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Memories of Golde Dicks Markham (1996) Golde Markham Dicks 11/125

In October and November, returning home from school, I could smell the dying
vegetation burning. Pa practically raked the fields. He put the debris on the fire with the iron-
tooth rake. He burned off whole fields of cornstalks, corncobs, and dead weeds. Finally the
farmers began to learn to harrow this vegetation. A harrow cut and chopped it all up, then

the farmer could take a big plow and plow this vegetation under the soil to rot. This method
enriches the soil instead of taking nourishment from the soil. By the time the farmer gets all
of his fields “broke up”—that’s how they refer to getting the land fixed for planting—it is

time to plant.
Thanksgiving was no holiday for us. Yes, we had the day off from school, but we
whined to no avail when Pa set that day aside to dig yams which we called “sweet potatoes.”

Pa stored the potatoes in banks of dirt using pine straw to line the holes and pine bark for the
roof. They would keep for a year stored like this. We kids always had our fun—whatever the
farm chores.

Going to Lake City was always a big treat, and I had the impression that it was a
happy day for Ma and Pa, too. We had to get up early in the morning. During the cold

months, Pa started a big fire in the fireplace and then went to the lot to feed and water the
mules. Ma placed a brick in the fireplace to get red hot while she fixed our breakfast. Pa’s
fire in the kitchen stove would be hot by that time.

She washed the grits, sliced1 the bacon, shoulder, or whatever other kind of meat was
available, and put it into the frying pan with a lid over it. She fixed the coffee pot the night
before. After breakfast, Pa hitched the horse to the buggy or wagon, whichever one we

needed to bring back the supplies. Ma took a burlap bag—we called them “croaker bags”
made of jute or hemp-^-wet the bag, and then wrapped it around the hot brick. She put the

wrapped brick on the floor of the buggy or wagon. We kept our feet warm on this brick. The
bag didn’t bum the soles of our shoes because it was wet.
We usually left home right around daybreak. It was a beautiful sight to see the sun

come up over the tree tops on a crisp, cold morning. Little ponds would have a silver coating
of ice. Weeds would crack or burst open and their juice would freeze and form icicles and

balls of ice. When the sun shined on them, the woods sparkled and glittered with the white
frost covering the ground and vegetation. The roads were all dirt—and anything but straight.

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