WNFGA News

From The National President Faith Tiberio

“O wind…If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”

It is that thought from Shelly which excites, prods and urges us all towards our annual meeting in June.  The Ipswich Clam Company is in place with an enticing “Down East” menu to be served under a billowing white tent in Sherborn, Massachusetts. Arrangements have also been made to tour Garden in the Woods, a world famous native plant sanctuary. Wildflowers galore…our June 13th tour through Garden in the Woods will finish with an afternoon tea.

Workshops are being scheduled to both educate and entertain.  There will even be a workshop on “How to prepare your memory for our book.” Using myself as an example, I am hoping to offer a short story from my farming past. No doubt much to the chagrin of my two sisters.

You have to cheer our very own Kathy Beveridge and her staff for the ever more gorgeous, readable and useful magazine format. Thank you so much Kathy! You have made our magazine the BEST!!!!

On the subject of bees…..our members have been reporting in and receiving their special bee pins. Our congratulations to Mary Van Falkenberg, a member of the Harbor Beach Branch in Michigan, Mary is our first bee-keeper. She is planning to enter several contests to promote her branch.  I am hoping others will be as concerned and as ambitious as Mary towards this serious threat to our food supply.  For those with computers, the Haagen – Daz Company has a delightful and informative site http://www.helpthehoneybees.com and press kit.

There has been a lot in the papers recently about the disappearance of barns in our rural countryside. Old (and valuable as part of the cultural landscape and as a source of much sought after beams and “barn board”) they are falling into disrepair and falling victim to misuse.  Developers and used lumber dealers pounce on them and over night they vanish. Fortunately, Vermont has become alarmed at the situation.  Steps are being taken in Vermont to bring misuse and abuse of the barns to a halt. Perhaps all of us should take time to look around, particularly in rural areas to identify and check on barns that may be endangered.  What if Ambler’s famous barn of 1914 was to disappear?

Speaking of Ambler, Hazel Herring continues to work with her committee on our greenhouse project. I know everyone is supporting her to the extent possible.  This is the most important project we have!!

Sylvia Anderson has done an outstanding job representing us at CWC and keeping us informed, particularly in the area of world wide concerns.  It is interesting to note how Claudia Scioly’s interest in school agricultural programs is now being echoed everywhere. School children need to plan and prepare edible, local vegetable crops.

So…poet Shelly…When Winter comes, we’ll plan to plant, prosper & play

Can Spring be far behind??

Daffodils say NO.  Won’t you?

A Book!  A Book!  A Book!

Dear Members,

The following story is a sample only. Your stories can be about any memory
of some activity in the past which is being forgotten and fits into our Farm and
Garden interests.

                        Liniment Larkin’s Second Rinse

Now, Aunt Florence wasn’t crazy by any means. She simply fancied that by twirling around three  times in something of an arabesque pattern she could ward off whatever things she feared might overtake her. She did it at the alter when she married into the family and Grandfather had difficulty with it; but whatever it was it seemed very disconcerting to infrequent callers.

One of these callers was a Watkins’s liniment salesman named Larkin, nicknamed by all the farmers around “Old Liniment”. Aunt Florence simply terrified him, and her nervous habit always seemed to catch him unprepared. The first time they met, he offered her a sample of Watkins’s
vanilla and instead of taking it, she twirled around the dinning room table the designated three times and finally quite dizzy , fell into an ebony and leather platform rocker, and looking up at him, said what help is that on wash day?
 
He put the vanilla back in his beaten up suitcase and fled. He didn’t come back for months and if the horses required salve, he took the trouble to ask “Central” if she thought Aunt Florence was on the main party line or if she could be anywhere near the horse barn.

For a period of time the horses all remained in good health, and thanks to Franklin Roosevelt
“Rural Electrification” came to our farm. The road still unpaved, was gloriously studded with poles festooned with electrical wires, inside our kitchen Grandmother still used kerosene lamps;
“Will” she said, “Electricity isn’t natural”! Grandfather said “Elizabeth please try. It will make washing on Monday so much easier for you and the rest of the woman folk”.

A huge Easy copper washing machine stood in the kitchen, in front of the De Laval milk separator. The men read the instructions, dutifully plugged the cord into a wall receptacle
and went about getting hot water from the wood stove. Several kettles later, Grandfather
added cups of lye soap from the stash of homemade soap curing in the cool storeroom.

When Grandmother brought out the wooden paddles they used to beat the clothes in the tubs, Grandfather said, “You won’t need those. The machine does that for you”.
“Look” Grandfather said. He turned and pushed the button”!

Grandmother cowered in the corner, “It’s not natural”, she reported “We’re going to catch fire.”
But at that moment, the big copper arms that looked like inverted bowls, began to churn up and down, with a might swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. Soap bubble rose to the top the tub.

Grandmother and Aunt Florence approached cautiously. Aunt Florence wide eyed, began twirling faster and faster.

Grandmother said “It isn’t going to explode?”  Grandfather said “No.”

She said “Will you put the big sheets in then?”

Grandfather silently put the sheets in and put the copper lid on firmly. “Saves Heat” he said.
The fact was that an alarming amount of soapy bubbles frothed over the edge of the tub.
Grandfather was no fool. He immediately installed a galvanized steel tub under the washing machine as it churned away. He left then, to go do chores.

Aunt Florence and Grandmother stared at one another, and in a few minutes, hot soapy water began draining into the tub. It was at that precise moment, Liniment Larkin came into the kitchen
carrying his worn suitcase of Watkins’s wares. “You didn’t hear me knock” he said awkwardly.
Grandmother eyed him as if he had been a stray cow meandering into the sacred rites of “Wash Day”, a new “Electrical Machine Wash Day”.

Aunt Florence knew disaster when she saw it. She had been mesmerized by the hot soapy water pouring mysteriously from the gleaming copper tub. She glanced distractedly at Liniment Larkin. She perceived immediately that he was not a stray cow in the kitchen, but an infrequent caller who intruded into the washday rites. It called for intensive twirling. She twirled intensively
and careened into Liniment. He toppled, sample case and all, into the tub. Beautiful soapy bubbles splashed everywhere, spreading rivulets of water all over the kitchen floor under the plant stand in the bay window, threatening the pink oleander plant, under the wood stove, into the chimney corners and around the milk separator and towards the electrical socket.

Grandfather rushed into the room and jerked the cord from the socket and with a single sigh, the electrical motor stopped. But Aunt Florence completed her third twirl, and fell into the galvanized tub on top of Larkin.

What he said would have made anyone want to wash his mouth out with soap. But the rural Electrification Project and FDR did it on the spot. As the water continued to discharge everywhere, Aunt Florence pulled herself away from an even wetter Larkin.

Grandfather said “Florence, I don’t want to see you spin around like that again.”

Aunt Florence, in point of fact, never twirled again. We children thought something of character had been lost.

With great effect, Larkin got his long dripping trouser legs out of the washing tub and stood up. I guess you don’t need any soap power, he said.

Grandmother said “Look at my floor.” Grandfather said “Woman. Be still.”
It was the only time in 40 years of marriage any of us ever heard Grandfather rebuke his beloved Elizabeth. Her mouth opened and her mouth closed.

After that, Grandmother looked at Liniment Larkin, not only was the poor man wet, he was so soapy. Little bubbles moved about his coat and trousers, oozed from his pockets, would blink as bubbles do before they break. They would vanish and another wave of soapy water seemed to sweep over him.

It was too much for Grandfather. He laughed and laughed so more.

In the end, everyone helped mop up the kitchen and the floor was shiny and clean everywhere. The copper washing machine stood waiting until my mother arrived with her special knowledge of how this electrical machine worked.

I can still hear Grandfather Will laughing and the sound of Liniment Larkin’s shoes squishing out of the kitchen and down the driveway.

Rural Electrification had indeed come to our farm. 
[For more information on A Book! A Book! A Book! see the Fall 2008 issue of Farm & Garden]