This picture was taken on the Phillips Farm around 1934. Dad is shown forking hay up to Maryland on top of the cart. Liz, our faithful mule, is hitched to the cart. Little Chum alertly waits for a mouse or rat to skittle from under the hay. Our historic home appears in the background, almost obscured by a stately cedar. Liz is the last of our mules. This hay will tide her through the winter.
The historic home in the Background was constructed by Isaac Murray circa 1780. It was beloved home from 1918 to 1941. There is much to be told about this old place and I do it on this page: Historic Phillips Home As It Appeared in 1910
The frail man with the felt hat and the long handled hay fork is my dear Dad. This generous and kind man took an orphan child, gave him his good name, and made him his own. I plan to devote a page to this great man. Here he is seen at labor, but once he was a country gentleman with a elegant carriage drawn by a thoroughbred horse. He wore tailored suits, had starched collars, and servants were at his call. His good fortune dwindled as the produce market became unprofitable and because he gave so much to others. But, he kept his genteel manner and dignity through his misfortune. Dad was an accomplished vegetable farmer. We spent many hours working together to produce and market fine crops of carrots, beets, radishes, turnips, rutabagas, tomatoes, eggplants, squash, spinach, cabbage, and cauliflower. He taught me much, gave me a sense of character, and left me cherished memories.
Maryland lived in a tenant house on our farm. He was seven years older than I, and that should place him at 23 years old in this picture. He was one of five of Hattie William's children that lived and worked on the farm at different times. Maryland was a good worker, had a bright mind, and was a pleasant companion. Dad helped him buy a Model T ford somewhere along the way, and that was a great thing, while it lasted. One day while the folks were in town, and Maryland was plowing in the field, he gave me a chaw of tobacco. I thought I was real smart, and a bit naughty, and I chewed and swallowed until I became very nauseous. When Mom returned from town with a sack of candy, they wondered why I promptly refused it. Maryland was a strong young man with muscles developed by lifting heavy things. The fertilizer was delivered in 200 lb bags. He could heave these bags into the fertilizer drill with his muscles bulging. I have watched him lift either the front or rear wheel of our Fordson tractor clear of the ground. He could load four peck baskets of tomatoes over the flam of our truck at once. In the winter, Maryland and I trapped the marsh for muskrats which he skinned and stretched on a board to dry, until the fur buyer came by.
I still remember tranquil Liz. She was a dutiful and faithful mule who labored with us to prepare the fields for produce, and to put food on our table. I have followed behind her, barefooted. many hours as we tended the fields together. In the spring, we worked long hours, and in spite of tender care, Liz would develop sores from the rubbing collar. We had to cut a hole in the collar to avoid the chafing. She was gentle and affectionate and appreciated her cup of middlings and four ears of corn after a days work. She was given all the hay that she wanted. When she was younger she would run around our barnyard, find a sand pit, and roll over and over. I cannot help but remember her in my prayers and pray that she will be in heaven when I get there.
The cart you see, is not just a cart. It is a dream come true. We had no good means of hauling wood, hay, vegetables around the farm. The wheelbarrow was hard work, and could only handle small loads. The truck, with its solid rubber tires, would quickly mire in the fields. I persuaded Dad to build us a farm cart. He knew it was a winter's job, but agreed. We located a pair of heavy caisson wheels and axle in Peck's Junkyard in Portsmouth them and brought them home. At the local saw mill we selected sturdy oak 4 x 6's for the shaves. Mr. Alvin Nuckles, had an industrial bandsaw, and was able with difficulty to rough out the shape of the shaves. Dad did the finishing work with a hatchet and drawing knife. There was a lot of hand work in building the cart. Old hardware was salvaged, the shaves were mortised, the sideboards built, and all parts assembled. What a satisfaction it was to put the cart into use. One of the early missions for the card was to travel several miles over to a farm of a Negro on Providence Road to fetch a breeding boar and transport him in a cage home for my waiting sow, Sooki.
You see a portion of an Osage Orange Hedge in the background to the right of the cart. This is the portion which flanked both sides of the lane leading up to the house. The hedge also formed an impenetrable barrier from Shell Road all the way from Hattie's house up to the Shumadine lane. In the prosperous days Dad was able to keep the entire hedge trimmed to shoulder height. But, because of the great amount of hard and expensive labor involved, we had to discontinue this practice. The Osage orange grows fast and given a little time matures into a large tree. We had an Osage orange tree in our front yard which produced many bushels of a dense pulpy fruits. The branches of the hedge grow multitudes of large thorns which make the trimmings difficult and painful to handle. In just a few years the untended hedge along Shell Road became entangled in the overhead telephone wires. The telephone company contracted Asplundt, a tree trimming company to cut the hedge back. The Asplundt crew moved in and started to work. It was more than they bargained for. Shortly the thorns made shreds of their gloves, and they were bewildered on how to pile and burn the thorny branches. I was sixteen at the time and I appeared on the scene with a couple of Dad's long handled forks, and showed them how the trimmings could be safely handled with a fork. They were so pleased that I was offered a job, which I promptly accepted. I worked with Asplundt the rest of the summer. I still smile today when I see an Asplundt crew working, and remember those days of long ago.
Ah! little Chum. That dear little terrier you see at Liz's feet was the joy of my life. She was given me as a Christmas present when I was about four years old. We fell in love immediately, and she became my constant companion till her death shortly after the picture was taken. She was a dear little girl, full of love and spirit. She slept behind the stove in our living room. We roamed the woods, and marsh together. She waited for me to come home from school and greeted me with enthusiasm. Only once did she run away, and we waited hopefully until she returned. I thank God for giving me this faithful and loving companion, and I feel sorry for those who have not had the love of a devoted pet.
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