out more often to weed.

If flax is pulled too soon there will be too much waste in the scutching and hackling processing steps.  If it is pulled too late,  the fiber will be too coarse.  So the best time is when the seeds are beginning to change from pale green to a pale brown color and the stalks will be yellow two-thirds up.  Once the plants are ready,  they must be pulled immediately, delaying not even a day.

It's all a learning process for me.

To my untrained eye,  the flax looked ready for pulling.
Found out I was right---it was  ready.
Yes,  I see other substances mixed in that will be removed.

Oh,  someone was all smiles while in the shady part of the patch!

The plants are pulled,  roots and all,  to give the maximum length of fiber. 
Plants of similar length can be bundled together,  keeping the sheaves even at the
root end as much as possible.

It did not take us nearly as long to pull the flax as I thought, 
which was okay by me...

...because the sun beat down on us pretty good.

From the diary of Martha Ballard:

August 4,  1786,  Friday

Clear & Hott.  we pulld flax.

Just the same for us:  it was a clear & hot and a Friday,  

though it was August 20 rather than the 4th.

But it could have been 1786.

Pretending?
I think not.

As silly as it may sound,  this was a period moment.
We looked and felt the part...aside from speaking with the two ladies
at the gift shop,  there was not another soul in sight - past or present.

"But Ken,  you don't have your coat on.  A proper gentleman would've worn his coat."

Of course I don't have it on!  Like any smart person - no matter what time period - if it's too hot,  it stays off.  So,  yeah,  the broiling sun told me to take it off!

Patty tied the flax into sheaves.

Sheaves of plants are tied with twine to be stood against each other in groups of maybe 10 or 12 sheaves to dry.  It takes about a week in good weather to dry the plants.  

Our bundled flax.

The sheaves can tolerate some rain,  but if rain is heavy,  or if you must harvest in rain,  you will need to bring the crop indoors to dry.

Drying the flax inside my house before the rippling and retting begins.
Yeah...I know...modern table and all...but it's all I have  (I'm not going to ruin my good wooden tables),  and the weather consistently calls for possible showers daily due to the unsettled mass of  high temps and humidity,  so I thought it best to dry them inside using the best I have.

The next part of the process is rippling:  the removal of seed heads.  This is usually done by pulling the stems through a coarse comb.  I do not have a rippling comb or a flax flail so I used a regular comb,  which seemed to work fine.

However,  I do plan to get a flax comb over the winter.
Anyhow,  in keeping with the spirit of the past,  here I am, 
dressed for the occasion.

This is what made it into the bowl within the first few bundles.
I actually tried picking the seed pods by hand,  but it would literally take me
days to pick them all.

Following rippling is retting.  This loosens the fiber bundles from the stem’s inner core and outer epidermis.  Retting can be done by spreading the stems loosely on a lawn;  they will be kept damp by dew and rain  (dew-retting).  They will have to be turned over every few days in order to obtain an even ret.  Dew-retting can take anywhere between 4 and 6 weeks.  Another method is to keep the stems submerged in water  (water-retting),  and this was the way I did it.  I have a small yard and a dog who would not allow dew-retting to occur.  Due to the fact that I live in a city,  I have little means of water-retting in any kind of a stream or natural waterway,  so I used the next best thing available to me:  the old plastic turtle sandbox in which our grandkids play.

Hmmmm...what would the Daggett's say?

The water needs to be changed every day,  else it'll begin to smell foul.  Changing the water daily prevents the plants from getting slimy and smelly by the time retting is finished.  Water-retting is much faster than dew-retting,  and depending on the temperature of the water,  retting can take anywhere between 6 and 10 days. 

I even used the turtle shell covering turned upside down!

Whichever way the flax is retted,  it is important to test it regularly to avoid over-retting.  Under-retted flax can always be processed again,  but over-retted flax is spoilt.  To test if retting is complete,  bend a few stems and see if the fibers come loose easily from the core.

So----this is where we'll leave it,  for this is as far as I've gotten.  The next step in the flax process will be to break it,  scutch it,  hackle it,  then,  finally,  spin it.  And some of that will be taking place in October.

All while wearing our period clothing.

Yeah,  you may think I'm off kilter,  but that's okay.

I'll still be your friend.

Stay tuned.

~I posted on Facebook some of the photos of my wife and I taken on flax harvest day,  and upon seeing them my friend Steve F.  wrote:  "Keeping it period throughout is so commendable though.  Totally your style,  the dedication of a living historian,  not just a reenactor."

And another friend,  John R.,  wrote:  "I must say,  sir,  you definitely  'walk the walk.' "~

So when does  living history cease to be pretending...?

Until next time,  see you in time.

To read about our summertime excursion at the cabin,  click HERE

To read about our springtime excursion at the cabin,  click HERE

To read about our wintertime excursion at the cabin,  click HERE

To read about our autumn excursion at the cabin,  click HERE

To learn about flax and other textiles,  please click HERE

To read about the Daggett's and their home,  please click HERE and HERE

To read about how I try to emulate a colonial feel in my own home,  please click HERE

To learn more about a colonial spring on the farm,  please click HERE

To read about how I spent another colonial autumn,  please click HERE

To learn about a history of a colonial Autumn,  please click HERE

To learn about an 18th century winter,  please click HERE

To learn about a colonial summer in a historical sense,  please click HERE

Much of my information came from THIS site.

~   ~   ~