A recent family visit brought back memories of trips to "Great Grandma Roberts" farm in Mukwanago, Wisconsin. It was located somewhere northwest of Milwaukee near West Bend. Follow me now! My Dad's mother was Myrna Andrews (whose maiden name was Roberts). Myrna's parents were John and Mary Roberts of Mukwanago, Wisconsin. So I traveled many times from Plymouth, Wisconsin with my Dad and Myrna to visit the "old homestead". It was wierd because as we approached the farm property, we had to turn onto an old country road with rutty grooves and grass growing between the tire ruts. It was hard to see the farm house from the road. So we would traverse through a field on the rutty road. And then, you would begin driving through a second field on another rutty road and finally pull up to a square two story farm house (I think it had a slate outside) that was getting old and weathered. Most trips occurred when I was between 8-14 years old.
These were obligatory trips. John and Mary Roberts still had milk cows and Myrna's younger brother, Evertt lived with his parents. Evertt had contracted parkinson's disease at age 20 and his muscle control slowly deteriorated over time. He would hold his right arm in front of him waist high and it would continually shake. As a kid, it is hard to understand the full impact of the disease. I think Evertt lived into his 40's.
A day on the farm was "old people" sitting around talking about the old days. The kitchen had a wood stove so there was a constant smell of burnt wood and ashes (something like a dirty fireplace). There always seemed to be something good to eat. I remember bread. The smell of baking bread. There were porches on all sides of the farm house with rocking chairs.
Chickens were always prancing around the yard. Lots of black and white speckled chickens. I'm sure many graced the wood burning kitchen stove.
Milk cows were in the fields. To keep me busy, they would send me out to bring in the cows for evening milking. It wasn't a big deal. Open a fence gate to let the cows find their own way back to the barn. My memory of the hilly cow pasture is vivid.
There was a rickety old windmill not far from the house. I don't know if it was for electricty or pumping water. It had a metal ladder that I remember scaling a couple times.
For a kid, a day on the farm was kind of boring but it was a look back a a simpler life. It was filled with simple values. Hard work. Respect. Patience. Imagine that!
My Dad's brother Bob recently mentioned that he and Bucky would go down to the farm for part of each summer. I'm sure his "take" on the farm is much different than mine with much more insight. My peek into days gone by were a privlege and as I've gotten older, I appreciate the experience of a day in Mukwanago.
Love,
Dad