How did I ever hear about John and Frieda's life before they became so important to our family? I don't know. It just comes out of my mind without any source I can remember. My story was that originally they had owned a farm in Marshfield. A tragic fire wiped out both buildings and stock and they were left with nothing.​

 

In order to make a living, they answered a help wanted ad placed by Carter's Resort on the east shore of Squirrel Lake. The resort at that time had housekeeping cabins and served meals. Frieda became the cook, cleaner and laundress and John was the hired hand, doing everything needed to keep the place going, including maintaining the Carter ferry, which transported guests back and forth across the span between the landing and Squirrel Island.

 

Mr. Miner found them before we did, and Frieda was cooking and doing washing for him when I first mwt her. Mr. Miner had a live-in helper, Ada McClean, who also did some of the work, Shemight have gotten too ols, or too feeble to do it all. She's a bron (vague) figure in my memory, always shuufling around in houseslippers, with her hose rolled around her knees. She had an unusual drawl - southern? Eastern? Frieda claimed Ada spent her spare time at the Little Brown Jug.*  At eight years of age, I didn't have any idea about accents or little brown jugs.

 

John did chores at "Mr.'s" small farm. There were the three pigs, a henhouse full of chickens, and a cow – Faye – all located near the main house. Faye's stall also contained feed cans full of chicken feed and pig meal. The pigs also got the kitchen "slops" evey day. I usually got to help with the chickens, scattering feed to help Frieda get them off the nest, then helping pick up the warm eggs they left exposed. A couple of geese in a separate pen were fattened for the holiday dinners, but they were mean and not good playmates for a young neighbor.

 

Mr. Miner also had about a dozen sheep, which were kept in the clearing across the road during the summer and in the sheep house half way between Miner's "Big House" and Frieda and John's house near the road during the winter. They were kept there for warmthand to protect them from the bear during the lambing season.

 

Between the stock building and the Miner house was the woodshed, with John's homemade power saw, run frmo the axle of his old pickup. There was a smokehouse for curing hams and fish, the maple syrup boiling area, and the soap-making kettle. this was also the area where we practiced hitting cans with air rifle pellets.

 

The root cellar was on the other side of the driveway, full of canned chicken, pork chops, beans, pickles, corn and saurkraut. Between it and the house was the laundry shed with its zinc washtubs, wash rack and stationary hand wringer. Big copper pots heated the water on the kitchen stove to be carried to the shed on washday.

 

My days working with John and Frieda were varied and always interesting. They were punctuated with surprises which taught me odds and ends of woods wisdom, and how to make the best of limited resources and physical strength.

 

For instance, one morning John and I happened on a skunk stuck in the mikk can. We could tell it was there becasue its tail was visible coming out the top of the can/ John didn't hesitate, but grabbed the skunk by its tail, pulled it out of the can and heaved it into the woods.

 

"Why didn't it spray us?" I wondered. According to John, a skunk's hind feet have to be planted on the ground before he can release his potent scent gland spray. Right or not, it worked for us – at least that time!

 

As a small child it appeared to me that life was a constant battle against the wildlife around us. John spent a lot of time clubbing something to death. It was mice and chipmunks in the feed bins and porcupines eating the bark of trees (and tool handles!).

 

Keeping the deer out of the garden was another chore – sometimes handles by the electric fence and sometimes by Speck, the springer spaniel. Other enemies were raccoons and 'possums, rabbits and woodchucks, who sometimes ended up in Frieda's 'goulash.' John's air rifle was usually handy fo rthe ridding of smaller animals.

 

One big lesson Frieda and John taught me was to make do with whatever was at hand, and to use everything. The new hay barn was put together with skinned trees, boards from Patterson's Lumber yard, and a string-and-rock plumb line. Feedsacks made great dish towels, and when the company began printing them with floral designs, they became aprons, dresses and pajamas. Most of the garbage went to the pigs. (to be continued...)