The Heirloom Orchardist

You're Never Too Old to Plant an Orchard!

Nowadays, with the availability of dwarf and semi dwarf trees, we think nothing of setting out a small orchard and expect fruit within a few years.

This wasn’t the case for The Heirloom Orchardist.  To him, an orchard was an investment.  The site was chosen wisely, and the trees were planted carefully.  Of course The Heirloom Orchardist wanted to benefit from his efforts, but he was also thinking of the many generations of Orchardists that would follow.  His trees took a while to get to a bearing age.

Does this mean that an elderly Orchardist might have thought twice about investing his limited time to planting a new fruit grove?  Perhaps.  Thomas Close, of Port Chester, NY felt strongly against that sort of thinking.  So strongly, that he wrote to the editor of The Cultivator, on January 3rd, 1846.  His comments were published in April of that year:

“Nothing is more common than to hear a man at the very period of his life when he is best capable of doing the thing well - from 50 to 60 - excusing himself from putting out fruit trees upon the plea that he is too old to be benefited by it.  The two following instances will show at how late a period of life a fondness for the cultivation of fruit has been practically manifested, and at how much later a period of life has been prolonged, as if in reward of the deed.”

“An aged lady, in the adjoining town of Greenwich, not many years ago, planted a peach in her one hundredth year, and lived to eat the first fruit the tree produced.  The Rev. Mr. Cobb, of Braintree, Mass., set out an orchard at the advanced age of 77, and was laughed at by his neighbors, who were much too wise to plant frees for posterity - he lived thirty years afterwards.  These it will be admitted are extreme cases, and yet many not very dissimilar ones could easily be collected, were due justice done to the scattered individual enterprise of the nation.”

Indeed.  Thomas Close was right!  Plant a fruit tree!  If not for your descendants, than do it for yourself!

The Outburst of Spring - "Laugh and be fat"

The apple blossoms have come early this year.  There’s not much that makes The Heirloom Orchardist feel more joyful.  I kinda feel like the child that finds the Easter Bunny’s stash a few days before Easter.

But I shouldn’t feel guilty.  This is they way it’s supposed to be when the apple blossoms are here.  This is the way it’s always been.

Henry F. French felt it.  In 1852, he was so overcome by “The Outburst of Spring” that he had to write his thoughts down (as I’m doing now).

“Somebody says that Spring in New England may be defined as a leap from Winter to Summer, and verily, the space between the sublime and the ridiculous is not shorter than the disjunctive conjunction between good sleighing and apple-blossoms in New Hampshire.”  I’d like to know who that somebody was … probably Henry himself.

That’s the way it comes.  February and March seem so very long as I’m making my way through Winter.  Then, all of a sudden, boom!  (Should I say “bloom?)  Spring is here.

Thank goodness, Henry and I are not the only crazy Orchardists out there feeling it.  The Editors of Appleton’s Journal felt it too, in June of 1869:

“The apple-orchard in bloom is a part of our most domestic experience and of our gentlest human sentiments.  It is a part of the best memories of home.  Every man in his boyhood has had his perfect moment under apple-blossoms.”

And the editor of Harper’s Monthly felt it, in May 1884:

“This is something like it.  A shower of apple blossoms.”

So, even though it’s come early, don’t feel guilty.  I enjoy it.  As Henry F. French said,  “The true measure of time – The force and vigor of the farmer’s character (is) developed in the Spring – Agriculture is cheerful – “Laugh and be fat””

Culture of the Soil for Women

The other day, I posted a comment on our Facebook page, published by Andrew Jackson Downing.  Mr. Downing was a landscape designer, horticulturalist, and writer.  During the years 1846 through 1852, he was the editor of The Horticulturalist and Journal of Rural Art.  In 1869, he stated the following:

“We have often repeated the assertion that, if a woman has only a chance, it would be a pleasure to cultivate fruits or flowers for a livelihood, sooner than be held in irredeemable bondage to the needle.”

Hmm…wow…"irredeemable bondage to the needle."  His words are supportive, but sound somewhat patronizing in today’s context.

My discovery of Downing’s comment got me thinking about the transformation of the female role on the farm.  It seems to have become a really big issue in the early 1900’s, when two historic events came together:  the women’s suffrage movement, and World War I (then known as the Great War).  Sure, the suffrage movement was focused on obtaining the female vote, but it was founded on ability.

With “our boys” off fighting in World War I, we had a shortage of male farm labor.  So, it was a perfect opportunity for women to step forward and demonstrate how able they are.

And step forward, they did.  Consider Mrs. Jean Kane Foulke, who is mentioned in the April 1918 issue of The Farm Journal as being “the successful manager of three farms.”  Her opinion on the matter is quoted:

"I can see no reason why a woman who is physically and mentally mature should not with perfect propriety help in any of the affairs connected with farming.  But the women undertaking it should go to it seriously minded, and with a dignity of purpose that will protect both themselves and the men with whom they are working under all circumstances.  It is not work for young girls, who are not sufficiently developed to do heavy work anywhere or mature enough to realize their responsibility.”

“It is beyond me to understand how women who are proud and willing to send our men 'over there' to face what all of them must, should hesitate as to the fitness of women to do hard work or rough work, or any work there is to be done that women can do which may help the men to victory.”

“There are thousands of women who, like myself, have faced death to become the mothers of men, and who feel as I do that unless the women of the country are willing to do the farm work which must be done, famine is knocking at our door.”

Oh, boy.  She played the childbirth card.  That pretty much trumps everything.  It’ll get any male editor to choose his words carefully when stating an opinion on the matter.  In the same issue of the Farm Journal, the Editor responds accordingly:

“Our own humble opinion … is that mature, healthy, strong women can without harm to themselves do many kinds of farm work - by using judgment and not overdoing.  One thing is sure:  We must all - men and women - work or deny ourselves as we never did before, or Freedom's bell will soon cease to ring in America.”

Oh boy.  “Freedom’s bell will soon cease to ring.”  Another trump card.

Churning Butter; James and Lena McKenney of Readfield, Maine

Recently, I read some comments online about the frustrations of modern day internet access.  The writer was complaining that since her farm was located in a rural area of the country, her internet access was by dial-up service.  What takes only seconds for me to see loaded onto my screen, would take hours for her to see…if she had the patience.

Once technology is readily available and accepted into one’s life, it’s easy to take it for granted.  At this moment in 2012, while you read these words, there are plenty of internet users in rural areas of the United States that will never bother to read The Heirloom Orchardist, simply because the top banner takes too long to load.

It got me thinking about the lives of James and Lena McKenney.*  Because although they lived in the 20th century (albeit barely), I imagine they lived a pretty simple farming life.  In all likelihood, they lived without a basic modern day extravagance: electricity.

Hey, electricity was available in 1912!  Yup, you’re right, it was.  But as with today’s fiber-optic internet access, the availability of electricity was focused mostly on urban areas.  One hundred years ago, rural areas were (as they say), “shitoutta luck”.

Take a look at this:  As late as 1925, the August issue of Popular Mechanics Magazine published an article on the country's push to bring electricty to farming areas, stating:  “Electricity on farms is being tried out in eight states, with at least four more preparing to fall in line.  The electrified farm, however, is merely an experimental laboratory…”

So, with this in mind, let’s look at what James and Lena were doing one hundred years ago this week:

April 1
Mon. 1  Fair We churned this Morn.
I cut wood to day Charlie
horse got kiced to night
Tues. 2  Stormy I cut wood to day
Lena and Mrs. Heath went
to Augusta to day carried
down 10 lbs. Butter got 3.00

So, a portion of James’s and Lena’s income came from the sale of the butter they produced.  I’d like to take a look at butter churning, because here’s an example of where electricity really made a farmer’s life easier, and more productive.

There’s a lot of science that goes into making butter, and 1912 wasn’t too early to know something of it.  In fact, in 1913, only a year after James and Lena were churning, the US Department of Agriculture published a much-too-thick book on the topic.  I’m being presumptuous, but I’ll bet James and Lena couldn’t apply information such as:  “Table 3. - Effect of sodium chloride and cold storage (0° F., - 18° C.) upon the activity of galactose in buttermilk.”

Along with technology came methods to control variables.  And that’s where electricity and butter churning come together.  Making butter requires mechanical agitation, an activity that causes the butter fat to stick together into large clumps.  Wouldn’t you think controlled, uniform agitation could result in a predictable product?  You bet.  How ‘bout refrigeration?  Don’t you think that could help with making flavorful butter?

In 1918, six years after James and Lena were churning butter, we find the following published in the The New International Encylopeadia:  "The labor of churning has been very greatly decreased in the modern churn, and forms have been made in which dog power, horse power, and steam power are employed.  The power churns, of immense size, are usually employed in creameries.”

Hey, what about electrical power?  The New International Encyclopeadia of 1918 didn’t even mention electricity as a power source!  That’s because for most 1912 American farmers, like James and Lena, electricity simply wasn’t available.

So, how did James and Lena churn their butter?  Well, they churned manually.  The same year that James and Lena were churning, the Dazey Company was selling an all-metal hand churn, which held up to 16 gallons of cream!

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*One hundred years ago, James McKenney lived and farmed with (his wife?) Lena, in Readfield, Maine.  I'm fortunate to have found his ledger at a flea market.  Occasionally, we’ll look back at James's notes to see what he and Lena were up to, one hundred years ago.