The Old Pot Belly Stove
When it gets warm in the early spring we want to plant the garden, put out the lawn furniture and begin to enjoy the outdoor atmosphere. Spring fever hits with a vengeance after winter is waning.
I always am reminded of the years in Idaho when our living room was heated with an old fashioned and very ugly potbelly stove. It did heat the room but oh, it was so unattractive. After a warm spell, and then a cold one, we were ready for spring for sure. When it arrived, even temporarily, we looked at that old stove and wondered if it might not be time to take it down and store it in the dirt floor cellar under the house.
After about 5 days of very warm weather Dad would say, "What do you think. Shall we take it down?" Mother's reply would be something like "I don't know. It sure is ugly. Better wait." If the weather turned cold and rainy she was glad she decided to wait to take down that old stove. We welcomed the warmth of the coal and wood fire. But if a week went by, then another,of nice weather they'd finally give in and Dad would dismantle the stove & chimney, and carry the little black & sooty cast iron stove down the stairs. Sure enough, within a day or so it was chilly. Oh, but it will warm up tomorrow. Or the next day. After several days of shivering or sitting in the kitchen around the old green cook stove, Mother would say, "I know I told you to take down the stove, but I guess we need it. Summer isn't here after all."
Perhaps it was Dad, who hated the cold who just gave in and had Richard help him bring it back, sooty chimney and all. There would be some discussion on wishing for a nicer stove for the living room, but of course in the early 1940's that wasn't possible.
After a year or so of realizing this pattern I'd want to tell them not to take the stove down, no matter how much we disliked it in warm weather, because for sure it was going to get cold again. Like Dad, I really disliked cold inside. I knew no one would pay attention to me, because I was just an old fuss budget, and needed to mind my own business. Chidren were seen, and not heard in that time.
At long last the time came when somehow there was enough money to afford a wonderful new tall brown enamel Heatrola. It even had a little place on the back where we could add water to humidify the room. What luxury. It was so nice and looked like a suitable piece of furniture and no need to even think of taking it down. The top was flat, and we could hold our hands out over it to get them warm. Or another bonus was to have a space to carefully dry wet clothes if washday was rainy. Note the carefully part. We soon learned that scorched clothes weren't nice. Mother frowned if it was thread-bare towels left on too long and she scolded if it was sheets. In that day, white sheets were a must - there were no colored sheets until much later, after the War was long over. By white, it meant snowy white. The family honor hung on how nice the sheets looked flapping on the clothesline, and for certain the neighbors would comment if we had brown scorch marks. There were no secrets in rural Idaho then or now. Also it was very important at how early they were out to dry Monday mornings but that's another story.
Oh the wonder of a new toasty warm nice looking front room stove with plenty of room to pull up a chair behind it, at least quite close, and read a good book. It was also wonderful if our white ankle socks or undies weren't dried, or truthfully, not hand-washed the night before. Washday was once a week, and anything that needed washing was done by hand in the enamel washdish, water poured from the teakettle on the kitchen stove. Later we got a sink in the kitchen with cold running water, so not necessary to go out to the pump to fill the water bucket & the teakettle. That, also is another story.
Since we often only had one pair of socks without holes at a time, and no one with any class at all wore dirty socks or those with holes, we'd scrub them daily. Once again, caution was the byword. Don't leave even for a second, turn the drying things often, and hope the bus wasn't coming yet. This was when we were old enough to care about appearances in our early teens. Twenty nine or thirty five cents of many a weekend baby sitting dollar often was spent on a new pair of white anklets to wear with our saddle shoe oxfords.
All these memories just because we have a warm spell, followed by a return to winter in the early spring. "The kind of day we'd wish to take down the old stove," I say. A furnace is wonderful, but never as cosy and warm as a nice coal stove, especially if it is a Heatrola.
I always am reminded of the years in Idaho when our living room was heated with an old fashioned and very ugly potbelly stove. It did heat the room but oh, it was so unattractive. After a warm spell, and then a cold one, we were ready for spring for sure. When it arrived, even temporarily, we looked at that old stove and wondered if it might not be time to take it down and store it in the dirt floor cellar under the house.
After about 5 days of very warm weather Dad would say, "What do you think. Shall we take it down?" Mother's reply would be something like "I don't know. It sure is ugly. Better wait." If the weather turned cold and rainy she was glad she decided to wait to take down that old stove. We welcomed the warmth of the coal and wood fire. But if a week went by, then another,of nice weather they'd finally give in and Dad would dismantle the stove & chimney, and carry the little black & sooty cast iron stove down the stairs. Sure enough, within a day or so it was chilly. Oh, but it will warm up tomorrow. Or the next day. After several days of shivering or sitting in the kitchen around the old green cook stove, Mother would say, "I know I told you to take down the stove, but I guess we need it. Summer isn't here after all."
Perhaps it was Dad, who hated the cold who just gave in and had Richard help him bring it back, sooty chimney and all. There would be some discussion on wishing for a nicer stove for the living room, but of course in the early 1940's that wasn't possible.
After a year or so of realizing this pattern I'd want to tell them not to take the stove down, no matter how much we disliked it in warm weather, because for sure it was going to get cold again. Like Dad, I really disliked cold inside. I knew no one would pay attention to me, because I was just an old fuss budget, and needed to mind my own business. Chidren were seen, and not heard in that time.
At long last the time came when somehow there was enough money to afford a wonderful new tall brown enamel Heatrola. It even had a little place on the back where we could add water to humidify the room. What luxury. It was so nice and looked like a suitable piece of furniture and no need to even think of taking it down. The top was flat, and we could hold our hands out over it to get them warm. Or another bonus was to have a space to carefully dry wet clothes if washday was rainy. Note the carefully part. We soon learned that scorched clothes weren't nice. Mother frowned if it was thread-bare towels left on too long and she scolded if it was sheets. In that day, white sheets were a must - there were no colored sheets until much later, after the War was long over. By white, it meant snowy white. The family honor hung on how nice the sheets looked flapping on the clothesline, and for certain the neighbors would comment if we had brown scorch marks. There were no secrets in rural Idaho then or now. Also it was very important at how early they were out to dry Monday mornings but that's another story.
Oh the wonder of a new toasty warm nice looking front room stove with plenty of room to pull up a chair behind it, at least quite close, and read a good book. It was also wonderful if our white ankle socks or undies weren't dried, or truthfully, not hand-washed the night before. Washday was once a week, and anything that needed washing was done by hand in the enamel washdish, water poured from the teakettle on the kitchen stove. Later we got a sink in the kitchen with cold running water, so not necessary to go out to the pump to fill the water bucket & the teakettle. That, also is another story.
Since we often only had one pair of socks without holes at a time, and no one with any class at all wore dirty socks or those with holes, we'd scrub them daily. Once again, caution was the byword. Don't leave even for a second, turn the drying things often, and hope the bus wasn't coming yet. This was when we were old enough to care about appearances in our early teens. Twenty nine or thirty five cents of many a weekend baby sitting dollar often was spent on a new pair of white anklets to wear with our saddle shoe oxfords.
All these memories just because we have a warm spell, followed by a return to winter in the early spring. "The kind of day we'd wish to take down the old stove," I say. A furnace is wonderful, but never as cosy and warm as a nice coal stove, especially if it is a Heatrola.
posted by Grandma Hyde at 8:06 AM
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