Mary Ann’s Journey

Growing Up on the Farm . . .

Anna (Henry and Phoebe’s youngest) and her young baby Mary Ann taken in the early 1950s.

My journey to the farm was measured in steps, not miles. . .  

My mother, Anna, was the youngest daughter of Phoebe and Henry’s six girls.   She wanted to be nearby so that she could help care for Phoebe who was confined to a wheelchair. My father, William Gardner Miller purchased three parcels of property across from the old farm where Henry and Phoebe lived.   This was ten years before I was born.  

Note: In future articles, we will talk about construction in  the 1830’s, the time of the original farm, and the1930’s when my parents built our house across the street.

My mother spent almost every day with my grandmother. As soon as I could sit up, I spent much of my time sitting on my grandmother’s lap, so my mother could help with the daily chores.

This picture on the left is me sitting on my grandmother’s lap.

Making Hay . . .My father and mother on the tractor with my grandfather, Henry, on the back.

My father, Bill, bought a 1935 Allis Chalmers Model B tractor, and my grandfather was thrilled.   My father was Superintendent of Warren Township and went to work early, coming home about 3:30 PM.   My grandfather told my mother that Bill could do more work after he came home with the tractor than he could all day with the horses.   This is a picture of  Mother and Dad on the tractor with Henry helping to stack the hay.  I believe this picture was probably posed not long after they got the tractor.   In reality,  my mom drove the tractor while  my dad and grandpa stacked the hay. Her skin was fair so she really appreciated the large umbrella that Daddy put on the tractor.  

Making hay had changed by the time I was born. . .  

A man with a baler would come after the  hay was mown, raked and ready to be baled.   My father would pay the neighborhood boys and cousins to help with the bales while my mother and I made lunch for the hungry crew.   

My father with our cows in front of the barn.

If there were bales that needed to be brought in later, Mom would drive, my Dad would put them on the wagon, and I would move them into place and stack them.   Bales of hay aren’t light but with a good hay hook, it wasn’t bad. 

When the boys came, I wasn’t allowed to help.   That was ok with me.   We had a conveyor to take the hay to the upper part of the barn.   It was great as long as you got them on the conveyor correctly.

This is our family home on the farm.