The Farm

My grandfather Raymond Miner and his wife Rebecca Rugg Miner owned a small farm near Indian Head in the southwest corner of Pennsylvania. Granddad raised a few cattle, a couple horses, several pigs, a flock of chickens, and a passel of kids, eight to be exact, five girls and two boys. The only crops I can remember him growing were hay, corn, and of course Grandma’s garden.

The farm was dominated by a large two story farmhouse and a weathered gray barn. There were several outbuildings, a block covering for the spring, two chicken coops, a smoke house, a corn crib, and of course the outhouse. The farmhouse had a large basement that contained a myriad of shelves to hold canned goods, the pump for water, a coal bin and the huge coal furnace with its octopus maze of heating ductwork. At the end of the steep stairs descending to the basement was a huge flat stone approximately three feet by five feet platform before stepping down onto the basement floor. Cobwebs decorated much of the less frequently explored areas. The lighting was single bulbs that dangled from ceiling wires.

Three large hemlock trees shaded the long front porch, their roots lifting a few of the bricks in the walkway to the porch. Later, I remember the back porch being built in to house “indoor plumbing” t to make room for a toilet and bathtub. I was too little do more than get in the way as the men dug a hole to place the septic tank and ditches for the drainage field. That was a blessing for Gram and her progressing rheumatic arthritis. She no longer had to make trips to the outhouse or use the chamber pot, but. Granddad still kept the two-hole outhouse. With so many kids and grandkids, the outhouse was often necessary in peak demand times at gatherings to butcher the hogs and a bull or for holiday celebrations.

He donated a small lower field to his church when they were looking for a new location to build and expand. The minister once described Granddad as Enoch-like. He was a quiet man who walked with God when he died.