Winters of old

Paul Carr plowing in Putney. Paul Carr photo Ca 1960s.

When I was a boy in the late 1950s, winters were much harder than today. Mountains of snow accumulated around our kitchen door entrance. Snow would slide off our slate roof. Add to that, the path we shoveled to our kitchen door. The snowbank would be 10 feet or more high.

By January, cabin fever began to set in. The world began to close in on us. January was hard on many. Bitter cold, short days, and more snow. It seemed endless.

Unlike today, very few owned four wheel drive vehicles. Mostly working men had four wheel drive rigs. The average Vermonter didn’t own such a vehicle. But we still got around. Sandbags in the trunk improved traction.

February

February could be hard, but days were getting longer. It could be 20 to 35 below zero, for days, with mountains of snow. We hunted rabbits on wooden snowshoes until March 15, when the season closed. We fished through the ice till the end of March. Both activities broke up the monotony, as well as put food on the table.

As we traveled back roads in February rabbit hunting, we noticed signs of the seasons beginning to change. It was a welcome sight when sap buckets appeared in late February. Still, the snow was crotch deep.

In those days most Chester residents knew each other. We were all in this together. Someone in town would say, “Did you hear Don Farrar is hanging sap buckets?” Word spread quickly. “A sure sign of spring,” was the general consensus. We needed to hear this.

March

March was always welcome. The sun was now much higher and days longer. You could see where the rays of the sun penetrated snowbanks. Rays from the sun would reach deep into the snowbanks creating small caverns forming stalactites when dripping melt water froze at night. You knew it wouldn’t be long now.

Buds

Dad and I noticed the buds on the tips of branches were beginning to swell. Another sign the seasons were changing. It was Maxfield Parish who best captured these colors of late winter. His paintings sometimes show purple-pinkish hues in the mountains and treetops.

Walking to school

Regardless of snow or cold we walked to school. Some mornings it was 25 below zero or snowing. Walking from High Street to the old high school was quite brisk. School was seldom cancelled. The Popple Dungeon bus would be the last bus to school if it was snowing heavy. Harold “Rapid” Rowe was the bus driver and school janitor.

Laundry

My mother had an old fashioned wringer washing machine. Ma would roll the wringer washer over to the sink, tut the clothes in, and with a hose connected to the kitchen faucet, add water to the washer tub. After 10 minutes or so, pump the dirty water from the machine into the sink, and refill the tub with fresh water to rinse. Then run the clothes through the wringer, shake a couple times and hang them on the line.

In winter our clothes froze on the line. You could literally stand up a pair of dungarees. We brought them in off the line and put them on a clothes rack over a large register. We had a coal furnace that Dad later converted to burn wood. Above the furnace, on the first floor was the large register. This heat helped dry the clothes. But there were mornings when your pants were still damp walking to school.

April

In April, when it warmed up, Dad would get his spade shovel and shovel the high snowbank near our kitchen door, out into the driveway to melt. The snowbank was well compacted. The base was now ice. Dad was not alone. Many Vermonters did this to kiss winter goodbye.

Today

Today winters are much milder and shorter. I still find myself observing the progression of winter as I previously mention. I guess it is deeply instilled in my mind. I probably notice things others wouldn’t see.

The photo with this article is from Paul Carr, as it appeared in the “Winter 1979 Vermont Life magazine. Paul plowed town roads in Putney.

This week’s old saying: “You don’t need an army behind you to be right.”

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