Month: December 2012

Working Weekend

On By kittycalashIn Living History1 Comment

https://i0.wp.com/farm9.staticflickr.com/8482/8239978492_81e339d5fe_n.jpgThis is the house at the farm museum where we went to work on Sunday. That bright orange under the window is squash. The part painted red is an office addition and not interpreted space.

This is the view from the site.https://i0.wp.com/farm9.staticflickr.com/8062/8238909459_f9165ff136_n.jpg It is not exactly what the tenant farmers would have seen, even discounting the power lines and road surface.   But even with the caveats of constant change in mind, I do not have access to a better lab for understanding the past. There are times when even the smart and sophisticated among us cannot come up with a better (just between us) interpretation than, “1799 sucked. And it was greasy.”

https://i0.wp.com/farm9.staticflickr.com/8210/8238912881_454a7e8b67_n.jpgThat’s not what we want the visitor to learn (everything in the past was hard) though sometimes I fear that is all they take away. Callie, seen here swearing in my hand, was trying to take away leftover chicken and so was taken away herself.

The more time I spend stooping to reach a vat of tallow, or tearing a chicken carcass apart with my hands and a dull, greasy knife, the more I think that what we fail to grasp is not that people thought differently in the past. It’s why they thought differently.

Lives could be a great deal smaller: tasks were hard and all-consuming. Even as I realized that work would be faster with greater familiarity, I also saw that repetition would not breed enlightenment, because increased speed would only make the next task come more quickly.

It Isn’t History Till it Hurts

On By kittycalashIn History, Living History, Museums5 Comments
End of the day, Sunday
End of the day, Sunday

That’s approximately what the costumed interpreters say their leader says.

Let me affirm for you that history does, in fact, hurt, when you are doing it right. That is to say, you will be bodily tired. You will be hungry. You will be cold. Your judgment will be impaired. Your world will shrink.

I have so many thoughts/ideas/inspirations/observations after another weekend at the farm that I do not quite know where to begin.

Yesterday, I made 290 candlewicks and draped them, with some help, over 50 sticks. My colleague and I managed to dip each stick of 6 wicks 2 or 3 times, though I had to trim the wicks after the first or second dip so they would match the depth of the kettle. Today, we got there late (thanks to my broken stay laces which had to be replaced…once replacements were found…annoying) so the fire was not hot, the wood not gathered, the tallow not melted—oh, it was not what this control freak wanted. I wanted to both make dinner and dip candles.

Well, we did manage both, in a way. Dinner was more of a snack of boiled chicken and root vegetables, followed by a snack of squash custard tart, and the candle dipping was managed only sporadically once the tallow was melted. First it was too cold, then too hot: it was a day of details. At some point I realized I was so tired that I could no longer think about a simple thing, and that what got in my way was simple lack of fluency. If I did this every day, I wouldn’t need to think about it. But I don’t. So while I can do these unfamiliar tasks, they are just a bit harder when I am cold, hungry, tired, or hurting.

Hot tip: sheepskin insoles. In wool stockings yesterday, my feet were freezing cold in the kitchen when I was not near the fire. With sheepskin insoles, my feet were warm today. Your mileage may vary, but well worth a try.