The Farm At Frost Corner: An Humble Path

By Virginia Taylor

If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpected in common hours.

--Henry David Thoreau

Inspired by a love of her life, this book brings the reader into the lifestyle and inner workings of The Farm At Frost Corner through the eyes and heart of it's proprietor, caregiver, owner/operator, author, and mother to the entire farm, Virginia Taylor.

These are Virginia's first solo writings sure to find the "Thoreau" in each of us. She describes in a wonderfully light way, the trials and rewards of running a farm, raising animals and children alike, and she's open enough to share that life with readers of this book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798886546118

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The Farm At Frost Corner

An Humble Path

Virginia Taylor

Copyright © 2023 Virginia Taylor

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

Published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88654-606-4 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88654-611-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Acknowledgment

Introduction To The Author:

My Farm At Frost Corner—The Beginning

Mud Season

Rose—My First Cow

George And Martha

Tim Blanchette

Extra Calves

When Mrs. O'Brien Came To Live Here

Easter At The Farm At Frost Corner

Scotch Eggs

Stuffed Eggs

Hot Cross Buns

Brown Bread

Asparagus Soup

Making Butter—It's Just What We Do

Honey Butter

Phoebe The Farm Manager

It's Hard To Plant The Garden When Chickens Are On The Loose

Buttermilk Pound Cake

Mother's Day Cake:

Poppy—My Companion

The Emotional Side Of Splitting Rocks

The Best Cottage Pudding—Bar None

Maple Cottage Pudding

The Thing About Mike

Grace

Our Lilac Bushes

Board Meeting

Vanilla Ice Cream

I Buy Hay From Ben Bean

Gardens—Ah, The Gardens

Yellow Tomato Conserve

Tomato Marmalade

Fresh Tomato Soup

Dilled Green Tomatoes

Tomato Fritters

Carrot Pudding

Rhubarb Dumplings

Sunshine Sponge

Mayonnaise

Yellow Mustard

Dijon Mustard

Ketchup

Cucumber Ketchup

Cranberry Ketchup

Watermelon Rind

Shrub

It's Going To Take Some Time

Lazarus, The Rooster

Herb Biscuits

Parsley Butter

Onion Pie

Howland Homestead Ariel, Or As I Call Her, Jane

Rocking Chairs—Merely Salvation To Me

Miss Smith's Third Grade Class Makes Popcorn

Caramel Corn

New Hampshire Crossroads Thanksgiving Show

The Menu

Hearth Bread

Pumpkin Soup

Baked Celery

Marlborough Pie

Lovage—It Tastes Like Celery

Scented Leaf Rolls—Lovage Leaves

Herb Dumplings

The Little Rabbit

Working Hands

Biscuits

The Yankee Teamsters And Ox Tail Soup

Ox Tail Soup

How Long Have Water Balloons Been Around?

Ham Croquettes And Raisin Sauce

Raisin Sauce

Gingerbread

Yes, We Prepare Our Geese And Turkeys For The Freezer—At Least, We Used To

Molasses Pumpkin Pie

Baked Apples

Matt—My Son—My Computer Expert

We Made Pizza—Beginning To End—And Never Left The Farm

Pip Was Making Apple Butter

My Very Favorite Wool Socks

Potato Bannock

Fried Cornmeal Mush

Sometimes It's Handy Knowing About Oxen

Pickled Tongue

Our Front Hall

The Old Green Jacket

The Geese Are Pets, Pure And Simple

Christmas And Cookies

Gram's Christmas Cake

Eggnog From The Farm

Cocoons

Macaroon Tarts

Meringue Mint Cookies

Shortbread

The Little Fir Tree

The Farm At Frost Corner—I Am Living A Dream

Because she walks an humble path,

should not that path have flowers?

—Unknown author

Acknowledgment

My cousin, Pam LaCon, is my friend, computer whiz and teamster, without whom this work would still be a pile of handwritten, yellow legal sized pages.

Thank you, Pam

Introduction To The Author:

My life has taken some unexpected turns. What most people perceive as a normal, conventional way of living just wasn't what life held for me. The first thirteen years of my life were spent in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, being normal. I ended up at a small homestead farm in New Hampshire, at peace.

Years working in the living history field, focusing on the early 19th century moved me towards the realization that a homestead life, a life nearly free of the modern day hustle and bustle could be a real life for me and my family.

Some would call it a simple life. In truth, it's anything but simple. However, I can tell you, living as I do has been more rewarding than almost anything I've ever done. The exception? Raising my four children.

Throughout this life's journey I have discovered that there are others, quite a few it seems, who share this desire/need to live as I do or at least to learn some of the skills our forebears used to help them live self-sufficient, self-reliant lives.

I have lectured and given workshops and demonstrations throughout New Hampshire to share some knowledge of and contentment with living life as it was lived in an earlier time—as I still live it on our family farm, The Farm At Frost Corner.

This book is in essence a very personal look at what it takes to step back using the lessons of an earlier time and live a dream.

I am a mother first, a farmer second. I am also a keeper of the old ways.

My Farm At Frost Corner—The Beginning

My house drew me to it years ago before I even knew it existed. When I was a young mother, life really just beginning, a picture on a calendar showed me this place. Well, not this exact place, but one so much like it that I still marvel sometimes how life works out. I saved that calendar picture thinking, Someday I'd like to have a house like that. I saved the whole calendar, in fact. It's upstairs somewhere.

Maybe it shouldn't have come as a surprise, then, so many years later when I needed new roots for myself and my children, that I saw a picture of this house, my house, in a real estate advertisement. I was hooked. Here was the place I'd dreamed about. Some would say coveted. But, I'm not willing to go that far—maybe close though.

To be sure, this old place had been used hard. It had already lived a full life and showed definite signs of wear and tear. We had a lot in common. We were both in need of repair, inside and out.

Looking back, I can't remember being afraid or even worried about moving my children into this house. Others were and they tried to help me see the downside of living in a house like this. It would be a lot of work, they said, and they were right. The sky was visible right through the roof from the first floor. It would require a lot of money, much more than I had. It would take constant effort and much time for what others thought of as very little return. Even after all was said and done, I was told I would still own an old 18th century cape, not worth much to anyone but me. There was very little in the way of even bare necessities. Electric, if we wanted it, would all have to be replaced. Plumbing was even worse, almost non existent, and the outside well was contaminated. To this day I don't know why I wasn't at all apprehensive about living in this house. I wonder now, these many years later, if I would do it again. While I hope I would, I'm not sure. But it drew me here, didn't it, this house and the farm it used to be? Somehow, I just knew it would work out, that in time all would be well. For both the house and me.

There were problems everywhere. Real problems which could not bear the weight of children. By that I mean, the floors had to be shored up. I could not move my family in just yet, for, at the very least, there had to be safety and heat for the children. It was winter and this is New Hampshire. At that time my neighbor introduced me to Tim Blanchette, who was then and is now my go to guy. Tim and his partner came to the house, assessed the situation, and while one said this place should be bulldozed, Tim said, We can get you in here. Tim keeps us here to this day.

After the immediate safety related things were taken care of, way before the pretty things were begun, we moved in during a blizzard on Valentine's Day. I took that as a good sign although I'm not sure why.

Little by little we moved into a new century, too. Our house was built in the 18th century, as far as I know. But we were moving all the way to the 19th century. That was as far as I wanted to go. I'd dreamed of living in the 1800's since I was a little girl and now I had the chance. No 20th century for me and certainly no 21st, I thought.

Suffice it to say, things change. A hip replacement, necessary because I was gored by a cow with horns. Put simply, many lessons the 19th century teaches us are valuable and I doubt I could ever completely leave that century behind. But, had I been living back then when that cow tried to move me out of her way, I'd have been crippled for life. That was an eye opener for me. I began thinking. At about the same time a friend of mine said, You just don't have to work so hard, not these days.

So—maybe electricity would be alright. Now I have three freezers which hold the fruits of my labor. Maybe I could use modern plumbing. A shower at the end of a hard day feels great.

Little by little, I tiptoed into the 20th century. A new well meant I didn't have to boil every single drop of water we used, you see. Though we still look a lot like we live in the 19th century, this 20th century fits us both, my house and me.

We like it here.

Mud Season

Mud season, two weeks give or take in late March or early April is at its very best, muddy. At the worst, the roads and our driveway are impassable. I have to hope and pray against all odds that I will not have anywhere pressing to go. At least nowhere to get in a hurry. It's just not possible to go through deep mud quickly.

Each year, as funds allow, a little bit more of the driveway gets fixed and I can drive a little closer to the house during mud season. Gravel makes