By Mildred Hetland

On the farm you had no need for an alarm clock as the rooster crow told you the sun was rising and so should you.  The neighbor's roosters also chimed in.  If that didn't awaken you, the sound of coffee being ground would.  Breakfast was the start of the day, then outdoors to call the cows in for milking.  You always knew what time the neighbors did their morning chores when you heard "come boss," "come boss" echo through the valley.

Smoke from the neighboring homes that towered into the sky from their chimneys told the weather forecast.  If the smoke went straight up into the sky, it meant pleasant weather; if it came back to the ground, it means unpleasant weather and it seemed as though this proved true.

Gathering kindling wood to have ready for starting a fire in the range (every evening event), carrying in coal and carrying out ashes, carrying the water from the well to the house and carrying it out before the garbage pail ran over - all chores to be done.  We really appreciated water when it came running by itself from a faucet and running out by itself into a sewer system.  Heating flat irons on coal or kerosene ranges to iron basketfulls of dampened ironing - Oh! Those starched white shirts! (How we appreciate the electric iron and polyester knits.)

The day electricity came to the area, imagine the thrill of putting on that switch for the first time that lit up the whole room.  The kerosene lamps and lanterns were washed up and filled with kerosene for the last time, only to be used for emergencies.  We get surprised looks from our grandchildren when we demonstrate their use.

Metal scrubbing boards used for washing clothes were worn down from use and were uncomfortable on the hands.  The bar soap used to clean the clothes (Fels, Naptha, a popular one), clothes were hung out and froze on lines in winter, taken in and hung on clothes racks or lines in the house to dry.

Tea kettles steaming on the coal ranges, coffee pot pushed back on coal stoves, more grounds in it then coffee as both water and coffee added to the pot as used.  The first electric range, and the first refrigerator - no more running up and down basement stairs for cream, butter, milk and eggs.  No more meat canning, the treat of having ice cream at home.  Ice cream cones didn't seem such a treat in town now, as in the past.  The nickel ice cream cones on Saturday evenings, play day in Cooperstown, about the only time we saw the town.  This was a special day - the schools all had floats and our school did win prizes several times.

Saturday evenings merchants in all surrounding towns kept their businesses open until 10-11 o'clock.  Farmers brought in their produce to buy up groceries for the next week, the men did a little side walk farming, and the women exchanged their past weeks accomplishments.  First they picked up the cream checks and did their marketing.  When unpacking the groceries, there was usually a surprise bag of candy thrown in by the merchants for the children.

The tedious chore of washing up the cream separator every day; the only way to get out of the task was to get rid of the cows, which took years before we could survive without them.

Seeing a mother hen come proudly out of the bushes, weeds or wherever she had her nest hid; she would have about six or seven chicks following her.  When it rained she would have them tucked under her wings and also during the night to protect them from animals and keep them warm.  The incubator in use, turning the eggs and keeping them warm until hatching time - we were always on hand to watch the chicks peck their way out of the shell and sometimes we would help them along.

The smell of freshly plowed earth, running behind barefooted in the cool furrows while dad was plowing with horses; running to pick up a special rock or flower before he plowed it under; sometimes we would move a bird's nest to safer ground.

Discovering all kinds of wild flowers in the hay meadows, roadside and ditches; we always took time to stop and pick the beautiful tiger lilies, daisies, buttercups and others.

The smell of new mown hay as it was put into the barns with slings; many loads were put there for winter feeding.  Sweet clover and alfalfa had their special aroma.

The crocuses were the first flowers in the spring and were plentiful in the pastures and meadows; they were the first bouquet to enter the house and the lilacs were always on hand and plentiful for graduation.  And the wild strawberries - Oh, so good!

Church bells ringing in the new year.  Every new years eve the family would go outside at 12 o'clock to listen to the bells.  It seemed so special! Mother saying, "wonder what the new year will bring."

Evenings spent outdoors with the family; a favorite pastime on summer evenings was catching fire flies and putting them in jars (haven't seen one for years).  Hearing Tom Larson play his accordion from his porch about a mile away.  Our dad would do the same thing (1 can still hear Kan Du Glimmer Gamle Norge); they were both from Norway.

The day the news came over the radio, "Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor" and the sick feeling for all the families involved.  The happier news when the announcement came the war was over.

Families and loved ones that kept listening for the names announced over the radio who were returning to the United States; remembering the happy face of our hired girl as she heard her boy friend's name mentioned.

My mother's day gift from the family in 1975; cleaning and scraping oily dirt off the front lawn (took two days) after the January 11, 1975, snirt storm that left 4-5 inches of dirt all over.  No way could the grass come through or perennials, tulips and others grow.

Lambs playing follow the leader, running up and down hills.  Where did the mother cat hide those newborn kittens - waiting for their eyes to open so we could play with them.  Days spent picking chokecherries and June berries (the picnic we packed for the day was enjoyed more by the children than helping pick them by the pails full).  Coming home with wood ticks and sunburn.

The gorgeous harvest moon in the fall, casting shadows over golden stubbles of harvested grain or fall cultivated land or corn still to be harvested, a satisfying feeling to know the fall work was finished, then a winter of rest.  To hope for just a little better year or whatever was in store for the next seeding and harvest.

To wake up in the morning to the sound of a crow (not the most loved bird), but the first sign of spring.  Soon the meadowlarks and others would follow.  My favorite was the morning dove, they have so much to say and say it so soothing.

Sitting out on the porch on a beautiful quiet spring evening.  Soon the songs of the frogs - now you know the frost is out of the ground when they awaken.  Spring coming to life, waiting for snowbanks to disappear so the tulips and other plants can burst through the ground.  Favorite teachers never forgotten (Edna LaPlante, Mrs. Anderson), Christmas programs in our country schools, carnivals, pie socials.  My first pie social I was a new bride and hadn't tested the recipe.  Anyway, I felt sorry for the guy that purchased it (bid my husband up as he was a little short of cash) as we had to eat it with a spoon.

The last day of school picnics were always special.  It would be a special treat of a drum of ice cream from our teacher or a neighborhood picnic in Watne's grove.  I remember the one time our teacher and the pupils (our first train ride) rode the train from Binford to McHenry and back to Binford.  We all walked to Binford and back to the school house.

The first radio getting the sound and power from a storage battery.  The phonographs with the tubular records wound by hand.  The day my dad was mowing the yard and the team of horses stopped, refusing to go another step.  He got off the mower and discovered my little brother asleep in the grass ahead of the horses.  Dad picked him up and carried him to the house.

The house parties on weekends held in different homes.  The coal range was moved out of the kitchen and also the tables, chairs and cabinets; rolled up the linoleum, waxed the wood floor and danced until morning by the music of whoever had the talent.  (Charles Hetland, Alfred Hetland, Earl Watne, Hattie Lien.) A pot luck lunch at midnight.

Harvest became fun times when we purchased our first combine - 1950; the family doing all the harvest alone after many years of hired help shocking grain and threshing by machine with a crew of men to feed and house.

The picnics at Red Willow Lake; the well and pump where you waited your turn to drink out of the tin cup.  Having to gather everyone up to begin the journey back home, early always as chores awaited.

Relatives from the cities complaining about the roads they had to drive on to get to our farm; wiping dust off their cars inside and out from dirt roads with no gravel.  In the spring, they were impossible.  Many a time, we had to get the horses ready and pull out vehicles stuck in the mud, day and night.

Source:  Hannaford Area History North Dakota Centennial 1889 - 1989 Page 264