Once a week, my family dresses in pioneer clothes, and steps into time — full skirts, long sleeves, aprons, pantaloons, bonnets, and boots. Our invention for time traveling is an air-conditioned car. Once I drive through the gates, we’ve arrived in the 1800’s.

My family’s been working at a living history museum for over four years. As a home schooling family, it’s been the best educational decision we’ve ever made.

The first thing I do on the farm is search for firewood. While my son is chopping wood, or gathering logs, the younger kids are sent fetching for kindling. Keeping the wood-burning stove fed and happy is no simple feat — once the fire is roaring, the wood burns quickly. Temperature control depends on the type of stove I’m using, and that’s if I’m lucky to own one. Many pioneer families used a Dutch oven in a fireplace or a fire pit. Not all pioneers had an indoor kitchen. The stove I’m using isn’t fancy. If food starts to burn, I remove the pots temporarily from the fire, or move it to a burner at the back of the stove. Since our water is pumped cold from a well, I set a pot to boil on the stove for clean-up.

Like most days in Texas, it’s hot outside. I open the windows. No screens to keep out the wasps and flies. I look carefully before I sit. We have mice in the cupboards. Before I peel the potatoes and chop the onions, I check the garden — green beans, okra, cucumbers…

I save the potato and onion peelings in a pile to feed the pigs.

By the time visitors arrive, the stew’s boiling. With ease, I stir the pot with a big wooden spoon and greet the people as they come to the door. I guess being at the farm all these years has taken away the novelty for me. I feel comfortable in my surroundings. The questions begin to pour. How did we keep our food cold? Where did we use the bathroom? Are we ever bored?

I dig out the flour and start kneading the biscuits. Hopefully they’ll rise in the oven. If not, I’ve learned a new trick — place the pan over the stove and fry them. Most times I cheat and bring my own butter from home. I’ve tried the butter churning thing.

I asked a young visitor who appeared to be twelve if he would like to live in the 1800’s. He paused and replied seriously, “I guess. Back then, there was no global warming.”

A woman appears in shorts and jewelry. Her nose wrinkles as she sweeps the kitchen with her eyes. I get a whiff of perfume. She gives me the once over. My long hair’s falling out of its bun, I’m wearing no make-up and I’m sure my dress and apron must look hideous. I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my sleeve and with satisfaction I look at my kitchen. I feel a sense of accomplishment.

I’ve often pondered why food tastes so good on the farm and I think it’s a combination of cooking from scratch and plain hard work. On a rare chance I get to sit quietly on the porch, I enjoy the fresh breeze and the view of the open fields. I ask myself the same questions that I often ask others. Would I be willing to give up my life of ease to live in the 1800’s?

Sometimes I’m torn.

After a hard day on the farm, I head home in my time machine. The air conditioner is heavenly. The plush seat of my car is so much more comfortable than the ladder back chairs. I drive past the fast food restaurants. How easy it would be to pick up dinner — I could plop myself on the couch and be lady leisure.

Living in the 1800’s and the year 2000 all in one day is an assault on one’s senses! As soon as I step into my home, I feel as though I’ve walked into pure luxury. The air conditioner has artificially cooled my house. I’m greeted with color, lots of vibrant color — plush furniture, plants, computers, television sets, refrigerator, decorative lamps, plumbing, and running water. And junk — lots of junk. At the farm there are no frivolities. Nothing goes to waste and everything serves a purpose. In my palace, I see mostly nonsense. I hate plastic bags and I’m tired of the rat race.

With guilt I scrape my dinner scraps into the trash — food that normally would have fed the chickens and the pigs. There are no large gardens to tend or cows to milk. My time machine takes me to a modern-day grocery store where I can buy food to my heart’s content. Lots of imported goodies, fruits, chocolates, frozen meals, ice cream…

With a mere press of a button, I tune into the local news and see what’s happening in the world around me. I skim over the history and travel channels. I answer my emails.

Concern for the economy has kept me in both time periods. I’ve been cleaning my house of nonsense and making my kitchen more functional.

One day at the farm a visitor proclaimed that she absolutely couldn’t cope without her microwave. I had four years of bottled wisdom for her. I simply asked, “What if you didn’t have electricity?”  

I ask myself that question every time I examine my house. I’ve been purchasing oil lamps, stocking up on candles and teaching myself to cook more from scratch. I’m trying to be more self reliant with a make-do attitude.

For food storage I try not to rely on my refrigerator too much. In a flash, we could all be living without the very things we take for granted. With the high cost of gasoline and utilities, I have a feeling many of us will be reduced to more simple living.

It’s all over the news about the floods and the crops being destroyed. Without a doubt our food prices will rise yet again.

I’m not promised a life of leisure nor am I promised another tomorrow. My time traveling keeps things in perspective.  No longer do I take things for granted.

What I do have, I’m so very thankful for.

 

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