I wasn’t sure what to expect since this is listed as a part of the Little House on the Prairie series, but it does not involve the same family. In fact, it is all about life on a farm in “upstate” New York. I thought I knew a little about farming. I’ve been on farms; I’ve plowed fields (with a tractor). I seen how dairy farms operate and how baby pigs are “prepped” for the market. I had little idea how (when 90% of all Americans lived the rural farm life) difficult and chancy life was and how self-sufficient each farm had to be.
The focus of the book is on the youngest member of the family, Almanzo. His daily life: school; chores; family time; and special events. For others, this may be disconcerting or even boring. For me, it was a delight to take such a deep dive into how rural life was carried on in mid-nineteenth century America.
There are far more details here than in the other “Little House” books. That was part of my delight as was my growing understanding of how little “spare time” there was on a 19th century farm. Another part was the personal growth of 9 year-old Almanzo during the year covered in this book.
Below are some of the details
"Mother was making soft-soap, too. All the winter’s ashes had been saved in a barrel; now water was poured over them, and lye was dripping out of a little hole in the bottom of the barrel. Mother measured the lye into a caldron, and added pork rinds and all the waste pork fat and beef fat that she had been saving all winter. The caldron boiled, and the lye and the fat made soap."
"But when they were all tucked under the buffalo-skin robes, with hot bricks at their feet, Father let the prancing horses go, and Almanzo forgot everything else."
"For a long time they talked and argued. Shining tinware and piles of rags were all over the porch. For every pile of rags that Nick Brown added to the big pile, Mother asked more tinware than he wanted to trade her. They were both having a good time, joking and laughing and trading.”
"Snow was falling next morning when Almanzo rode with Father to the timber lot. Large feathery flakes made a veil over everything, and if you were alone and held your breath and listened, you could hear the soft, tiny sound of their falling. Father and Almanzo tramped through the falling snow in the woods, looking for straight, small oaks. When they found one, Father chopped it down. He chopped off all the limbs, and Almanzo piled them up neatly. Then they loaded the small logs on the bobsled. After that they looked for two small crooked trees to make curved runners. They must be five inches through, and six feet tall before they began to curve. It was hard to find them. In the whole timber lot there were no two trees alike. “You wouldn’t find two alike in the whole world, son,” Father said. “Not even two blades of grass are the same. Everything is different from everything else, if you look at it.”"
"All winter long, on stormy nights, there would be threshing to do. When the wheat was threshed, there would be the oats, the beans, the Canada peas. There was plenty of grain to feed the stock, plenty of wheat and rye to take to the mill for flour. Almanzo had harrowed the fields, he had helped in the harvest, and now he was threshing."