NEWS FROM THE HILLS
Dear Cousin,
The sun has struggled valiantly to dispel the chill of this late February day, and finally this evening, the air has mellowed. The sky has been an incredible blue all day, but now layers of white, ruffled clouds are spreading across the sky.
The laying hens scratch industriously all around the chicken house, and run across the garden to search for a green spear of grass. Criss’ baby puppies yawn widely and stretch out in the sunshine to nap. Even the farm animals are glad for a sunny day.
It is time now to curl up in an easy chair and study the colorful seed catalogs that bring cheer to a cold winter day. There is nothing that can bring a longing for spring like the fruits and vegetables that are described in such a delicious fashion. Marvelous gardens are planned and executed from a comfy chair pulled close to the stove while winter’s wind is whipping outside. In the pages of these brightly illustrated catalogs, it is always summertime.
These seed catalogs have always been a sure sign of approaching spring, and are a welcome guest in country homes where interest is geared around crops, weather, and the land. Little has changed other than ordering seeds from a catalog rather than from a ragged little kid hawking seed packages from door to door.
It was in February that we kids ordered an assortment of seeds from the American Seed Company. These were chosen by the seed company and mainly consisted of vegetable seeds and a few packets of flower seeds. (Mom always ended up with the unwanted and unsold leftover seeds.)
As I stepped outside this morning and the cold, bracing wind hit me, I thought of late February days such as these when we took our garden seeds from door to door. The dirt road would be a half-frozen, mud-covered lane, rutted and sloppy. Larry in his five-buckle Arctics and paratrooper cap pulled down over his ears, and me in my snap-up galoshes and head scarf tied tightly under my chin, would hit the commerce trail.
Buoyed up by the fanciful advertisements in the Grit newspaper, we had visions of riches—radios, bicycles, cameras, and of course, money. Through mud and snow we trudged with our seed assortment gripped tightly, going from house to house. I don’t ever remember making any money (Mom probably went in the hole) but we did get a lot of experience—not all of it good, unfortunately.
I still have a salt and pepper shaker set that my baby brother Ronnie received as a prize for selling seeds. He couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years old, so this prize is more than 50 years old.
We also sold those little tin boxes of Cloverine and Rosebud salve; that sweet-smelling concoction that was wonderful on chapped hands and backs of legs rubbed raw by rubber galoshes. The salve came with a picture of two toddlers playing on a rugged bridge spanning a deep ravine with gushing water beneath. There was a shadowy, winged angel hovering over them, called the Guardian Angel.
It has been years since I’ve seen a box of Rosebud or Cloverine salve, or anxious, red-nosed young’uns knocking on the door with salve and seeds to sell.
Yes, times have changed. An allowance was unheard of when I was a kid, and we scrounged for ways to make a nickel or a dime. We delivered Grit newspapers, which was a hard job in the country where houses are few and far between. As well as I remember, we made a nickel profit on each paper, and if someone didn’t pay (which happened sometimes) there went our profit.
In the summer we could pick blackberries and sell them for fifty cents a gallon. We could do that after we had picked all Mom needed to can. Can you imagine the reaction if one of today’s children was offered a job that paid wages such as that?
We did appreciate everything we got so much more, because it was hard-earned. Children that are given everything they want with no effort on their own are generally not thankful at all. They grow up with the idea that the world owes them a living, and it comes as a rude shock when they find out differently. It may have been a hard life, but I am thankful for the lessons we learned.
There is no better way to raise children than the old-fashioned way. You can never go wrong teaching them godly principles, moral values, and plain old work ethics. Children who learn to do chores at an early age and contribute to the family unit will grow up with a sense of responsibility that will be of value all their life.
The Bible concept of raising children is still the best. “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” (Proverbs 22-6). The teaching will never leave their minds.
Hug everyone for me,
Love,
Cousin Alice Faye
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