Most of these stories are remembrances from my Dad. A few of them I was able to corroborate with Grandma or Grandpa. All are as accurate as a pair (Dad’s and mine) of ancient memories can make them. . . .

1. No refrigeration. On the Vaubel place (1929-1940ish) there was no electricity OR plumbing. Dad said that old Dan Vaubel (the landlord, and still around as a character in Washington when I was a boy) wouldn’t pay to have power brought into the house even when it ran down the road in front of them. No electricity, no refrigeration. I asked Grandma one time how they got by without it. She said ‘well, that was what we knew, because we grew up that way, so we didn’t really think too much about it. Vegetables and beef we canned, pork we salted (ham and bacon), and chickens we killed as we needed them’. She said Grandpa really loved the taste of canned beef, and that she always ‘put some up’ for him every year even after they had refrigeration. I’ve never had any. . . .have any of you? So, according to my Dad, one day a cow got out of the fence while Grandpa was chopping wood. He got mad, and flung the axe at the cow. The razor sharp axe caught the cow in the rear leg, cut the femoral artery, and the cow fell dead soon thereafter. Grandma and Grandpa were up all night ‘processing’ and canning the cow before the meat spoiled. Grandpa was known to muse in his old age (I can remember him frequently denigrating his younger self on other issues) “If I had it to do over, I wouldn’t throw the axe at that cow”.
2. The skunk. One day Grandpa was using a horse drawn sickle bar mower to cut hay when the mower cut off a live skunk’s leg. The skunk did what skunks do. . .turned around and blasted the threat with one of nature’s worse smells. Our grandfather got nailed good, and spent 3 days in the barn before he reentered society. My Dad remembered bringing his meals out to him. Sorry, I never heard whether they used tomato juice to clean him up, or if they just waited for the smell do dissipate.
3. Belgium horses. Our grandfather farmed with horses all the way to the eve of WWII. He had a Fordson tractor, which he only used for plowing. When it broke, he got another team of horses instead of having the tractor fixed. I asked him why he didn’t fix the tractor. . . . .He said “because I figured the horses were standing in the stall eating whether I worked them or not, so I just worked them” The logic escapes me, but I really think it was because it was inconceivable for him to actually REPLACE the horses with a tractor, so he replaced the tractor with horses. My Dad was in love with those Belgiums. One of my favorite pictures of him was taken when I temporarily housed a pair of them at my place for a friend. . . .the look of rapture on Dad’s face (he would have been past 80 at the time) while he petted one of his dear old friends was priceless. Dad said that his father (our grandfather) wasn’t much with mechanical stuff, but he was a genius with horses. He could make them do anything he wanted them to do. My Dad never got over the day they were sold at auction when Grandma and Grandpa moved off of the farm. I’m guessing Grandpa felt the same way. . . . .