Life on the prairie was a rugged experience and many little things we now take for granted were serious problems…or at least proved to be major discomforts.
The Rural Electric Cooperative had run power lines to most of the farms in 1948, but reliability was a problem. Power outages were common during storms and even though the repair crews got around in a snowmobile-like machine called a Weasel, they seldom ventured out in the midst of severe storms to repair lines. Even if they could find the downed line, it was dangerous to work outside for very long. Fortunately, most houses were not dependent on electricity for heat, but the task of pumping water to a hundred thirsty cows became an exhausting chore when the electricity was out and you had to pump by hand. Lighting was also an issue, since kerosene lamps and gas lantern light was an inefficient, smelly substitute for electric lights.
Our heat came from a coal-fired furnace that could function without electricity, so freezing to death wasn’t a worry. As I recall, my greatest discomfort came from the need to use the outhouse! By the time you dressed to make the 100-foot trek up and over snow banks, and then shoveled the snow away from the outhouse door so it could be opened, it was easy to forget the purpose of your visit!
Not everything about a blizzard was bad, at least for kids. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of crystal clear moonlit nights after the winds stopped, and the fresh snow lay untouched. On those nights, we loved playing outside, despite the intense cold that always followed a blizzard.
One year, a storm left us with a long sledding track behind our one-room school, which was located about a half-mile from our house. During the school day, we’d spend the entire lunch period sliding, and maybe downing a frigid jelly sandwich between runs. After school, we hauled water from melted snow to ice the track and make it faster.
One night when all the cousins got together, we decided to try night sledding on our new track. With hurricane lanterns spaced along the course lighting the way, we played in the snow for hours. The thermometer indicated well below zero, and the dry, cold snow creaked and groaned under our rubber overshoes as we trudged up the hill pulling our sleds behind. The exercise kept our bodies warm, but as we made our way back uphill, we’d stop and hold our hands over the kerosene-burning lamps to warm them. The smell of burning kerosene and singed wool mittens is one of those smells I can’t forget.
Even the wildlife appeared to celebrate the end of a storm by leaving the protection of brush and trees to play in the snow. Occasionally, light from a full moon and the billowing curtains of Northern Lights, lighted the prairie nearly as bright as mid-day. On those rare nights you would often see a dozen or more white-tailed jackrabbits playing tag on the frozen lake, slipping and sliding on the ice like a bunch of kids. For some reason, they seemed to lose their fear of humans at night, and we could get within a few yards of them before they ran from us.
Snow-blocked roads may have prevented our going into town for entertainment, but we did our best to compensate by spending time with neighbors and relatives. Families often got together during the evening to play cards and visit. Sometimes we took the tractor or a horse-drawn hay wagon when visiting more distant neighbors, but we could easily walk to my grandparent’s and uncle’s houses, despite deep snowdrifts across the road.
I especially enjoyed visiting my uncle’s farm because my cousins were there to play with, and they owned a hand-cranked ice cream maker! While the adults were visiting and playing bridge or whist, we kids would take turns cranking out delicious ice cream made with sweet cream fresh from the separator. It didn’t make any difference that it was below zero outside…we loved homemade ice cream! The kids had the job of keeping the outside tub of the machine filled with snow, and cranking the handle until the ice cream was done. Then the metal container had to sit in a snow bank for at least a half-hour to firm the ice cream. That was the hardest part…waiting for the ice cream to cure.
Blizzards still howl across the northern prairies, but life is infinitely easier, thanks to modern technology. Emergency generators, four-wheel drive trucks, snowmobiles, cell phones, better roads and efficient snowplows mitigate some of the danger, yet every year we hear of someone freezing to death in a storm. Nature has no mercy on fools and the unprepared. Even here in Texas, when winter weather arrives, I don’t travel unless I have a heavy coat, a cap and gloves in the car. Old habits die hard.
I wouldn’t trade the experience of growing up in that frigid country for anything. I still love the state, but now that I have a choice, I’ll take the more moderate winters of East Texas, thank you!
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