Daggett Winter Captures and Stories

Daggett Winter Captures and Stories

I've done winter posts.

I've done Daggett posts.

But I've not done a post solely of Daggett in the winter.

With Daggett being my favorite historical house,  not only inside Greenfield Village,  but pretty much anywhere,  I figure I might as well add to my collection of Daggett postings.

Lots of history here - some repeated,  some newly researched.

Hope you enjoy it~

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I've had some tell me I'm obsessed with the Daggett House.

You know what?
If that's what you think,  then don't look at my pictures or read my posts,  right?   (you know who you are)~~~
I can think of far worse things to be  "obessed"  with,  though  "obsessed"  is a poor choice of words,  by the way.  I think I'm more enamored  rather than obsessed  ("obsessed implies an intense,  often unhealthy,  and uncontrollable preoccupation with someone or something,  sometimes leading to self-destructive behavior.  Enamored means being charmed or captivated,  characterized by a more positive and sometimes dreamy fascination")

We've been having a heck of a winter season,  this January 2026.  December also had its share of cold weather,  but January has been brutal.  However,  sometimes winter weather can have an air of beauty not seen in other seasons.  For instance,  there's a story about this favorite Daggett winter picture of mine that I actually took a few years back.

My  "over-the-wall"  capture of the Daggett House and the Farris Windmill.
I think it is  "picture perfect"!

It was a wintery day in late December back in 2021,  and I had tickets for Holiday Nights at Greenfield Village.  All day long it snowed,  and I desparately wanted to capture such winter conditions at my favorite house while the snow was a-falling.   According to the weather forecasters,  I knew the storm was supposed to end by the time the Village would begin that evening's festivities...plus,  it would be dark when the gates opened to allow us inside,  and I wanted a particular daytime look.

What to do...what to do...?

Before journeying to the Village,  I posted on Facebook that I was looking for this certain picture,  and could anyone who lived in that area please take it for me.  Unfortunately  (and understandably)  no one accepted my offer.  However...another friend of mine named Ian offered to do a painting rather than a picture of what I wanted.

Well!  That would be different!  Why not?

But,  my wife and I still decided that we should go a few hours earlier and eat at a restaurant near Greenfield Village,  which would give us time to eat and to capture the image I was hoping to get.  So we drove the 21 miles from Eastpointe to Dearborn,  slip-sliding all the way as the snow continued to fall.  It took nearly twice as long to get there as it normally does,  but we made it in plenty of time to make our plan work.  And though it was a little later in the afternoon than I intended - about 4:00 - it was still light enough to take care of business.

When we arrived,  we knew we were not able to get into Greenfield Village just yet - there was still two hours to go before the 6:00 entry...so...where there's a will,  there's a way.  While in my colonial clothing - from my cocked hat past my knee breeches to my buckle leather shoes  (and my snow-covered woolen cloak),  I walked in the snow along the high bricked serpentine wall along the modern road that ran alongside the Village to the far end where,  just on the other side of the wall - only a few yards away - stood my favorite house---the Daggett House.  I could see its roof above the wall.  As an added bonus,  next to the house there was the Farris Windmill.  This added greatly to my original vision.  So,  I reached my camera up over the snow-covered wall,  my arms outstretched as far as they could while I stood on my tippy-toes,  for I am not a tall man,  and snapped away,  hoping I would be able to get what I came for.

I did! 

And the picture you see above is what I came home with---the best winter souvenir I could've hoped for.  My efforts paid off!

As for this picturte below-----

"Small little quick ditty done today.  Ken asked for a winter picture for a blog.  Instead of taking the picture.  I painted it."
I appreciated this so much that I purchased his work and it now hangs in my house!

So...later that same night... my friends Jenny and Amy showed up to Holiday Nights,  and since all three of us were dressed in our winter colonial clothing,  we decided to take advantage of the weather... 

Here I am with Amy & Jenny,  also dressed in their colonial clothing,  walking near a wooded snow-covered pathway off to the side of the Daggett House.  With two of us hanging onto our lit lanterns,  we created quite a period sight!

My wife,  who was dressed modern,  snapped photos of us continuously throughout the evening,  enjoying rural America 250 years earlier.  The candle lanterns added greatly.

Making my way by a lit lantern
Yes,  my  "dogs"  (toes)  were barking,  they were so cold.
I needed to warm them...

On another evening in late December,  though this time in 2017,   I visited Greenfield Village,  again while wearing my colonial clothing during their Holiday Nights event.  My woolen cloak worked very well,  I must say,  for the temperature on this night was very biting cold - down to the single digits - and the wind blew harshly,  but my cloak kept my upper chest area quite warm,  thankfully,  though below my knees was quite cold.  

Upon entering the Daggett home,  I was welcomed by the presenters to warm myself near the great hall hearth.  Coming in from such cold temperatures helped to give me a better understanding of how our ancestors must have felt on such a brutally cold night,  for the heat emanating from the fire at that moment felt as good as any modern forced-air furnace.  My toes in those leather buckle shoes were biting...stinging - they ached like I never felt them ache before - and it took a while for the  "thaw"  to take place,  and once it did,  they,  too,  came back to life,  and the pain began to dull.

This photo was taken from my wife on the bitter night described above.

Everytime I look at this picture,  I remember that night and the biting cold.  Yes,  the warmth of the fire emanated over me as I stood right wear you see me - not too close,  mind you! - and I appreciated it like I never had done before.

Being out in the single digit temps and harsh winds for over four hours in period clothing once again certainly gave me more of an understanding,  appreciation,  and a deeper respect for our ancestors and the way they survived.  I needed wood to chop to warm myself  (lol)!

Well,  so now you've seen how I have dealt with winter in period clothing.  Since we are in the midst of a cold spell here in January as I write this,  I think it's a good time to remember how those from the 18th century,  including the Daggetts,  would have handled it:

the 18th century saw the tail-end of what is now known as  “The Little Ice Age,”  a period lasting from around the years 1300 to the mid-1800s.  It was during this time the world saw much harsher winters than the previous and following centuries,  and many well-documented winter storms capable of dropping three feet of snow over a matter of hours were to be had.

On a bitter cold January morning,  a New England man named Thomas Chaplin wrote,  “The thermometer is down to 20 degrees in the house at eight in the morning,  and everything is frozen hard,  including eggs,  milk,  and ink,  and every piece of crockery that water was left in overnight is cracked.”

He had cracked crocks lol...

In the northern New England colonies,  if the temperature got low enough and remained there for some time,  water in the wells would freeze up,  as it did for Ebenezer Parkman,  who went without water for weeks in 1780:  "Our lowest and best well has been ever since ye great storm,  froze up and filled with snow..."   And Samuel Lane wrote in 1786 that  "after the weather grew cold in winter,  water from the brooks were put into cellars to keep it from freezing for daily use."

Then,  from a diary entry by Anna Green Winslow written in 1772,  "This day Jack Frost bites very hard,  so hard that aunt won't let me go to any school.  My aunt believes this day is 10 degrees colder than it was yesterday;  & moreover,  that she would not put a dog out of doors." 

Harriet Beecher Stowe warned that  “whoever touched a door-latch incautiously in the early morning received a skinning bite from Jack Frost,”  while Harriet Martineau recalled those winter mornings when  “everything you touch seems to blister your fingers with cold.”

There is little doubt the Daggetts had similar experiences,  since they,  too,  lived in New England...in Connecticut.

Here is a photograph taken by my friend,  Ian,  who also painted the picture you saw earlier.
In this picture,  one can feel  the winter wind whipping as the snow swirls.

The following is a dramatization of what a particular day may have been like for the Daggett Family.  I took some of it from:

A Colonial Meal:  A Description by James E.  McWilliams  (taken from the book  "A Revolution in Eating - How the Quest For Food Shaped America")

Though historically accurate,  I greatly modified the original quite a bit to fit the narrative I hoped to present,  including the names:

On a frigid Winter morning in 1775,  Anna Daggett stepped away from her cold root cellar,  and moved into her home where she began to cook at the hearth.   Western Connecticut,  where the Daggett family had lived,  was becoming well known for its open land for pioneer farmers to grow wheat,  barley,  pumpkins and other squash,  green beans,  corn,  apples,  abundant garden vegetables,  and a healthy supply of meat.   And much of that combination,  as it did on most days,  would make up the evening meal.   Anna had started soaking corn kernels at the crack of dawn to soften them for pounding,  an exhausting task made necessary by the little amount needed for the family of five,  rather than use the local gristmill.   She knew that she needed about four cups of cornmeal to feed her husband,  three children,  and herself - not much.   So for the next couple of hours,  Anna and her two daughters,  Asenath and Talitha,  dutifully hunched over a large mortar,  took wooden pestles in hand,  and reduced a tub of white corn kernels into a gritty heap of meal.

Daggett House on a cold January morning.
~Picture taken by Tom Kemper~

Meanwhile,  out in the barn since the wee morning hours,  Samuel Daggett and his son,  Isaiah,  contemplated a decision:  pork or beef?   Colonial farmers primarily slaughtered pigs and cows in late autumn to early winter  (November–December)  to ensure meat didn't spoil,  utilizing the  "blood month"  for processing.  While most butchering was done earlier,  colder,  later winter months like January were often used for remaining stock,  if found to be necessary.  

It wasn't this cold January day,  for what was slaughtered back in the fall was still readily available.  The fact that they even had a choice reflected Sam's preparation as a husbandman.  In those Autumn months of November and December,  when the weather began to cool,  he had slaughtered two piglets and a calf.   The pigs were about seven months old,  the age when their muscle density was low,  fat content high,  and stringy connective tissue still pleasantly soft to the palate.   The calf was around two years old and similarly primed for consumption and preservation.  Slaughtering a piglet was a turbulent task.  It began with a rapid cut to the beast's throat,  followed by a prolonged period of squealing and bloodletting.  The beast was then scalded in a vat of boiling water to loosen its sharp and wiry bristles so they could be easily brushed off.  Samuel would then gather the offal  (the word literally denotes the  "off fall"  after the slaughter)  from the barn floor to make sausage.  He then hacked the corpse into two large chunks,  called flitches,  and placed them aside.  The cow met a similar brutal fate,  but its slaughter took longer,  resulted in a louder and deeper death rattle,  and required greater precision.  Samuel had to not only kill it but also find its joints and dissect it into clean cuts of chucks,  ribs,  loins,  and rounds.  For all the commotion and mess that ensued,  however,  the slaughter was the easy part. 

To have enough to last the winter,  Isaiah and his father managed the more physically taxing jobs of smoking the pork and pickling the beef.  Smoking pork was a procedure dating back to the Middle Ages that sealed in fat and protected freshly cut meat from spoilage.   The two tossed the pork flitches in a large tub of salt,  turning them over repeatedly,  and then hung the coated slabs on metal hooks in order to air them out.   After a day or two,  they hauled the salted pork to the chimney,  which served as a substitute for a smokehouse.   

With the pork hanging in the shaft,  the wood smoke clogged the chimney and slowly coated the meat's surface,  enhancing its flavor while extending its shelf life.  Pickling beef involved submerging the cuts in a brine and vinegar solution that was prepared with salt,  spices,  and saltpeter.   The process took place in large wooden barrels and didn't so much impart flavor as give the acid in the vinegar time to kill the enzymes that decomposed meat.   Sam and Isaiah secured the barrels and rolled them to the corner of the barn,  where they still sat. 

Sadly...the Daggett barn is long gone...

With the girls and Anna still pounding the corn in the kitchen,  and beef and pork frozen solid,  Sam and his son stood in the barn,  considered their inventory,  and made their decision.  Due to the cold weather,  father and son were both thankful no slaughtering need be done this day.  They still had meat well preserved from the fall,  above stairs in the garrett.  They chose beef,  and Isaiah was sent to fetch whatever his mother needed,  for dealing with meat frozen solid during winter typically required several hours to a full day to thaw,  and they relied on methods that utilized the ambient,  cool temperatures of their home rather than modern rapid defrosting.   Frozen solid meat was often moved from the coldest,  unheated storage areas to a slightly warmer,  yet cool,  area of the home,  such as a root cellar,  to thaw slowly over 12–24 hours.  

Smart thinking Sam had prepared for such a dinner meal a day earlier,  and there was some thaw to the beef chosen.  The thawing pork would be for the morrow.

Perhaps this is Talitha helping her mother cook...

After placing three pounds of beef in a warming pan over the kitchen fire,  Anna had her eldest daughter,  Asenath,  who was well-trained in dairy,  quickly fetch some milk and butter,  though milk production was significantly lower in winter due to cold temperatures and limited feed availability.  The young lady had spent the entire morning in the kitchen,  scalding milk pans,  trays,  pots,  and churns in an eighteen-gallon copper pot.   Whatever did not fit into the cauldron had to be cleaned individually.  A colonial dairy had to be pristine.   Any residual milk that dried on the surface of a container or shelf might carry bacteria that would result in not only in a soured product but very possibly in widespread and potentially fatal illness.  Asenath could milk a single cow in about ten minutes.   Out in the barn,  after cleaning her equipment,  she did just that to several of their milk cows.   She allowed the warm milk to cool in a tub and then strained it through a sieve concocted from a hollowed-out wooden bowl covered in a linen towel.   The strained milk rested in earthenware milk trays for a couple hours,  giving the cream a chance to coagulate at the top.   She then skimmed the thick cream with a slotted wooden paddle,  leaving behind the thinner milk that her mother had requested.   

Shut the door!  You are letting the cold air in!
The yoke with a bucket on each end would have been used to carry milk to the house.

With the weather that day on the bitter end of the thermometer,  the churning of the cream into butter took several hours longer rather than only a couple,  as in warmer weather.   Once the butter had formed,  the young lady squeezed out the buttermilk and fed it to the hogs,  a practice that improved the taste of the meat.   As late afternoon set in,  she covered the bottom of a butter dish with salt,  spooned in the thick butter,  patted it down,  and sprinkled the top with another layer of salt.   Asenath then carried a chunk of it over to her mother,  whose cornmeal awaited.

Do you see the butter churn?
For all that needed to be done for this day's meal,  it took a full day.

As Anna warmed the meat and folded the butter and milk into the boiling cornmeal,  Sam sent Isaiah out to the cider house,  a small structure adjacent to the barn,  where they had spent several long Autumn afternoons mashing hundreds of apples gathered from the Daggetts'  orchard into a gloppy pulp of apple meal.  They placed the sweet mass of fruit into the small cider press inside the house.   Sam and his son then proceeded to twist the screw handle and squeeze the pulp as quickly and as tightly as they could,  pressing the frigid apple juice into a small vat.   Though Sam Daggett owned a larger,  what may be considered commercial cider press,  he had his barrels of cider he spent days making sealed and ready for sale or barter,  therefore,  for his family,  pressing enough for a day or two has worked well.  If time allowed,  they may make enough cider to bottle in earthenware jugs and cork them,  which could then be placed in a cool but not freezing area.  Once Isaiah filled an earthenware container for their meal,  it was placed on the table alongside the dried root vegetables that Anna had picked from her garden November last and had been roasted in the wide hearth.

Sweeping the snow off the front stoop.

Placing a jug of cider on a table could have been considered a fairly remarkable thing to do for some folks,  as there were a number of eighteenth-century pioneer families in colonial America that lacked such amenities as even a dining table and chairs.  The Daggetts had both.  Samm was not just a farmer,  but a woodworker as well,  and a plain old jack-of-all-trades:  according to his own notations in his account book,  he  (among other things)...cradled oats,  dug stones,  made  (and sold/bartered)  cider,  reaped and mowed,  leased cattle,  had a loom and sold flannel cloth,  mended carts,  wheels,  and made yokes,  grew and sold tobacco,  built and sold coffins,  framed houses,  sold bushels and pecks of oats,  wheat,  corn,  and flax... They were not rich,  but they were not poor.  Sam Daggett knew the value of  "waste not-want not."

Asenath and Talitha threw a tablecloth over the table,  and,  after Anna pulled a loaf of cornbread from the hearth,  the family carried their chairs to the table.   They may have shared a few wooden and pewter utensils to serve their food into pewter bowls and maybe wooden trenchers.   A prayer of Thanks was bestowed,  then everyone began to eat.   It was an event that would have made Miss Manner's head spin.   The Daggetts ripped the meat off the bone with their dirty hands and shoved it in their mouths.   Food scraps were soon scattered across the table.   Some wilderness families had no forks,  spoons,  or individual cups or tankards,  though the Daggetts did.   The cider was passed upon request to the person who wanted a drink.   No napkins civilized the scene,  as the coarse wool that made the male britches and the dark serge of the girls'  dresses served that purpose just fine,  as did the tablecloth.   

And so,  rapidly and with gusto,  the Daggetts consumed beef,  cornmeal with butter and milk,  corn bread,  carrots,  beans,  and cider.   As the sun quickly descended,  and the long shadows outside stretched across the farm and blended with the darkness,  and as the embers glowing in the hearth turned ashen,  Anna and the girls began to clean.

Anna at the kitchen hearth?

Perhaps,  should there be a reason,  a homemade,  hand-dipped candle might be lit.

The glass from the lantern will allow the candle to glow brighter.

For folks like Samuel Daggett,  his wife,  Anna,  and their three children,  winter preparations would occur year  'round.  Piles of firewood were chopped,  cut,  and stacked throughout the year,  but it was the winter months of January and February that were considered the best time of year for woodcutting,  and the rising of the sun was often accompanied with the sound of an axe as fuel supplies were needed.  Wood chopping had multiple purposes in the wintertime:  it warmed the axeman as he chopped down the tree,  again as he cut the wood of the fallen tree into manageable pieces,  and then warmed him once again as it was burned for fuel.  The men spent long,  hard days in the woods,  sometimes hiring out help to complete such a task.  They would seek out and prepare the specific firewood needed for the many needs.  It would not only be just one variety of wood – depending on the cooking being done:  baking or frying or...there would be different varieties used for cooking food in the hearth,  such as birch,  hickory,  maple,  ash,  beech,  oak,  and elm.  As for the types of wood used for heating the home during the cold months:  given the choice,  they may have chosen oak,  black locust,  and/or maple,  should these tree varieties be accessible.  It was the hardwood that gave off the best and longest-lasting heat.

Corncobs were saved for smaller fires,  or for an extra touch of flavor in hams and bacon smoked over them.  If the fire went out,  flint and steel could spark a new one,  or a child could scamper to a neighbor and bring home a hot coal in a cook pot or a tray of green bark. 

No calling the furnace repair man.

This is how one turns up the furnace in the 1760s!

Sam and Anna keeping the warmth coming...

The clothing our 18th century ancestors wore meant everything...in fact,  their clothing was life-saving,  even while indoors.  Before heading outdoors in the bitter cold,  for there was always work to be done no matter the weather,  Sam Daggett might throw on his heavy woolen cloak over his woolen waistcoat & coat,  his heavy linen shirt,  woolen breeches,  thick wool stockings,  and may have worn a knit cap under his cocked/tricorn or flat-rimmed hat,  and maybe mitts,  all of which helped to keep him warm during the cold winter months.

Yes,  he would certainly would've dressed in layers.

His shoes or boots?
More than likely leather.  Not very warm.

Many of the items he wore would most likely have come from raw wool that Anna or his two daughters first sorted,  washed/scoured,  then picked out the dirt,  dung,  straw,  and other impurities,  hand-carded,  spun into yarn on her spinning wheel,  possibly may have dyed with natural dyes,  then knitted or possibly wove on their loom.  If the wool or linen was woven on the loom it might've then had been taken to the fulling mill,  where the cloth was cleansed to eliminate oils,  dirt, and other impurities,  and making it thicker.

Then  made into clothing.

And Sam would have been pleased to have such items to wear.

You know,  you might like to read THIS POST I put together about the complete process.  It will give a greater understanding of all the colonial family did for something we can get cheaply and take for granted. 

The snow was actually coming down harder than what this picture shows.

As I moved across the Village in the whirlwind of snow nack to my favorite house,  there was Gigi in the doorway!

"I was wondering who that crazy colonial-dressed person was out there in the snow taking pictures!"  is how she actually greeted me.

"Come on in!"

But in another time over 250 years ago:
"Welcome!
God bless me!  I hardly recognized you!"

Women’s 18th-century winter clothing relied on heavy,  insulating layers,  primarily using wool for petticoats,  gowns,  stockings,  and cloaks.  

Winter wear clothing all had to be altered and repaired after being stored away for the summer months,  while new items had to be made to replace those worn beyond repair.

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.

Methinks in comparison,  most of us here in the 21st century may be doing fairly well.  

Keep in mind that during the time Sam and Anna and their three kids lived in this house in the last half of the 1700s,  it was in a time before video games,  home computers or cell phones,  internet,  Facebook,  Instagram,  Twitter  (X),  You Tube,  Tic Toc,  I-Tunes,  Amazon,  or streaming services.  And no automobiles,  TVs,  movies,  or even photographs.  And if one runs out of food,  there was no local Circle K, or CVS party store at a moment’s drive from their front door by a motorized  (and warmed up,  pre-started)  vehicle,  even in horrible winter weather.  Such stores simply were non-existent.

Until next time,  see you in time...

I've written numerous informational blog posts about the Daggett House

HERE's the first one

Learn about this circa 1750 house,  its rooms,  and even a bit on the family who lived there. 

HERE's the second one

This post concentrates more on the everyday life of the 18th century Daggett family,  and how they lived seasonally,  including ledger entries written by Samuel Daggett himself.   It is a month-to-month post.

HERE's the third one

This post speaks on Sam Daggett's House's history before it was brought to Greenfield Village,  including plenty of photos taken from the location where it originally stood.  Included are interior shots from when it was somewhat modernized in the mid-20th century,  and a few video clips of when and how it was brought to Greenfield Village.

and HERE's a fun fourth post about the Daggett House,  centering on the well-sweep

The spirit of Samuel Daggett lives on:  this post shows presenter Roy making a Colonial well sweep in the same manner that Samuel Daggett would have done back in his day,  by way of a shave horse and draw knife.  Roy also made new firepit poles in the same manner.

So now,  with today's post,  we have a fifth.  I plan to continuously update and add to it,  like I do the others.

 .