A Day in the Life: A Bitter Cold Winter's Day in 1772 at the Cabin (and a bit on Candlemas, too!)

We're at it again!

For the 2nd year in a row,  a few of us Citizens of the American Colonies spent a cold - a bitter cold - January day in 1772 at a frontier log cabin.  Why 1772?  Well,  when we first began using the cabin  (in the autumn of 2020),  we chose the year as being 1770 - exactly a 250 year gap.  Then for our seasonal times at the cabin last year  (winter,  spring,  summer,  and fall 2021)  it became 1771.  Thus,  now in 2022,  our cabin excursions also move up another year;  meaning for us it is now 1772.  In this manner,  our time-travel trips sort of make sense chronologically - 250 years apart from today - and while we become our alter-egos in the past,  we,  unbeknownst to us,  are leading up to the beginning of the Revolutionary War,  in 1775.  You see,  our move to the frontier is tied to the occurrences of what lead to the fight for independence.

But it is also about homelife,  about us being nervous where it could all lead while trying to live our normal life,  so that's where our concentration is focused on.

~And today's post is mostly about the cold of winter.~

Like the others I published in this cabin series  (linked at the bottom),  today's posting is a documentation - a sort of souvenir - of the occurrences of one of the most immersive and amazing days I've personally ever had the pleasure to be a part of in my living history experiences:  'tis an amazing experience to have such an opportunity to participate in 18th century winter activities. 

~   ~   ~

"Presently  (Einstein)  said that our ideas about time are largely mistaken.  And I don't doubt for an instant that he was right once more.  Because one of his final contributions not too long before he died was to prove that all of his theories are unified.  They're not separate but inter-connected.

He meant that we're mistaken in our conception of what the past,  present,  and future really are.  We think the past is gone,  the future hasn't happened,  and that only the present exists.  Because the present is all we can see.  It's only natural.  (Einstein)  said we're like people in a boat without oars drifting along a winding river.  Around us we see only the present.  We can't see the past,  back in the bends and curves behind us.  But,  it's there.

So I suppose I can say the same about our cabin experiences.  All around we see a building unchanged from the day it was built to represent a cabin of another century.  Now,  picture an arrangement to sort of sublet that very cabin for identical dates based around the seasonal year.  If Albert Einstein is right - as he is - then hard as it may be to comprehend,  the winter of 1772 still exists.  That silent frontier cabin that existed back in that winter precisely as it exists today. Unaltered and unchanged,  identical in each,  and existing in each.  I believe it may be possible,  you understand,  for a person to walk out of that unchanged cabin and into that other winter,  or whichever seasonal date chosen.

(But),  the uncountable millions of invisible threads that exist in the here and now would bind that person to this current winter,  no matter how unaltered the cabin around him.  However,  it occurred to me that just possibly there is a way to dissolve those threads..."

(Taken from the book  "Time and Again"  by Jack Finney,  with subtle changes by yours truly) 

Trudging through the snow to reach the cabin,  our feet aching from the cold.

Bright and very early on the morning of January 29,  Larissa and I met up at Charlotte's house.  Charlotte offered to drive out to where the cabin is located at Historic Waterloo Farm,  since it was only the three of us who were going.

Now,  it was cold...bitter cold.  The temperature at this point in the day was a frigid  2  below zero.  And we felt the sting of the minus degrees.  So,  as we packed Charlotte's auto with the items we were bringing,  we all looked at each other and had the same thought:  are we crazy??

Yeah,  we are...but then,  all the best people are. 

Crazy,  that is. 

Bonkers.

How else were we to experience what our colonial ancestors felt?

Not with a portable heater,  that's for certain.

This is it!  The cabin we call our home a few times a year.
This photo was taken by Brian Dewey~

The wool cloaks we were wearing certainly kept us warm.  In fact,  mine kept me
every bit as warm as my modern nylon coat does.

My knit cap and mittens,  I am proud to say,  came from raw wool that my wife first 

sorted,  scoured,  then picked the dirt,  dung,  straw,  and other impurities out of,  

hand-carded,  spun into yarn on her spinning wheel,  dyed with natural dyes  

(I believe she used black walnut here),  then knitted.

Yes,  I am proud to wear them. 

~Before going inside,  we had a group  "sketch"~
C'mon!  You can color it later!  We're freezing!
The high that day - even with the sun - was only 18.

A welcoming fire in the hearth awaited us as we entered.
The three of us stood in front of the flames,  making the attempt to warm
ourselves from the frigid temps.
First the frontside...

...then the backside.

A winter's day...
a few of the accessories we brought along:
a lantern  (with cowhorn pane translucence),  candle holder/pipe holder, 
and a jug filled with cyder.
Also,  a candle snuffer.

We never cease to learn something new about the old ways when we come to the cabin.  Knowing how cold it would be,  Brian,  the Waterloo Historical Society president,  made a replicated period footwarmer for the ladies to use.

Larissa and Charlotte try the foot warmer~
The Dutch used the foot warmers in the 1600s.  The use of foot stoves spread
throughout colonial America,  especially in areas like New Amsterdam by
the Dutch customs.  There seem to be very little reference to the use of
foot stoves in inventories because they were not highly valued by the
first American colonists. 

The two paintings here show foot warmers very similar to the one Brian made for Larissa & Charlotte to use.  Foot warmers did not change much from the 17th to the 18th century,  from what I can tell.

This one is from 1654 and is called
"Woman at the Hearth"  by Jacob Vrel.
Both show foot stoves.

Dutch artist Vermeer's painting 

entitled  “Milk Maid in the 

Discourse of Love”  (17th c)

By the eighteenth century,  the use of foot stoves with a pierced tin and 

wood construction was essential in America.  The warmers were usually 

a wooden box with slits or a pierced tin wooden box.  Both kinds had 

an opening on one side with a metal or earthenware pot to hold 

the coals inside.

And do you know what?

It worked beautifully!

"This day Jack Frost bites very hard..."  says a 1772 diary entry.

I could have written that note,  for my toes in the leather buckle shoes I wore felt the stinging bite of Jack Frost from almost as soon as I arrived,  and especially after being in the cold and snow - they had not ached like this in a long time - and because the inside of the cabin wasn't really much warmer than the outside,  it took a while for the  "thaw"  to take place. 

They did,  however,  somewhat come back to life when I defrosted them while at the fireplace.

We spent our first bit of time there warming up before getting started
with our daily activities.
You will notice we kept our outdoor winter wear on pretty much
throughout the day,  just as our colonial ancestors did.

In the attempt to cope with cold,  winter could be anything from inconvenient to challenging to deadly for most American colonists.  We,  just like the forebears we were emulating,  put up with the inconvenience and took up the challenge of keeping warm and busy in a colonial winter.

Anne Eliza Clark thanked her mother for the yarn mitts,  which were of  “great service to me when I sweep my chamber and make my bed.”  Mittens were commonly worn inside as well as outside because,  in many cases,  there was little difference in the temperature.  Much of the heat escaped up chimneys,  and drafts were always a problem.  Without the aid of room screens and fireplace screens,  a person could feel both hot and cold  at the same time standing in front of a fire. 

The time we are representing here was during what we now call  "The Little Ice Age,"  a period when the world saw much harsher winters - a noticeable lowering of temps in comparison to today with higher amounts of snow.  

As horrible as all of this may sound for our colonial ancestors,  we must remember that this was the environment in which they lived.  Yes,  it was still cold,  but they survived for they were used to it and could deal with it much better than we imagine they could,  similar to those of us in the modern age without air-conditioning who are accustomed to the higher temperatures of summer better than those who have that a/c luxury.

For us at the cabin,  our January day was one of the coldest of the 2021 / 2022 winter season up to that point.  That,  in a historical sense,  pleased us more than if we had a January thaw instead.

We felt the cold,  just like the founding generation!

The ladies began preparing our dinner meal straight away...
...once they warmed up a little.

The creek is frozen solid and water was needed for cooking and for tea.
Out to the clean,  white snow I did go,  scooping it up into a pot.

And filled the pot up high to melt.
Unfortunately,  as you may have learned in your science class, 
a full pot of snow will only leave you with a few inches of water
once melted,  so I repeatedly ventured out to get more.

The bedpan had a light covering of water   (yes,  water!)  which froze into
a thin layer of ice within a very short time inside the cabin.

I've been to Greenfield Village countless times,  watching the ladies prepare
and cook and then eat their meal.  It's wonderful to now be a part of that.
Though not at Greenfield Village.

Now,  you do know that there is no hunting in this area,  right?
But one day I truly will go hunting while in period clothing with my
1760 fusil musket. 
And I will bring the meat here,  to the cabin.
One day...mark me...

Off the grid...hoping I return with some sustenance...

Coming back from the woods...empty handed.
Not even a ground hog...

I'm home!
Sadly,  with no meat.
Perhaps I shall try this evening...
When we are at the cabin,  especially if there are no visitors around,  we do feel as if we are off the grid to some extent.  We feel secluded,  for,  aside from  "quick sketches"  from the camera,  there are few reminders of modern times.

I was very happy that we could use the pipkin I received for Christmas.  I first saw such an unusual looking pot while at the Daggett House inside Greenfield Village but had never seen it in use...or,  to be honest,  even knew what it was or what it was for.  I saw one being used for the first time last summer  (2021)  at the Lac Ste.  Claire Voyageur reenactment when a chocolateer had one for part of his chocolate-making demonstration. 

Upon further research I learned that a pipkin is an earthenware cooking pot used for cooking over direct heat from coals or a wood fire.  However,  they were not held in direct flame which would crack the ceramic.  Instead it was simply put close to the fire - close enough to heat the liquid inside.  It was common for acidic liquids,  such as apple cider,  to be warmed with them.  Post-medieval pipkins had a hollow handle into which a stick might be inserted for manipulation,  which is exactly what I have.

Pouring in the cyder to warm.

This was the first opportunity to use my pipkin,  filled with cyder, 
and in this photo I am setting it on the hearth near the flames.
In the hanging pot,  the stew is cooking.
This will be quite a meal!
Yes,  it's these little things that get me excited.

The hearth worked double-duty,  for it served to help keep us
warm as well as cook our food.  

Warming our toeses I supposes...!

In the 18th century,  when a young girl married,  her mother would
send her off to  "housekeeping"  with numerous pots and trivets and other
cooking utensils,  for it was the massive fireplace that was the center of it all. 
Swinging iron arms protruding from the surrounding stone or brick
held heavy,  massive pots,  enabling the cook the luxury of moving the pots
closer to or further from the fire.

By the way,  what we call  pot holders here in the 21st century were originally called kettle-holders.  Pot holders  at that time were the metal stand suspension equipment designed to hold pots off of the ground. 

"Soft reflections shone from the pewter porringer hanging from the hearth; 
a sunbeam flecked with bright light the pewter candlesticks which were set on
the mantel."

And finally,  the meal was ready.

This point right here was one of those instances where I had a  "you are really there"  moment.  Sometimes those occurrences just sneak up at the most peculiar times.

It was such a fine traditional meal of stew,  corn bread,  and cyder.

So good---so warm---perfect on such a day.

We ate close to the fireplace - the fire snapped and crackled as it,  too,  ate.
What can grow as it's fed,  needs air to breathe,  and can also die,  but is not alive?
Why,  a fire,  of course!

Ken getting a bit artsy in photographing Charlotte.

Look in the mirror...

Normally I try to bring something  "period"  to do,  usually in somewhat of a physical vein.  Unfortunately I have been battling a serious bout with sciatica - 'tis so painful to do anything! - and due to this matter I kept my activity on the lighter side:  

So,  with quill and ink,  I wrote a journal entry about the day's activities.  
(A Brian Dewey pic)

My quill needs some sharpening or I will have to get a new one,  for I had very blotchy
penmanship  (normally it's not this bad).

Larissa knitted,  I wrote in my journal,  and Charlotte entertained us  (lol).
All by the warmth of the fire,  which seemed to be doing its job, 
for if you notice I had taken off my cloak.

The threesome who braved a 1772 winter's day.
Thank you ladies for spending this day with me.

(Larissa set the timer on her phone for this photo of the three of us)

By late afternoon it was time for us to take our leave.  We had spent from early morning  'til late afternoon - sunset - here at the cabin,  and though I believe the three of us would have enjoyed at least another couple hours there,  we were ready to go back to our 21st century lives.

Perhaps next year we'll remain a bit longer,  providing the high temperatures are not in the bitter degree range.  But one thing you can count on---we will be back.  This is just too special for us.

When the sun goes down,

and the clouds all frown,

night has begun for the sunset.

Shadows on the ground,

never make a sound,

fading away in the sunset.

I can see it all from this great height,

I can feel the sun slipping out of sight.

And the world still goes on through the night

(Thank you,  Larissa,  for taking this awesome shot)

In the meantime,  see you back at the cabin come springtime.

And now for some - - - 

~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~  ~   ~

~~~~~~Passion for the Past  Extras!~~~~~~

~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~  ~   ~

Every February 2 we celebrate Groundhog Day.  But,  if you happened to be in the American colonies during the 18th century,  you may had been celebrating Candlemas that same day instead.  Candlemas,  also known as the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus Christ,  the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary,  or the Feast of the Holy Encounter  (Jesus’  first entry into the temple),  which commemorates the presentation of Jesus at the Temple,  is an ancient Christian holiday celebrated by both Catholics and Protestants.

I took this candle light photo inside the
1780 McGuffey Cabin.

Candlemas,  by the way,  occurs at the time between the December solstice and the March equinox,  so many people traditionally marked that day as winter’s  “halfway point”  while waiting for the spring.  And since many Christians consider Jesus as the “light of the world,” it is fitting that candles are blessed on this day and that a candle-lit procession precedes the religious service,  or mass.  

By at least the seventeenth century a popular superstition had arisen that,  if the sky was clear on Candlemas and the Sun was shining,  there would be more winter to come.  This was before any rodent was brilliant enough to predict when spring would arrive. 

It was also on February 2 that Pagans celebrated Imbalc,  an ancient Celtic festival associated with the goddess Brigid,  to mark the beginning of spring,  and,  as in ancient times,  celebrants would light candles,  make beds for Brigid to visit and bless their house,  make offerings to her,  and engage in weather divination.

As for the groundhog:  in around the eighteenth century,  the idea arose in German-speaking lands that if a badger comes out of his hole on Candlemas and lies out in the sun,  there will be four more weeks of winter.  But,  if the badger comes out of his hole and finds it is too cloudy to sunbathe,  he will go back in his hole and winter will be over soon.  A variant of this was brought over to the English colonies by the Pennsylvania Dutch sometime in the eighteenth century.  Here,  the badger was replaced with a groundhog,  the number of weeks that winter would last was extended to six rather than four,  and the determining factor of how long winter would last became whether or not the groundhog saw his shadow rather than if the badger decided to sunbathe.  It was in 1887 when a newspaper editor in Punxsutawney,  Pennsylvania,  declared a random groundhog who later became known as  “Punxsutawney Phil”  the United States’ official forecasting groundhog as an advertising scheme  (which continues to this day). 

Some still celebrate Candlemas here in 2022,  others Imbalc,  while the media commits itself to the more entertaining Groundhog Day.

I hope this adds to your knowledge of everyday history.  Whichever you celebrate,  it’s nice to know we are at the midway point between Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox,  and winter will hopefully stay in the winter months and spring will hopefully come when it's supposed to in the spring months.

By the way,  groundhogs are not only edible,  they're tender and delicious if properly cleaned and prepared.  They live on a completely vegetarian diet,  and carry no life threatening diseases for humans.  Groundhogs are similar to rabbit in taste,  and most recipes for groundhog have you prepare them in the same manner.

So why the picture of Colonial Ken with my musket looking like
I'm about to go hunting?
Meat on the table during these last six weeks of winter!
Mmmm....ground hog...

Who knows?
Perhaps next year our winter cabin excursion will also include a Candlemas celebration as well. 

...............................................................................................

Here is,  unfortunately,  bit of sad news...

James Townsend
Founder of Townsend & Son.

Back during a time when finding period items for reenacting was near impossible,  this man began a business making and selling such items:

"It is with deep regret that we inform you that James Townsend has passed away over the weekend after complications from a heart attack.  Many of you were friends with Jim.  He started selling candle lanterns to the historical reenacting community in 1973,  which turned into a catalog mail order company that was run out of his garage,  and eventually turned into the Jas.  Townsend and Son that you know today.  For almost fifty years he enjoyed,  encouraged,  and supported the historical reenacting community.  He will be missed."

My three pair of colonial shoes,  my woolen cloak,  and numerous high quality 18th century replicated accessories I have,  such as my Betty Lamp and a few awesome lanterns,  came from Jas.  Townsend & Son.  In fact,  when I ordered a lantern for my birthday last year,  they put the cow horn translucents in for free as a gift/favor!

God bless James  (Jas)  Townsend for what he started and what his son Jon now carries on.  He had a vision to bring the past to all who needed it.  And that vision,  lucky for us,  came true.

Many  (but not all)  of our period items that we use we purchase from the above mentioned Jas.  Townsend or from Samson Historical.  Both are excellent.

Foot Warmer information came from THIS page

To read about our 2020 autumn excursion at the cabin,  click HERE

To read about our 2021 wintertime excursion at the cabin,  click HERE

To read about our 2021 springtime excursion at the cabin,  click HERE

To read about our 2021 summertime excursion at the cabin,  click HERE

To read about our 2021 autumn excursion making candles at the cabin,  click HERE

To read about harvesting the flax at the cabin in the late summer of 2021,  click HERE

To learn about historic farm tools,  please click HERE

To learn about a year on a colonial farm - living by the seasons - click HERE

To learn about colonial textiles,  click HERE

To learn how colonials survived a winter in the 18th century,  click HERE

To learn how colonials lived with candle light,  click HERE

Adding everyday life to colonial living,  click HERE

To purchase a wonderful DVD about colonial daily life,  including farming,  click HERE

~   ~   ~