Winter On Memory Lane

Winter On Memory Lane

Written by : Jeffrey R Hilton

Remembering winter as a youngster on a farm in South Western Ontario isn't hard to recall at all.
we had an outhouse for years before we had indoor plumbing.  It stood well behind the house at the back of the lawn with a field of wild grass behind it.  It was moved a few times over the years and maybe rebuilt a few times and got regular fresh coats of paint but it was always there.


It stood for quite awhile next to a lilac that had grown into more of a tree. Yes the fresh scent of lilacs and... Ya never mind.  In the winter and often during foul snowy weather, I would somehow end up having to go late at night. So off I would go through the kitchen grabbing my coat and down a stairs where I would throw on my winter boots and with hood up, head outside and reluctantly blaze a trail through the snow to the outhouse.  I'm sure the loud exhalation and groan from the shock of the cold seat must have raised the temperature in there by at least a few degrees.


I'd sit there freezing my butt off trying to finish my business all the while wondering if a coyote or a wolf might be waiting for me outside the door when I came out.. or no wait.. even more of a possibility.. A skunk ! Waiting to spray me.  You see where I'm going with this ? After the call of nature, I would get ready and then bolt out of there like I stole something back to the house in a sprint Ben Johnson would of been proud of.

Our farm was right on the city limits so maybe I could say it was at the beginning of the country. It bordered on two roads, one a highway. The main driveway, approximately a quarter mile in length to the house, was on the highway and at the end of this driveway standing right there shining like gold in my kid vision was a Mom and Pop store. Translation, Candy Store !


We had two other lane-ways into the farm along the other road as well and about the same in length.  The owners of this store, good old Mr Brown and his wife Mrs. Brown got to know me like one of their own. Besides that, I was probably their best customer and probably helped put their kids through college.  Man if they would of had air miles back then !


Because the farm bordered on two roads I quickly learned that people had no qualms about littering back then. This worked out great for me though, as they would always include pop bottles thrown from their cars into our  fields along these roads. Everyday I would walk these borders and collect the pop bottles by the dozens sometimes. Of course they were taken to the store,  where they were traded for serious needs like 2 cent boodle bags of mixed candy,   pop, ice cream or chocolate.
This hobby slowed right down in the winter months as the bottles got covered over with snow quickly where they would multiply and wait for me in the spring.


We used to get some pretty serious snow storms back then at least two or three times each winter including Ontario's famous ice storms that encase everything in thick ice bringing branches and trees and power lines down. Making drivers wince as they try to break through the ice barrier between them and the inside of their cars and yet other drivers on the road swerve as big whole sheets of ice shaped liked a car hood and or a roof or trunk, break off and land in front of your car.


These storms caused a lot of havoc on our farm as we had a lot of trees including hundred year old pines, maples, birch, willows and orchard trees.
When I woke up and looked out the window and saw nothing but snow drifts for miles, I knew it was going to be another true,  Snow Day.  No school ! Yippee.  The school bus to my school,   further into the country down the road from us had little and no chance of even getting to the road.  This would incur a rash of activity on the farm.


Aside from the usual dairy-farm duties; It would take until afternoon before our tractor with a  blade,  would have the main drive cleared out to the highway. Paths were shoveled from the big side veranda across the driveway past the washing stand and through the grass to the incinerator barrel. This was usually my job.  Doors and walks were cleared and cars dug out that were not kept in the 4 car carport.  The front of this carport was shoveled. trees and branches if any came down were cleared.


Grandma always came out at some point to empty and spread the ashes from the wood stove onto the driveway.
Snow tunnels were built and forts and never ending trails of silly maze like foot paths that wended through the virgin snowy lawns and.  Fields were explored where animal tracks appeared,  they were followed.  Sometimes I would come upon a bloody scene of a grisly murder of a rabbit and stop to ponder the few bits of flesh, bone and bloody white fur that was all that was left of the rabbit.  A vast sea of white before me.I would trudge through and sometimes over snowdrifts past my waist like a lost arctic explorer. tramping through the woods in it's eerie chilling silence.


We used to walk to the nearby corner to catch our school bus.  On this corner there stood two gas stations, a little truck stop diner called the,   Do-Drop-Inn,  and a welding shop I think.  One of the gas stations was owned by a lad we were friends with and went on the bus together.  Of course there was a lot of horsing around there waiting for the bus.  My older cousin one winters day,  dared me to put my tongue on a metal railing on a stairs where my tongue promptly got stuck to the metal and I invariably ripped a good piece of my tongue skin off pulling away when I realized my tongue was glued to the rail. I didn't like that much !  Of course I soon got my younger brothers to share in the joy of this ritual.

At the time I had no idea about these matters.I was the oldest. I always ended up learning things the hard way.
There was for most of the winter the biggest icicles you ever saw hanging down all around our big farm house.Most were way up high and out of reach. that never stopped me from trying to poke some down with a long pole and try to catch them and capture them intact. Some looked liked swords which is probably why I wanted them. They fell on their own often with a huge crash and smash like glass breaking. How all of us never got killed by one of these falling on us,  I don't know. Big pieces of slate from our black slate roof were constantly raining down in any high winds as well.


My earliest memories of hockey on skates was that there was a pond in the woods behind our little country school where kids played hockey.The first time I remember going, I hooked up with some older boys and started playing pickup hockey.This was great fun.right up until the time I got past two older boys and made a break for their net with the puck. Just as I was about to take the shot I felt an incredible pain as one of the other guys had thrown his stick at me and split the back of my head open.i got my skates off and by the time I walked the two miles back to the farm I  had quite a jammy looking head. No problem. A few stitches.


See what I mean ? Good days; Bad days ! and with that ; I bid you a good day and night.

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Jeffrey R Hilton