This is probably a good place in my life story to reminisce about life on the Nolan farm in my formative years, sometime between four years and eleven when we moved to the 80.  I suppose these were some of the happiest years of my life.  I felt so secure and loved, as long as my parents were near I felt so safe in my small world!

A typical day began when my father got up, started a fire in the kitchen range, put the tea kettle on - that was the extent of his ability to cook - and went out to start the chores.  He fed the horses and pigs and came in for breakfast.  By this time Mamma had the table set and breakfast ready.  The first sound I remember hearing early in the morning was the coffee grinder, which hung on the kitchen wall.  I believe the older siblings were called to eat with my parents but I slept as long as I wanted.  Always there was oatmeal, it tasted good with sugar and the thick separated cream.  I may have paid for that in later years! I don't remember much about other food for breakfast.  I know when we went to Aunt Em's (Papa's sister) she cooked a complete meal for breakfast- meat, potatoes, vegetables, etc. So I assume Papa was raised having that kind of breakfast. I don't believe Mamma cooked that way.  After breakfast everyone went to work, each one having special chores. Papa and the older children again milked and separated the milk.  There were household chores to be done, making beds, sweeping, dusting, washing dishes and the separator.  The chickens had to be fed and watered and turned out in the yard, free to go wherever they pleased.  As I grew older these house hold chores were what I liked to do - especially the ones that involved keeping the house clean.  Papa often said, "Alice is always scratching around with a broom."  The field work in season was done by Papa aided by the older girls until Floyd (my brother) was old enough.  All four of my sisters could do field work, driving horses and handling plows, cultivators, hay wagons, etc.  Not me, I was scared stiff of horses although I admired them from a distance.  I thought they were beautiful and was awed by their strength.  Two horses I remember was a team - Mount and Dobbin - Mount died after we moved to the 80.  Dobbin died in the barn that burned at the 80.  Both were very old when they died.  Mount was black - Dobbin gray.

Mamma took care of the garden and strawberry patch.  We helped her some but the majority of planting, weeding and harvesting was done by her.  A neighbor - a maiden lady by name Vivian Clark came one day to get some strawberry plants to reset.  She brought, and filled, a tub with plants.  Then said, "If I'd known you had so many I'd have brought another tub!"  There were several members of the Clark family.  One of the boys, Leo, tried to date me but I didn't like him.  I'm ahead of my story; the strawberry bed was on the 80.

Papa grew the potatoes at the end of a field of corn.  And such potatoes!  When it was time to plant he prepared the rows by digging a shallow strip so the potatoes could be barely covered.  Then we all cut up potatoes left from the previous year.  We had to be careful that each piece had several eyes.  It was best to let these dry a few days.  Next step was to walk along the prepared rows and drop in 2 or 3 pieces of potato about 8 inches apart.  Then Papa carefully covered them and it was up to nature from then on.  The weeds were kept out by cultivating them along with the corn.  When harvesting time came it was a family affair.  The only time the kids were allowed to stay home from school was the day the potatoes were dug.  We took a lumber wagon to the field, Papa plowed the potatoes up with a team and plow, Mamma and my 4 sisters, my brother and I - soon as I was old enough - walked down the rows with pails.  When they were full we dumped them in the wagon.  At the end of the day there were bushels and bushels of potatoes!  These were not put in the cave but my father dug, what he called a potato pit for them.  I don't remember how he did it but the soil in Plymouth County was such that a hole dug did not cave in.

One of the chores I could help with was gathering the eggs.  The Hardersons, a neighbor family with a German background called it picking the eggs.  We though that uproariously funny!  There were nests in the chicken house as well as roosts where the chickens spent the night, their toes clasped tightly around the slats.  It was quite a sight to see them as they slept.  They went to roost at the first sign of darkness and the roosters crowed, waking the hens and everything else - including people - at the first dim light in early morning.  Sometimes before the chickens realized they had a house to sleep in, they flew up into trees and were ready to spend the night with feet fast around a tree limb.  Then we had to pull them, squawking and beating us with their wings, from the trees and carry them to the chicken house.  Chickens were an important asset to the family budget.  The eggs, which we didn’t use, were traded for groceries and of course some of the young roosters were eaten.  Occasionally some of them were sold. I liked to eat them but hid when they were killed!  I also liked to help gather the eggs.  Each nest would have several eggs in it.  I used to wonder how they knew to take turns using the nest.  Two hens were never seen on one nest.  After laying several eggs the maternal instinct overcomes a hen and she protects the nest she is on refusing to give up the eggs with out a fight.  She clucks and pecks with her bill almost taking a bite out of the arm of anyone trying to get the eggs.  Sometimes Mamma would give such a hen 12 or 13 eggs, put a covering over the nest so other hens couldn't bother her and in 21 days the eggs would hatch..  First would come a pecking sound, then a crack would appear in the shell and several hours later a tired, wet chick would be in the nest. It very soon turned to a fluffy, lively, yellow chick.  Brooding hens - that's what they are called - that Mamma didn't want to set were put into a wire pen for several days until the maternal yearning left them.