Transcriptions, shared with permission

A few pages from the ledger.

Names have been softened where asked. Spelling is kept as written. Marginalia is included when it seemed too good to leave out.

From the Book of the T— family

Mar 14  Plowed south piece. Ground still cold. Mule balky.
Mar 18  Corn in. 3 bu saved from last.
Mar 22  Rain all night. Creek up to the lower fence.
Mar 23  Rain. No field work. Fixed the harness.
Mar 29  Baby girl born to J. and E. Named Ruth.
Apr 02  Corn up in patches. Rabbits bad this year.
Apr 11  Set out sixteen tomato. Mother's slips.
Apr 19  First rhubarb. Stewed it.
Apr 24  Traded a setting of eggs for half bushel of seed pot.
May 03  Lilac out. Lost a hen to something — fox most like.
    

The Ruth born on March 29, 1947 is, almost certainly, the same Ruth Elwood whose passing started this project. We didn't know that when we first opened the book. Mrs. T— did. She smiled and didn't tell us until we got to that page.

From the Book of the H— family

Jun 09  River up 2 ft over Tuesday. Moved cows to the ridge.
Jun 10  Still rising. Barn floor wet.
Jun 11  Rising. Took the chickens to the porch.
Jun 12  River over the road. Lost the garden. Mama cried once.
Jun 13  Crest at 24.3 ft per the gauge on Sorrel Mill bridge.
Jun 15  Starting to drop. Mud everywhere a person can stand.
Jun 16  Snake in the kitchen. Out the back door directly.
Jun 20  Neighbors came to dig out the smokehouse. Fed them cornbread.
Jul 04  Bottom still won't take a plow. Will be a late year.
    

The '73 flood is in four of the books we've read so far — the H—, the T—, the Sorrel, and one anonymous. Each family remembers a slightly different crest. We're making a composite map, pinning each note on a contour line and seeing where the stories meet.

From the Book of the M— family

Oct 02  Hogs to market. Good price — .22 a lb.
Oct 04  Put up 14 qts tomato.
Oct 08  First frost on the low ground. None on the hill.
Oct 12  Church supper. Took two pies.
Oct 19  Killed a snake in the corn crib. Long as my arm.
Oct 24  Apples picked. The russet tree bare, the greening heavy.
Oct 28  Settled up with Mr. B. Owed him half a day. Paid in sausage.
Nov 05  First real cold. Banked the house.
    

Taped inside the back cover, on a piece of feed-sack paper: a recipe for persimmon pudding in a firm pencil hand. We have not transcribed the recipe out of respect — it's the family's, and they'd like to keep it. (See the kitchen pages for recipes we have been given leave to share.)

From the Book of a family who asked not to be named

Jan 03  Cold. Very cold. Pump froze.
Jan 04  Cold. Burned the old fence rails.
Jan 07  Flour down to the bottom of the barrel.
Jan 09  Brother came with a side of bacon. God bless him.
Jan 14  Warmer. Thank the Lord.
Jan 22  Trade: a setting of eggs for a pound of lard. Even.
    

A hard winter in a hard year. The family asked that the book be returned quietly and that no photographs be shared. We include these few lines because they gave their blessing for "just a little — so folks know we made it through."

From the Book of the Sorrel family

1962  Grafted 4 onto the old wild tree by the lane. 2 took.
1963  Russet heavy. Greening light. Baldwins middling.
1964  Late frost May 8. Lost most of the bloom.
1965  Nothing to speak of. Borer in the two south rows.
1966  Pruned hard. Paid the boy two dollars for the day.
1967  Good year. Cider pressed Oct 14. 23 gal.
1968  The old tree finally gave out. Took it down Oct 30.
       Saved a length of the trunk for the mantle.
    

The "old wild tree by the lane" is, per Jody's best guess, a chance seedling that predates the Sorrel orchard proper — likely eighty or ninety years old when it came down. The mantle is still in the house, over the parlor stove. You can see a knot in it shaped like a fish.

More pages, when we have them

We add to this list when a family gives us the nod. There's no schedule. If something on this page touches a memory for you — a flood, a name, a field you used to know — we'd love to hear about it through the usual channels. (Which is to say: through a neighbor. See getting word to us.)