Winter

~ A collection of notations from wintertime past~

The 1750 Daggett Saltbox House

WINTER STORM WARNING! 

cautions the scroll along the bottom of your TV set.

YOUR WINTER SURVIVAL STATION! 

declares the radio news station. 

POWER OUTAGES THROUGHOUT THE METRO AREA! 

screams the newspaper headlines.

~~~~~~~(don't you just love the media?)~~~~~~~

The weather outside is frightful: the temperatures are well below freezing, the wind is howling at your door, the snow is coming down at a blizzard pace.  That's not a very pleasant thought, is it?  Maybe not to some, but it is winter above the Mason-Dixon line. And it's really not so bad. Honest. How do I know? Well, read on...  Now, have you ever given any real thought to how the people many of us attempt to emulate during our reenactments survived the bitter cold dark winters in days of old? I have, and so I combed through a few of my books and magazines to see if it was as tough as I had heard. In most cases it was far worse than I imagined.

Folks, I’m here to tell you we ain’t got nothin’ on our ancestors. What they had to live through each day of every winter and what they did to survive the bitter cold and snow in the pre-electric era makes everyone of us look like wimps. And compared to them, we certainly are!
 

Come, journey with me to a cold winter's night a long, long time ago...(The Ackley Covered Bridge in Greenfield Village)

Wintertime in the pre-electric era brought in discomfort and dread to most in the United States, especially to those living in New England, the mid-west, and the plains areas. To begin with, darkness reigned, for one must remember the gradual decrease in daylight hours becoming more noticeable in late October to well into the first couple months of the new year, and during those few weeks from mid-December until early January there was only nine or so hours of daylight, leaving the remaining 15 hours in darkness. And the winter months are generally the cloudiest: in some areas in the mid-west, only 30 to 40 percent of the winter months had actual sunshine - talk about the bleak mid-winter!  Grey skies, darkness, and snow...with no electricity.

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

"But, things haven't changed, Ken," you tell me, "it's still cold and dark here in our 21st century winters!"   You are quite right. Except for one thing: we have modern conveniences. You are cozy toasty in your home with the forced-air furnace blowing warmth throughout each room, the airtight windows ensuring it does not escape. Light at the flick of a switch staves off the winter darkness. With help from the radio, ipod, or CD collection, along with the hundreds of cable channels – as well as a decent quantity of DVD's – your entertainment is almost limitless. The internet can take you “to infinity and beyond” at the click of a mouse, either on your home computer, laptop, or even on your cell phone.  Then there's skype to allow you to "visit" nearly anyone without leaving the comfort of your house. And if you run out of food, the local Circle K, CVS, or Rite Aid party stores are only a moment’s drive from your front door by a motorized (and warmed up) vehicle, even in this horrible winter weather.  Yes, let it snow...modern technology has rescued you from fear of freezing and solitude. 

A cold and lonely walk to your darkened home. I hope your lucifers are easily accessible.

But, what if you should lose power? What then?  I find it amusing that if the only light and heat comes from candles and fireplaces because of a power outage at your house, it is frustrating and annoying - but when it comes in the form of intimate tours of a 19th-century village, it is charming and peaceful.
(A quote from Old Sturbridge Village).

An outage would mean no TV, no computer, no music, no electric lights or even any electricity at all...oh my gosh! - - what now?   It's as primitive as can be! Oh, how will we survive the winter months? Isn't this so true for the greater majority of us? I know it would be for me, for I have no fireplace...well, no real fireplace (it's an electric one) - to even give off a bit of warmth should we lose power. I could survive without the neat little electronics - I have actual books to read, not a Kindl - but a power outage certainly would be more than unpleasant, if only for a lack of a heat source. 

A cozy winter's eve (Giddings House - Greenfield Village)

But flickering candles and the soft glow of oil lamps arouse an inner warmth, giving solace to the weary winter traveler. Up until the mid-19th century, it was the candle that provided the artificial lighting for most, with the gradual increase in the use of the oil lamp in the latter half, though candles were still in popular use well into the 20th century. Levi Hutchins, on a cold winter evening in 1810, remained at his brother's home instead of returning to his own home due to the "social circle of my brother's household, cheered by the mingled light of the bright woodfire and his domestic tallow-candles, caused so much happiness that I was induced to postpone our return till morning."

Our own sung fireside on a non-electric January evening. Even in a room with two oil lamps and two candles, darkness still reigned.

With darkness king of the 24 hour day, it dictated daily activities. Buried in nighttime blackness reduced the once family-sized home into a single room in many cases, for many families closed off the parlors to decrease the amount of warming space.  With a dim glow, life centered around the hearth or stove for warmth and possibly a candle or oil lamp for any of the limited activities of which they may have partaken. This low level of lighting - oil or candle - created only pockets of brightness, leaving most of the room in darkness.  Forget about the Hollywood movies showing people enjoying a pleasant winter's eve reading by candlelight or oil lamp - I've tried and it's pretty darn difficult to do for any length of time. As Laura Wirt wrote in 1818, "writing by a dim firelight. I can scarcely see." And Frederick Law Olmstead, in 1853, was chastised by the servant when he asked for a candle so that he might write a letter (I am quoting it here the way it was originally written): "Not if you hab a fire," the servant told him. "Can't you see by da light of da fire? When a gentleman hab a fire in his room, dey don't count he wants no mo' light 'n dat."   This attitude was not unusual for it was a great luxury to have candles for many people. George Channing recalled his youth in Rhode Island where "little children were obliged to find their way to bed in the dark."

I could see fairly well with my two lit oil lamps as I wrote a letter at my desk, but you can see I was surrounded by the darkness

Yes, there was reading, writing, sewing, mending, and other necessities done as best as one could by such low light, but on these long winter nights there was also socializing, singing, storytelling, bible recitations, family history lore, and other ways to pass the time. The glow of the hearth was sufficient enough for any of these activities, thus saving on candles and fuel. Emily Barnes tells of her grandmother telling stories, and "how eagerly we sought our places in the sitting room around the low-cushioned chair, which was placed in the warmest corner, the room all aglow with the bright, blazing fire. 'There is no need to light the candles,' she would say; and we were glad to avoid the interruption  occasioned by snuffing them, especially when so unfortunate to snuff them out." (Snuffing in the old days meant to trim the wick rather than putting out the flame as we know it to mean today.) 

My daughter attempts to read a book by lamp and candle light.

 It was in this clustered manner that the family ensured survival. However, that did not mean they were warm:  “A forest of logs, heaped up and burning in the great chimney, could not warm the other side of the kitchen. Aunt Lois, standing with her back so near the blaze as to be uncomfortably warm, found her dish towel freezing in her hand.”

The warmth of the kitchen hearth...the freezing blackness all around. (Daggett Farmhouse in Greenfield Village)

 Winter-wear stockings, flannels, double-layered gowns, petticoats, shirts, trousers, and jackets all had to be altered and repaired after being stored away for the summer months; 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.
 

Another photo from the Daggett Farm House

 Many would cover their front doors with blankets to keep out the cold.
Sleeping with another person was a way to generate warmth in the bed chamber. From earliest childhood, our ancestors had slept together – infants with their parents, then with their siblings, cousins, or even friends, and then with apprentices, or domestic help of the same sex. So used to sleeping with others that sleeping partners were often sought out.

An upstairs bedroom at Firestone Farm in Greenfield Village. Note the warming stove.

William Davis recalled that “fires in chambers were, in my day, far from being universal, (and I) never slept in a heated chamber, except when sick, until sixteen years of age.”

Harriet Beecher Stowe remembered her Aunt Lois setting a candle in their room and “admiring the forest of glittering frost-work which had been made by our breath freezing upon the threads of the blanket.”
Using a long-handled brass warming pan filled with the hot coals from the hearth was one way to warm a bed before slipping in. It would be placed between the sheets and rubbed along the length of the bed quickly and steadily, as to not spill the burning coals. In this manner the bed would become sufficiently warm enough to climb in.

But not everyone had this sort of warming luxury, for Mrs. Stowe recalled a family taking their leave to "bed-chambers that never knew a fire, where the very sheets and blankets seemed so full of stinging cold air that they made one's fingers tingle; and where, after getting into bed, there was a prolonged shiver, until one's own internal heat-giving economy had warmed through the whole icy mass."

Mrs. Stowe also warned that “whoever touched a door-latch incautiously in the early morning received a skinning bit from Jack Frost,” while Harriet Martineau recalled those winter mornings when even with a good hot coal fire in her chamber stove “everything you touch seems to blister your fingers with cold.” James Stuart found it “difficult to preserve the body in sufficient warmth, even wrapped in two suits of clothes, and everyone kept on stockings and flannel garments during the night." 

"The ink froze in my pen in lifting it to the paper from an ink-horn, placed within the fender in front of a good fire." - James Stuart (Daggett Farmhouse in Greenfield Village)

On the 19^th of December 1856, Caroline Dustan wrote, “Water in Mamma’s and my wash bowl freezing thick as half a dollar.” Thomas Chaplin wrote in January 1857, “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.”

Now that’s cold!

It was unfortunate for the woman who attempted to do her daily chores such as spinning, for this necessary activity required ample amount of floor space and nimble fingers. There are numerous diary entries that tell of the difficulty in performing this task inside a crowded room with frozen fingers.  On the plus side, because of radiant heat of an active central chimney, the temperature in many attic spaces remained above freezing. According to the author of Our Own Snug Fireside, meal, flour, and dried foodstuffs such as corn, apples, pumpkins, and herbs - normally kept in cellars - could sometimes be safely stored in attics as well regardless of how cold it became. That is, as long as the heat was sufficient enough, for especially root vegetables such as carrots, beets, and potatoes would be damaged by extreme cold.

Currier & Ives "The Snow Storm" 1864

Small tin and wood foot stoves filled with an iron plate of glowing coals were used in both the parlor or for traveling. These little warmers were considered a woman’s stove, or an “effeminate luxury.” In 1819, Theodore Dwight declared his toes “comfortably bitten, which excited much sympathy: & I came near suffering the indignity of having a girl with gold beads offer me a stove.”

I can't imagine a man putting his feet upon such an effeminate luxury as a foot stove!

Winter, by the way, was the best time to travel; the roads and paths were usually covered with snow, and that made it easy to glide over the smooth surface. Folks traveled in sleighs, cutters, and carioles, most of which had jingling bells attached to warn the pedestrians, who were bundled up head to toe and could not hear beyond the higher pitched ringing, to move out of the way since the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves were muffled due to the snow.  Instead of plowing the snow out of the way, as we do in our modern day, snow rollers packed it down. They rolled the roads, covering the bare spots so that sleighs could get through, and if they came to a covered bridge or an area cleared of the white stuff, they would shovel a layer of snow onto the bridge floor or the bare area so that the sleigh runners wouldn't stick. In a sense, however, traveling to town or to visit by way of carriage could also be a great discomfort without the luxury of heat, though a foot stove would make it a bit more bearable, at least for the lady. Let's imagine, now, that you and your family, who are twenty first century people, suddenly find yourselves in a carriage in, say, January 1860. Since you unwillingly time-traveled to this era, this is a first ride for everyone. It's a tight squeeze, barely room for the four of you. Though everyone is dressed warmly, and the lady of the house also has a blanket to cover her lap as well as a wood-framed metal foot warmer filled with hot coals at her feet, she is still shivering, for the inside of the carriage is every bit as cold as the teen temperature outside. 

Winter travel could be quite arduous in the days before the automobile. Of course, it's still no picnic driving on snow-covered ground in our modern day!

It will not be a long jaunt that you are taking, just enough to get a feel for period travel.

With a resounding “Hyaah!” from the driver, the two horses pull forward with a lurch, enough to shake the passengers a bit, physically as well as mentally. But, as you roll onto the road, everyone relaxes and settles in. In fact, as nerves calm, your family may even take great pleasure in the ride. If one had ever sat in an old truck as it bumped down a rocky path with no heat or shock-absorbers, one can envision the reality of a carriage ride on a rutted road in the winter, the snow crunching below the wheels. And it is a slow ride, hardly faster than a brisk walk. From inside the buggy, giggles and laughter abound in this new adventure. Though many carriages have glass windows in the doors, there are none in this one - only leather flaps that do little to help keep the weather out. 

When you finally arrive at your destination, the driver of the carriage asks, “How was it?”

“Cold,” the woman replies, even with her extra blanket and foot warmer. “And it was jerkier than I thought it would be.”

“It was bumpy!” the young daughter exclaims. “I thought it was cool,” says your teenage son, though his definition not meant to be the meaning of a low temperature. “I don’t know if I could handle a ride like this for too long,” you yourself mention. The driver is astounded at what he was hearing. “Have you folks never ridden in a carriage before?” Just imagine...

Victorians had their fun, too: "In much merriment the sleighing party is made up to dash along with chiming bells and song and laughter. An upset now and then is counted in with the amusements of the day, so that no one is hurt, and who ever is? by a fall into a yielding snowbank!" (Currier & Ives "A Spill Out on the Snow" 1870)

(From the diary of Samuel Cormany): January 14, 1861 - Sleighing is fine - "Charlie" the horse is a very fleet-footed little fellow, and my cutter is very light, about 100 lbs, and with a Buffalo Robe under me and another over me, and fur gloves - zero weather is not to be dreaded at all.
And here is the rarely sung third verse of "One Horse Open Sleigh" from 1857 (better known now as Jingle Bells):

A day or two ago, The story I must tell

I went out on the snow, And on my back I fell;

A gent was riding by In a one-horse open sleigh,

He laughed as there I sprawling lie, But quickly drove away.

No horse, carriage or sleigh? Well, one could always walk to their destination...

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 January was the month that the cellar was to be replenished with apples and late-season vegetables, packed in sawdust or sand. Pigs had to be killed, sausages made, and barrels of pork and ham put down. Pies were baked in large quantity to be kept frozen in the storeroom, the garrett, the guest chamber, or the closed –up parlor. Maria Church, on January 22, 1854, was happy to note that she “now completed all the winter jobs of sausages, pork, putting down hams, making candles, & mince pies.”

After a bit of rest from the arduous labor of the planting, growing, and harvest seasons, the Monday following 12^th Night (or Epiphany – January 6), known as Plow Monday, was the traditional signal to begin another work year. It was on Plow Monday that the farmer began to get all of his farm equipment into tip-top shape for the growing season.

Winter time in the country (Firestone Farm in Greenfield Village)

 The winter months of January and February 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 a dual purpose in the wintertime: it warmed the axeman as it was being chopped and warmed him 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 cut and prepare specific firewood for the many needs such as for cooking, warming, and laundry.

The amount of wood needed was impressive: a large family recorded in a journal that they burned forty four cords of wood within a one year period in a house with seven  fireplaces, a bake oven, and two chimney’s. Another family documented burning “twenty seven cords, two feet of wood” between May 3, 1826 and May 4, 1827.  One impoverished woman mentioned that she endured a Boston winter on twelve cords of wood “as we kept but one fire except on extraordinary occasions.”  Abigail Adams burned forty to fifty cords a year “as we are obliged to keep six fires constantly & occasionally more.”

We’re coming up to ice-cutting season, that time of year where those with the means to will head out to the frozen lakes, ponds, and rivers to cut blocks of ice to be used for the storage of meat during the warmer seasons of the year. 

Cutting blocks of ice from the river (Currier & Ives - "Winter in the Country: Getting Ice" 1864)

The previous year’s sawdust, old and pungent-smelling, was shoveled out and used for fertilizer and replaced with a new five-inch base in preparation for the coming year. The roads leading to and from the lakes, rivers, and streams saw teams of horses, oxen, and mules hauling blocks of ice.

One of the late winter traditions was maple sugaring time. No American season is more definite than sugaring time. The right time is usually between late February/early March through early April when the sap is flowing properly. The nights are still cold enough to freeze sharply and the days warm enough to thaw freely. The thermometer must not rise above forty degrees by day, nor sink below 24 degrees at night. It is this magic see-sawing between winter and spring that decides the sugaring season. But I won't go any deeper into this family and community affair here in this posting, for it is covered further in the Zap! You Are Now in 1862, and it's Spring! What Do You Do Now? post I wrote previously. But I thought it worth a mention due to the over-lapping between winter and spring activities.

Trekking to the house from the barn. Maybe they were maple sugaring...? (Historic Waterloo Farm in Waterloo, Michigan)

This winter, when the wind howls at your door and you keep your thermostat to an oh-so-cool 66 degrees, when you feel boredom creep up on you, and your bed sheets feel cold against your body, and even when you must venture out to the local store a couple blocks away, fighting the slippery ice and snow covered streets the entire way, remember how your 18th or 19^th century self would have dealt with the months of January and February. That should warm you up a bit!