Foothill Follies
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
May 28, 1937
Busy Season
At this time of year when spring finally arrives, though late, farmers put forth every effort to make the most of a short growing season. In order to get crops planted as quickly as possible, they work early and late. No one on the farm can get enough sleep and the hired man complains that the boss tucks him in on one side of the bed then walks around to the other side and yanks him out again.
Poor Man
A farmer here, probably an ex-cow puncher, hobbled to the house the other day and between groans said to his wife, “That old cow has durn near killed me. I believe she’s broke every bone in my foot.”
“Goodness, that’s too bad,” sympathized his better half. “I suppose she stepped on it and wouldn’t move for half an hour.”
“Well, no,” he admitted, “I was trying to milk the old hussy and she wouldn’t stand still, so I up and kicked her!”
WHO’S WHO IN CASSIA COUNTY
Ethel Bronson aged four has known Dr. C.I.Sater of Malta for a long time but when she met Dr. R.J. Sutton of Oakley she got their names mixed, and calls one Dr. Suter and the other Dr. Satan. The problem is to figure which is which.
(At this point the title of the column changes again...)
FOOTHILL FACTS AND FANCIES
July 29, 1937
WIRE GATES
The other day I had occasion to ride horseback to one of the neighbor’s a distance of about two miles. On this trip it was necessary to open eight or more wire gates, making a total of sixteen times I had to dismount to open and close gates. It seems that no matter what state of dis-repair the ranchers’ fences may be in, they always keep their wire gates mended after a fashion and so tightly closed that it would take a Houdini to get through most of them. AS I was carrying a bushel of grain part of the way back home, by the time I arrived my thoughts about the fellow who invented this typical western monstrosity were anything but complimentary.
HAYMAKING
Wherever one goes lately there is the appealing odor of new mown hay and Junction valley is no exception. Haying is the principal occupation here at present. For recreation and diversion the haymakers have the privilege of loping to shelter during earch of the frequent thunder showers.
BIRTH ANNOUNCEMENT
An example of the speed with which news sometimes travels in the foothills was shown the other day when Moulton residents heard of the arrival of a baby girl at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Philbert Lind some time in February. This news was special because of the fact that although the young lady is the Linds’ fifth child, she is their first daughter.
CITY SHEEP HERDER
One sheep outfit here seemed to be unable to keep a herder for any length of time, so they were always getting new and inexperienced hands. Once they brought out a man who had always lived in a city and had never before seen a sheep. They put his camp on a mountain meadow near a spring which only needed to be cleaned out. In a couple of days he called at a ranch for a drink and remarked that if his employers didn’t bring him some water he was going to quit. During the conversation that followed he asked the rancher, “what do you suppose makes the sheep run at night?”
“Oh, probably jackrabbits, or maybe a coyote was after them.”
“I know it wasn’t a coyote,” explained the herder. “At least it never killed any, for if it had, the sheep would have yelled bloody murder.”
ACCIDENT
The Vipont truck driver lost control of his truckload of ore on the road this side of the Granit pass. As he bucked over a fence and one or two mountain washes. I assume he was trying to train his steed for the Oakley celebration.
August 12, 1937
PITCHFORK OR PEN
Thinking that bunching and loading hay would be a nice soft job, I tried it for a few days, but came to the conclusion that (Illegible)
Where There is Smoke
The smoky hase that hangs over the foothills these days should remind us that fire is a treacherous villain, traveling fast and far. Though east to (illegible) once it gains headway fire is (illegible) hard to extinguish. A little (illegible) now might prevent many catastophes later.
New Teacher
The current professor of the Moulton district having resigned his position in favor of a larger school, there was a vac ancy in the faculty. This made the board of trustees popular with candidates for the position, and several fine looking young fellows made personal applications. As beign married was one of the requirements, Harry Eames of Elba brought his newly acquired bride along and got the job. Mr. Leavitt will teach at Springdale.
Frost Does Some Good
An early frost did a little damage to some garden crops, but was useful in that it put a slight damper on some annoyances such as mosquitoes and nudists.
Oakley Brevities…
Among the early-timers visiting the home town Sunday were Mr. and Mrs J.L. Webb of Los Angeles, who moved from Oakley 27 years ago: Wallace Craner of Buhl who left 25 years ago: and Nelton Anderson of Twin Falls, who left 15 years ago.
August 19, 1937
LIGHTNING STRIKES
Lightning set fire to a hay stack belonging to Westly and LaMar Bronson Saturday afternoon. Volunteer fire fighters were able to get the blaze under control and save most of the hay.
Jack Haines was knocked for two or three rolls by lightning on the same day at Lynn, Utah. Although Jack was badly shaken he was uninjured.
JUNCTION’S BEST CROP
Last Sunday there were thirty-eight children at church, out of a total attendance of sixty. If we can’t imprt inhabitants for our valley, perhaps we can raise ‘em.
TAME DEER
Edgar Meecham and his eight-year-old son LaVar, who returned to Burley recently after herding sheep in this locality, kept account of the number of deer they saw during the summer. Mr. Meecham counted thirty-nine, while LaVar, who was out only forty-three days, saw twenty. Mr. Meecham states that often the deer would feed around with the sheep without any fear of the herder.
TRAINS AND BUGGY RIDES
Frank Olson’s comment on folks who have seen trains caused me to make some inquiries which brought out the fact that we have a girl eleven years old who has never ridden on a train. However I think we can claim some distinction inasmuch as we’ve all had a buggy ride.
August 26, 1937
ROADS
It’s getting to be about the time of year when someone should start to holler about the Birch creek road, so I might as well be the one to begin. Are we going to be snowbound again this year because our road is ungraded and there are no snow fences? Let us hope something more than growls and threats is done about it this fall.
SCHOOL IMPROVEMENTS
A number of things are being done to the Moulton school house and grounds in the way of improvement: plastering, kalsomining and painting on the inside and fencing, fixing the pump and shed on the outside. Two things will yet be lacking. One is a flag pole and the other a sign giving the name of the school. This latter would give residents some relief from answering tourists who persist in asking, “Where is Moulton?”
RUSHING BUSINESS
In a conversation with an out-of-towner I remarked that it looked as if I would need to go somewhere and work in order to send our girl to highschool.
“Why don’t you go to Almo and send her on the new bus line to Malta?” Asked the O.T.
“What in the world kind of work could I get to do in Almo?”
“Well- you might get a job in one of the beer joints. There’s only three of them, so they are pretty busy.”
September 1, 1937
AUTUMN SIGNS
Some unmistakable signs of approaching autumn may be noticed these days in the foothill country. The mountains seem to recede a little farther in the distance. An increasing number of grain fields are being reduced to stubble; many truckloads of grain steering toward the railroad. Sheep men are commencing to take their flocks from the hills to the lower country and to fields. Activity is increasing around the school houses, with about an equal number of kids looking sad and happy at the prospects of returning to the study of the three r’s. And last but not least that old hen you (illegible) painstakingly about April, giving her the best of care, who hatched out one chick, now struts proudly out in the barnyard, after having (illegible) away, with a breed by twelve or thirteen. It will probably be the latter number on that when they all freeze to death later on you can say that is the reason.
HONEY, AT ANY RATE
Judging from the frequent visit made by a couple of young cubs from Vipont, they must have found a bee tree in Moulton.
DANCE
A shindig of first dimensions were held here Friday night. Floyd Leavitt and Harry Eames, the retiring and this years profs, were the guests of honor. They with their wives and some friends came from Elba. There were also representatives from Almo, Oakley, Burley and Pocatello, Idaho, as well as from Smithfield and Vipont, Utah.
EFFICIENCY
There have been several fires on the hills around us lately, but they have been promptly extinguished. It is said that these fires have been reported by airplane pilots, and forest workers sometimes arrive at the scene within an hour. It’s rather pleasant to contemplate such efficiency, especially in comparison with the carelessness of those who are responsible for starting the fires.
September 16, 1937
MODERN HARVEST
During this harvesting season, on one occasion I had the privilege of riding on a combined harvester and observing at first hand how modern machinery has eliminated labor. Where it used to require fourteen or more men to cut and thresh grain, the work is now done by two, and no doubt it takes less than half the time. One man drives the tractor which pulls the harvester at a speed of about eight miles an hour. The other places the empty sacks on the machine and when they are filled removes them, sews them up, then dumps them off onto the field. The manufacturers thought that this poor fellow had the hardest job, so to compensate him they built for his comfort a very fine upholstered seat. Now, “threshers for dinner” is merely an incident in the farm-wife’s life instead of a great event as it used to be in days gone by.
DING DONG BELL
When one of our little puppies was missing for three days we were at a loss to know what had become of it. On the third day however, when we heard yelps and howls coming from a forty-eight foot well, we were somewhat enlightened. How to get him out was a puzzling question. Boys will be boys you know, but sometimes girls must be boys too. Anyway Laura Pearl went down the well, stepping on a rock curbing, holding to the pipe, and rescued the rash puppy. As this well had gone dry during the depression the pup hardly got his feet wet and aside from an insatiable appetite he was uninjured.
September 23, 1937
ROADS AGAIN
Some work has been done recently on the Birch creek canyon road, but I’m wondering if it will advance as far as the Lyman summit and the Butler lane where some grading should be done and snow fences built to make a passable road this coming winter. This stretch of road has been treated so far like the old fellow’s leaky roof: when it rained he couldn’t fix it and when the sun shone he didn’t need to.
CROSS QUESTIONS
A four year old child asks nearly a thousand questions a day. The fact that about the only answers they receive are “yes, “ “uh-nuh,” and “I don’t know,” never seems to discourage the questioner. Here is a sample or two of the kind I get fired at me regularly: “When will we die?” “Why do we breathe?” “Why can’t you see the air?” Yet there are folks who thinks that a girl needs little if any education in order to raise a family?
LIZZIE SAVES THE DAY
One of our neighbors says his old Model T will run on most anything, but since ours wouldn’t run on milk, this same Model T saved me a walk of about two miles, carrying the milk the car couldn’t eat.
September 30, 1937
With the advent of Clarence Fairchild’s thresher the grain harvesting draws to a close for this season and the farmers are preparing the ground for the crops of another year. Besides the usual crops that are harvested here regularly, one farmer, Raymond Lind, has a new one – timothy seed.
Wood haulers are making their yearly trek to the hills Some report the finding of a few- but very few—pine nuts.
Mrs. Joe Moon won a total of six prizes at the county fair—three firsts and three seconds. The prize winning articles were cakes, rolls, jelly and a dress.
The mail carrier, Vance O. Lind, had a reasonable excuse for being late with the mail on Friday evening late with the mail on Friday evening when he returned in a dashing new car.
The hills are beginning to show the first tints of autumn, on the aspen leaves: although frost visited the lower parts of the valley long ago.
Clyde Tunk was more or less excited when he lost a bunch of the cattle he had been pasturing this summer. However, all’s well that ends well. He found ‘em.
October 7, 1937
We took a ride through the Junction valley one day this week and found that it was well worth our while. The first noticeable thing was the new fence around the Moulton school grounds, and the cement platform which at last supports the wobbly pump.
Down by the Bellinger a coyote scurried across the road, and we wondered if it was one of those that killed six of Rufus Wright’s sheep the other night. As we crossed Raft river, a great blue crane with its long dangling legs flew up near-by. We saw a deer grazing in a field and were very much excited until we discovered that it was nothing but a big billy goat. There were numerous stacks of hay and grain well as many fields and green pastures on which fat cattle, sheep and horses grazed contentedly.
The hills on this day seemed to have reached the height of their beauty, with the yellow of the aspen leaves emphasized by the dark green pines that grow among them. The reservoir built by Lind Brothers about 1921 in this lovely setting is a point of great interest. It is well liked by the wild ducks who seem to think it was made especially for them. The original homestead of John Lind is a very picturesque place with its white farm house and red roof nestled among the trees. A homesteader’s log cabin also with a red roof adds its touch of color and interest to an already interesting scene. A trailer home sitting by the river gave us to understand that although the scenery may be a bit old fashioned, there are modern people behind the scenes.
October 21, 1937
PACIFIERS
The lasts road news I understand is that we are to have a highway through the Junction valley. Now that’s great if and when we get it, but in the meantime the great highways of the future do not cause any road work to be done on the present traffic lanes. You remember, don’t you, when a long time ago folks used to give babies a sort of rubber nipple fastened to a ring, on which his majesty the baby could chew for hours without getting a morsel of nourishment. Sooner or later however, sonny would get wise, slam the thing on the floor, and yell with all the strength of his perful little lungs. Well, something like that is bound to happen when the people refuse to longer be pacified by promises of this or that concerning roads. Then you will doubtless hear hollerin' as is hollerin'.
NEAR CALAMITY
The recent rain nearly washed all us dry-farmers down to Oakley, but a timely frost ame to our rescue—or theirs!
HOW TO CURE SLEEPLESSNESS
A certain Mr. Smith had just returned home from the morning session of quarterly Conference. “Say but wasn’t that a great meeting we had this morning?” he asked my husband and me, who were guests at the Smith home.
“A lot you would know about it.” Remarked his wife, “you slept through the entire services.”
“You bet I did,” agreed the jovial Mr. Smith, “And I’m going back this afternoon, and have it out.”
November 4, 1937
ALONG THE WAY
Some of the things that I’ve see and heard going to and from Oakley recently are these: flower beds in ful bloom, one especially attractive with white flowers on Water street, about a million jack-rabbits scurrying across the road; large flocks of ravens; a dozen sheep outfits moving to the lower country to take advantage of farm fields; road workers going toward Basin; other folks in Oakley going to work before seven a.m. and I’ve heard the train whistling long and loud. Carl McBride quoting Scripture; kids confessing Halloween pranks; and meadowlarks singing as lustily as if it were spring. I’ve felt the chill of winter in the early morning and the heat of summer at midday, I’ve heard airplanes droning overhead and trucks putt-a-putting with their heavy loads out of beet and potato fields. These and dozens of other things make one glad to be alive and to be taking part in the activity that makes the world go round.
ROADS AGAIN
Hope you’ll pardon me for mentioning roads again, but this needs to be told:
Atwin Falls man going to Salt Lake City lost his way in the City of Rocks and wound up here at Moulton to inquire which road to take. After directing him through Emigrant canyon his informer added apologetically, “I’m afraid you’ll find the road a little rough pending the construction of the new highway.”
“No Well the one I came on couldn’t exactly be called a boulevard,” he replied.
November 18, 1937
MOULTON OBSERVES ARMISTICE DAY
Armistice day was suitably remembered at the Moulton school, with speeches, song and stories. Mr. Harmon, who was a soldier during the war, and Mr. Eames, who belonged to the national guard, showed some of the maneuvers a soldier has to learn. The rifle used in the demonstration was a relic of the World war, Chester Bullers, whose brother was killed in the battle of the Argonne, made a speech on “The Results of War.”
George W. Bronson made a speech and dedicated the new flag ple. Mrs. Haight, the county superintendent, arrived just in time for the program and told how the children helped to win the war.
STAKE PRESIDENT VISITS
President John A. Elison of Malta and Bishop John Zollinger of Sublett were visitors at church Sunday. A large congregation heard their advice.
December 2, 1937
We need a telephone line in our own valleys and hills. It would save many a long trip and might even be the means of saving lives. It would be of immeasurable assistance to stockmen and farmers in selling their produce and would help to foster sociability and neighborliness among us. What a boon it would be to the man with a bunch of cattle or hogs or sheep to sell! What a joy to the housewife who merely wants to borrow her neighbor’s sweet pickle recipe or find out how the sick baby is getting along? And of what invalua ble service in case of suddne sickness or accident where minutes saved in getting a doctor might mean the difference between life and death.
Many theories have been advanced for the establishment of a telephone service here. Among them was one brought out by Henry Millar, the Baron Munchausen of Cassia county, who proposed to string the wires along fence posts. This idea was discarded as impractical for various reasons, one of which was doubtless the fact that fences seem to have the habit of disappearing entirely at times in part of the country. Anyway with a cooperative spirit we should eventually have a telephone line in the foothills. The thing that started me to thinking about it was wishing there were a party line for me to listen on and get some news.
The lure of the old homestead brought Mr. And Mrs. Fred Kidman and daughter Oleda back to our valley to look at remembered scenes and chat with old friends, last weekend. They were accompanied by Ashel and Verla Fairchild and children.
Harry and Velma Eames spent the Thanksgiving holiday with “Father Roy’s” family at Elba.
Mr. and Mrs. J.R. Stowers and grandsons Howard and Clyce Haines have been visiting for a while at the Joe Millard home. Joe and howard are working at present on the stake house at Malta.
Those who attended the community dinner and dance on Thanksgiving day were probably all guilty of eating too much in an effort to stow away the enormous quantity of food provided.
December 9, 1937
Butchering time as arrived in the foothills and is at its height now. All animals whose flesh is good for the food of man had better beware.
A heavy fog hangs over the foothills every morning lately. It is a gentle reminder to get prepared for some real winter weather after a while.
When it was decided that the ladies from Moulton should go to Lynn to Relief society meeting, I volunteered to do the driving for the party. It took some tall talking and some coerscion to persuade some of the members to risk their lives that way, but we finally got to our destination okay. The meeting was unusually successful, being a discussion and demonstration of how to make Christmas gifts. At its close, Mrs. Vida Lind, the hostess, served a sumptuous feast. Outside of tearing a yard or two out of the bishop’s fence, hitting most of the ditches and bumps without slowing down, and running into a wild horse—I know the horse was sild for when the car hit his heels, his heels hit somewhere out in space—the ladies voted me a fair driver and were thankful to get back alive.
A Mutual activity meeting is to be held Friday night in the Moulton school house.
Mr. and Mrs. George Kirkpatrick are visiting relatives at Blackfoot.
Aunt Lollie and baby Jake
I can't wait to be a Grandma!!!
Friday, September 30, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
Lou Ella Jones Bronson - A Farmer's Wife Looks at Life
A Farmer’s Wife Looks at Life
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
March 26, 1937
Mr. and Mrs. Phil Slater had an alarm clock which had been in use for twenty or more years when they left Junction about six years ago. They had brought it with them when they came here from Slatersville, Utah, and it was still keeping good time when they moved to the flat. If it has stopped during the past six years, that of course can be attributed to the less favorable climate.
In the article concerning the Junction Valley in last week’s paper, the first paragraph should have read “When the Junction valley was filed upon by homesteaders about twenty to twenty-five years ago, there were fifty or more homesteads taken up on the north side of the valley.” The population as given referred only to the Idaho side as there were well over a hundred families in the entire junction.
A meadow lark added a touch of color to a recent blizzard by flitting gaily through the snow, although he couldn’t pluck up enough courage to sing till the storm was over.
The automobiles made their way to Almo by way of Immigrant canyon. One carried Fred Taylor and Lee Kirkpatrick while the passengers in the other were Mr. and Mrs. Floyd Leavitt. Mrs. Leavitt, who has been ill with flu stayed with her folks at Elba.
One trip with the grader for whatever implement is used to scrape snow out of the roads) would make the road between Oakley and the Utah line passable for cars. This service would be appreciated my many of our residents.
April 2, 1937
A real curiosity was seen here this spring when a white hawk flew across the valley. It is not known whether it is an albino of some of the species that inhabit this part of the country of if there is a breed of white hawks. If there is, the one that was seen here was probably migrating to some other locality. The hawk was alone and flying from east to west.
William L. McKnight of American Falls was out last week looking over the Raft river oil wells site with some of the stockholders. Mr. McKnight thinks the project should not be abandoned until they have dug at least to a depth of a thousand feet. It was in 1918 that the Oasis Oil Company started digging in that locality for oil. After sinking the well to a depth of nearly five hundred feet the digging operations stopped either for lack of funds or lack of oil prospects. For several years a watchman has had a lien on the derrick and machinery which has prevented the company from moving them. It is reported. Last winter this watchman, it is said, was accidentally killed while visiting friends so that now the company is at liberty to remove their machinery, which they probably intend to do.
A fact which may not be generally known is that when the first school was held at Moulton, there was no school house, so Bob Griffith allowed the district to use the new log house he had built for a residence for a temporary school house. Mrs. Mabyl Ross, wife of Sam Ross, was the teacher. This was in 1911 and those who attended were four Maulton children, four Harwood children, two Murrays, a niece and nephew of Joseph Moon and it is thought that four Hansen youngsters went too.
The Rosses lived just over the line in Utah and Mr. Ross, Moulton’s first mail carrier, brought the mail from Almo. Each morning he would bring Mrs. Ross to school, a distance of about four miles. The next year the men of Moulton got out logs and built the present school house across the road from the temporary building and school has been held here every year since.
April 9, 1937
Stretching and yawning drowsily I glanced at the window. It’s just beginning to get light, so there’s time to sleep another hour at least I thought; when suddenly rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat, came a sound so startling that I sprang out of bed instantly, thinking we were being attacked by gangsters with machine guns. I had to laugh when the sound was repeated and I recognized Mr. Woodpecker announcing his return for the summer. There was no use trying to sleep in all that noise, so I dressed and walked out to enjoy the spring morning. A pleasant melody greeted my ears, for a brush warbler sat on a nearby bush and sang merrily of how wonderful it is just to be alive on such a fine day. When he passed, his mate answered from a distance with music so sweet that I felt as if I were being lifted from my feet. I was quickly brought back to earth however with a harsh “quack, quack.”
Turning, I saw a saucy magpie sitting on a post holding the dish from which he had just finished a hearty breakfast. Bothe food and dish were a product of our farm, which out to prove at least that Mr. Magpie is a booster for his home town.
Just then a handsome fellow with a yellow vest and black necktie took his stand on a neighboring post and announced cheerfully, “It’s time to get up. It’s a beautiful day.”
As I felt happy, I whistled an answer to him. “Grandma, whistle again,” he ordered.”
“Now don’t be impudent, young smart aleck,” I told him. By now a pair of blue birds had started their day’s work and were talking contentedly together as they flew back and forth with bits of dry grass bark and string, to a house that had been built especially for them. “Cr-r-ree, cr-r-ree.” As I went to feed the chickens a flock of pigeons circled around my head and as they alighted to eat they were joined by a pair of mourning doves. A robin sang “Cheer=up, cheer-up.” A killdeer flew overhead and called his name loudly. As I turned to go into the house, friend meadow lark said, “Junction’s a wonderful place, and I agreed that it does have its advantages.
April 16, 1937
Smoky, a pet Maltese cat belonging to Jimmy and Edna Wright turned out to be quite a sleuth. The Wright children with their mother have been staying near the Moulton School for about a month. Smoky had been missing from the home place for three or four days when suddenly he showed up at their temporary residence six miles distant.
One motorist made an unsuccessful attempt to cross the Lyman summit this week. Though it is urged that Oakley is the logical trade center for this valley, the bad road conditions are the cause of lots of people going to other places that are more accessible to cars.
This is the season of the year when many useful hawks are killed because of the general belief that their main diet is chicken and turkey. These birds destroy enough rodents for the average farmer each year to earn a chicken dinner occasionally. They also sometimes kill an animal which is preying on the poultry flock and for whose depredations the hawk is often blamed. For the farmer to shoot every hawk he sees might be termed “biting off his nose to spite his face.”
The egg producers have caught the fever that is spreading throughout the country and are starting a sit-down strike. These sit-downers have tried the method before and found that they are usually able to raise their pay. As a rule no attempt is made to end such strikes but several effective methods have been developed. One which is a favorite is to hold the striker’s head under a stream of running water. This makes the sit-downer fighting mad and probably brought about the saying, “as mad as a wet hen.”
OAKLEY RESERVOIR REPORTED AT 61 FEET APRIL FIFTEENTH
Oakley reservoir was reported at 61 feet Thursday, April 15. Storage was 14600 acre feet. A year ago the gauge height was 55 feet with 11930 acre feet storage. Water is coming into the reservoir a great deal more slowly than at this time a year ago.
April 23, 1937
On Saturday the annual school election was held to decide who would be the new trustees. While the dads and moms deliberated inside the school house on weighty matters of business, they missed the excitement that was going on outside in the form of a scrap among the kids. One girl had to admit shamefacedly that she had blacked a small boy’s eye. The trouble was finally settled by arbitration.
The new board of trustees consists of George Kirkpatrick, George Bronson and Chester Bullers. Floyd Leavitt has been hired to teach the school again next year.
Phil Slater has brought his large herd of cattle into the valley to be fed the seventy tons of hay that he raised here last summer.
There was a time during one of the driest years, when it was thought that all the vegetation had been burned up. Mrs. Sarah Hunt who was living here then took her Sunday school class for a short walk; and they counted thirty-three varieties of plant life in less than half a mile, bringing back specimens for proof.
It seems good to see the mail carrier using a car once more over the entire route. Chester Bullers, the mail man to take a car out last winter, was the first to venture crossing Lyman ridge this spring with one.
At this time of year the bellowing of cows, bawling at calves, pigs squealing, lambs bleating, cackling and clucking of hens, peeping of young chicks and turkeys are only a few of the sounds that make music for the farmer. And yet city folks complain of the silence of the country.
Moulton
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
May 7, 1937
Blizzards during the latter part of April in this locality are not unusual, but the latest one was works than ordinary. A hen with eleven chicks, unlucky enough to be out, was buried under about two feet of snow. They were not dug out until the next day, but seemed none the worse for the experience.
Our rough roads may be a blessing in disguise. At least they discourage the speed mania that many motorists seem to envelop the instant they strike a highway or a stretch of good road. Automobile accidents are practically unheard of here.
Wesley Bronson and party had the sad experience of being the first on the scene of the recent accident between Oakley and Burley and took the fatally-injured girl to Burley hospital.
Nameless
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
Will someone suggest a name for my column? “Hash” makes the editor sick. “The Farmer’s Wife Looks at Life” makes me sick and the rest of the column probably makes everyone else sick.
Mr. Leavitt took his lone eighth-grader to Malta to take the county exams Tuesday. Chester Bullers has added the Kidman property to his holdings here. He has two hired men and himself hustling early and late getting his crops planted.
George Kirkpatrick and Fred Taylor made a business trip to Twin Falls Wednesday. These folks figure on buying a tractor, in order to speed up the spring work.
The school kids planned a surprise on their teacher on Thursday night. They were themselves surprised upon arriving rather late to find that the Ward games were played, after which refreshments were served. Everyone had a good time. Mrs. Ward has taught this class of students several years ago.
A good crowd attended the dance here Friday night. The music was furnished by Glen Bates. This orchestra will play for another dance here June 4. Everybody welcome.
Mr. and Mrs. Charles Johnston of Oakley spent Saturday and Sunday at Almo.
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
March 26, 1937
Mr. and Mrs. Phil Slater had an alarm clock which had been in use for twenty or more years when they left Junction about six years ago. They had brought it with them when they came here from Slatersville, Utah, and it was still keeping good time when they moved to the flat. If it has stopped during the past six years, that of course can be attributed to the less favorable climate.
In the article concerning the Junction Valley in last week’s paper, the first paragraph should have read “When the Junction valley was filed upon by homesteaders about twenty to twenty-five years ago, there were fifty or more homesteads taken up on the north side of the valley.” The population as given referred only to the Idaho side as there were well over a hundred families in the entire junction.
A meadow lark added a touch of color to a recent blizzard by flitting gaily through the snow, although he couldn’t pluck up enough courage to sing till the storm was over.
The automobiles made their way to Almo by way of Immigrant canyon. One carried Fred Taylor and Lee Kirkpatrick while the passengers in the other were Mr. and Mrs. Floyd Leavitt. Mrs. Leavitt, who has been ill with flu stayed with her folks at Elba.
One trip with the grader for whatever implement is used to scrape snow out of the roads) would make the road between Oakley and the Utah line passable for cars. This service would be appreciated my many of our residents.
April 2, 1937
A real curiosity was seen here this spring when a white hawk flew across the valley. It is not known whether it is an albino of some of the species that inhabit this part of the country of if there is a breed of white hawks. If there is, the one that was seen here was probably migrating to some other locality. The hawk was alone and flying from east to west.
William L. McKnight of American Falls was out last week looking over the Raft river oil wells site with some of the stockholders. Mr. McKnight thinks the project should not be abandoned until they have dug at least to a depth of a thousand feet. It was in 1918 that the Oasis Oil Company started digging in that locality for oil. After sinking the well to a depth of nearly five hundred feet the digging operations stopped either for lack of funds or lack of oil prospects. For several years a watchman has had a lien on the derrick and machinery which has prevented the company from moving them. It is reported. Last winter this watchman, it is said, was accidentally killed while visiting friends so that now the company is at liberty to remove their machinery, which they probably intend to do.
A fact which may not be generally known is that when the first school was held at Moulton, there was no school house, so Bob Griffith allowed the district to use the new log house he had built for a residence for a temporary school house. Mrs. Mabyl Ross, wife of Sam Ross, was the teacher. This was in 1911 and those who attended were four Maulton children, four Harwood children, two Murrays, a niece and nephew of Joseph Moon and it is thought that four Hansen youngsters went too.
The Rosses lived just over the line in Utah and Mr. Ross, Moulton’s first mail carrier, brought the mail from Almo. Each morning he would bring Mrs. Ross to school, a distance of about four miles. The next year the men of Moulton got out logs and built the present school house across the road from the temporary building and school has been held here every year since.
April 9, 1937
Stretching and yawning drowsily I glanced at the window. It’s just beginning to get light, so there’s time to sleep another hour at least I thought; when suddenly rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat, came a sound so startling that I sprang out of bed instantly, thinking we were being attacked by gangsters with machine guns. I had to laugh when the sound was repeated and I recognized Mr. Woodpecker announcing his return for the summer. There was no use trying to sleep in all that noise, so I dressed and walked out to enjoy the spring morning. A pleasant melody greeted my ears, for a brush warbler sat on a nearby bush and sang merrily of how wonderful it is just to be alive on such a fine day. When he passed, his mate answered from a distance with music so sweet that I felt as if I were being lifted from my feet. I was quickly brought back to earth however with a harsh “quack, quack.”
Turning, I saw a saucy magpie sitting on a post holding the dish from which he had just finished a hearty breakfast. Bothe food and dish were a product of our farm, which out to prove at least that Mr. Magpie is a booster for his home town.
Just then a handsome fellow with a yellow vest and black necktie took his stand on a neighboring post and announced cheerfully, “It’s time to get up. It’s a beautiful day.”
As I felt happy, I whistled an answer to him. “Grandma, whistle again,” he ordered.”
“Now don’t be impudent, young smart aleck,” I told him. By now a pair of blue birds had started their day’s work and were talking contentedly together as they flew back and forth with bits of dry grass bark and string, to a house that had been built especially for them. “Cr-r-ree, cr-r-ree.” As I went to feed the chickens a flock of pigeons circled around my head and as they alighted to eat they were joined by a pair of mourning doves. A robin sang “Cheer=up, cheer-up.” A killdeer flew overhead and called his name loudly. As I turned to go into the house, friend meadow lark said, “Junction’s a wonderful place, and I agreed that it does have its advantages.
April 16, 1937
Smoky, a pet Maltese cat belonging to Jimmy and Edna Wright turned out to be quite a sleuth. The Wright children with their mother have been staying near the Moulton School for about a month. Smoky had been missing from the home place for three or four days when suddenly he showed up at their temporary residence six miles distant.
One motorist made an unsuccessful attempt to cross the Lyman summit this week. Though it is urged that Oakley is the logical trade center for this valley, the bad road conditions are the cause of lots of people going to other places that are more accessible to cars.
This is the season of the year when many useful hawks are killed because of the general belief that their main diet is chicken and turkey. These birds destroy enough rodents for the average farmer each year to earn a chicken dinner occasionally. They also sometimes kill an animal which is preying on the poultry flock and for whose depredations the hawk is often blamed. For the farmer to shoot every hawk he sees might be termed “biting off his nose to spite his face.”
The egg producers have caught the fever that is spreading throughout the country and are starting a sit-down strike. These sit-downers have tried the method before and found that they are usually able to raise their pay. As a rule no attempt is made to end such strikes but several effective methods have been developed. One which is a favorite is to hold the striker’s head under a stream of running water. This makes the sit-downer fighting mad and probably brought about the saying, “as mad as a wet hen.”
OAKLEY RESERVOIR REPORTED AT 61 FEET APRIL FIFTEENTH
Oakley reservoir was reported at 61 feet Thursday, April 15. Storage was 14600 acre feet. A year ago the gauge height was 55 feet with 11930 acre feet storage. Water is coming into the reservoir a great deal more slowly than at this time a year ago.
April 23, 1937
On Saturday the annual school election was held to decide who would be the new trustees. While the dads and moms deliberated inside the school house on weighty matters of business, they missed the excitement that was going on outside in the form of a scrap among the kids. One girl had to admit shamefacedly that she had blacked a small boy’s eye. The trouble was finally settled by arbitration.
The new board of trustees consists of George Kirkpatrick, George Bronson and Chester Bullers. Floyd Leavitt has been hired to teach the school again next year.
Phil Slater has brought his large herd of cattle into the valley to be fed the seventy tons of hay that he raised here last summer.
There was a time during one of the driest years, when it was thought that all the vegetation had been burned up. Mrs. Sarah Hunt who was living here then took her Sunday school class for a short walk; and they counted thirty-three varieties of plant life in less than half a mile, bringing back specimens for proof.
It seems good to see the mail carrier using a car once more over the entire route. Chester Bullers, the mail man to take a car out last winter, was the first to venture crossing Lyman ridge this spring with one.
At this time of year the bellowing of cows, bawling at calves, pigs squealing, lambs bleating, cackling and clucking of hens, peeping of young chicks and turkeys are only a few of the sounds that make music for the farmer. And yet city folks complain of the silence of the country.
Moulton
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
May 7, 1937
Blizzards during the latter part of April in this locality are not unusual, but the latest one was works than ordinary. A hen with eleven chicks, unlucky enough to be out, was buried under about two feet of snow. They were not dug out until the next day, but seemed none the worse for the experience.
Our rough roads may be a blessing in disguise. At least they discourage the speed mania that many motorists seem to envelop the instant they strike a highway or a stretch of good road. Automobile accidents are practically unheard of here.
Wesley Bronson and party had the sad experience of being the first on the scene of the recent accident between Oakley and Burley and took the fatally-injured girl to Burley hospital.
Nameless
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
Will someone suggest a name for my column? “Hash” makes the editor sick. “The Farmer’s Wife Looks at Life” makes me sick and the rest of the column probably makes everyone else sick.
Mr. Leavitt took his lone eighth-grader to Malta to take the county exams Tuesday. Chester Bullers has added the Kidman property to his holdings here. He has two hired men and himself hustling early and late getting his crops planted.
George Kirkpatrick and Fred Taylor made a business trip to Twin Falls Wednesday. These folks figure on buying a tractor, in order to speed up the spring work.
The school kids planned a surprise on their teacher on Thursday night. They were themselves surprised upon arriving rather late to find that the Ward games were played, after which refreshments were served. Everyone had a good time. Mrs. Ward has taught this class of students several years ago.
A good crowd attended the dance here Friday night. The music was furnished by Glen Bates. This orchestra will play for another dance here June 4. Everybody welcome.
Mr. and Mrs. Charles Johnston of Oakley spent Saturday and Sunday at Almo.
Monday, September 19, 2011
One Last Serving of Hash by Lou Ella Jones Bronson
Hash
March 26, 1937
A much needed improvement in the roads between here and Oakley is the erection of snow fences to prevent the drifts from piling so deeply in the roads during some of the winter months. Much of the land on which these fences would be built is unimproved pasture land. Therefore they could be permanent in most places. The work, whether it were a WPA or county road project, should be given to men of the Junction Valley. The cost of labor would be almost the only expense,, as all materials for a permanent snow fence are available near the places where thye are needed. If the roads were graded, tht too would help to keep them open to traffic throughout the yuear. Our neighbors on the north would undoubtedly boost for such a project as it would help to bring additional trade to their community.
A well planned program honoring St. Patrick was given at the Moulton school house Sunday. As one of the songs advised we are all Irish on St. Patrick’s day; and it it’s true that the Irish are noted for their tempers, it seems to me that most of us are more or less Irish all the time.
Chester Bullers has been assembling some of his loaned out farm machinery preparatory to starting spring farming; while Mrs. Bullers is already planning her vegetable garden- one that is usually hard to excel.
Rufus Wright thinks he will be able to plow next week, if it doesn’t snow another foot.
George Bronson who was hauling hay from the City of Rocks recently, spent a pleasant evening at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Sparks.
When the snow is melting and water running everywhere, one feels that it would be wonderful if all the water that goes to could be saved and made available to farmers later in the season. Many times, crops that fail to mature could be saved with a good irrigation. This has been accomplished in some places and many some time become a reality here and in other localities where it is not yet practiced.
LaDell Wrigley was looking at a horse’s eye that had been injured. “Well, sir,” said he, “the eye is the tenderest part of the body. I guess, unless it’s the crazy bone.
March 26, 1937
A much needed improvement in the roads between here and Oakley is the erection of snow fences to prevent the drifts from piling so deeply in the roads during some of the winter months. Much of the land on which these fences would be built is unimproved pasture land. Therefore they could be permanent in most places. The work, whether it were a WPA or county road project, should be given to men of the Junction Valley. The cost of labor would be almost the only expense,, as all materials for a permanent snow fence are available near the places where thye are needed. If the roads were graded, tht too would help to keep them open to traffic throughout the yuear. Our neighbors on the north would undoubtedly boost for such a project as it would help to bring additional trade to their community.
A well planned program honoring St. Patrick was given at the Moulton school house Sunday. As one of the songs advised we are all Irish on St. Patrick’s day; and it it’s true that the Irish are noted for their tempers, it seems to me that most of us are more or less Irish all the time.
Chester Bullers has been assembling some of his loaned out farm machinery preparatory to starting spring farming; while Mrs. Bullers is already planning her vegetable garden- one that is usually hard to excel.
Rufus Wright thinks he will be able to plow next week, if it doesn’t snow another foot.
George Bronson who was hauling hay from the City of Rocks recently, spent a pleasant evening at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Sparks.
When the snow is melting and water running everywhere, one feels that it would be wonderful if all the water that goes to could be saved and made available to farmers later in the season. Many times, crops that fail to mature could be saved with a good irrigation. This has been accomplished in some places and many some time become a reality here and in other localities where it is not yet practiced.
LaDell Wrigley was looking at a horse’s eye that had been injured. “Well, sir,” said he, “the eye is the tenderest part of the body. I guess, unless it’s the crazy bone.
LouElla Jones Bronson Column
Several months ago my Uncle Simon handed me an old, tattered Book of Remembrance filled with photocopies of the Column his mother (my grandmother) wrote. He asked me if I would be interested in typing it up. Since I was in the midst of Graduate School at the time, I assurred him that I would, but it may take a while. Well, here it is! Well, part of it. This is the first installment of many. Grandma's column evolved over the years. It started out titled, 'Hash'.
Hash
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
November 6, 1936
Say, it was indeed generous and kind of the Democrats that they did not, as one commentator stated, “gloat over the poor Republicans”. Perhaps the “poor Republicans don’t understand the meaning of that word, “gloat.”
Well, now that the big excitement has subsided, we can settle back to normal and continue the routine of living much the same as usual, with hopes for a bright future. Next Friday is the 13th, a combination that creates a hoodoo for lots of superstitious folks. A friend of mine once had a flock of turkeys, and when she set them she numbered them consecutively one, two, three, etc. When it came to number thirteen she would leave that out, instead giving them the distinction, twelve one, twelve two, fourteen and so on. If I remember correctly, when hatching time arrived number twelve two hatched not a single egg and twelve one sat on her next and starved to death. Instead of convincing my friend that there was really nothing in the thirteen superstition, she was only more sure that the unlucky number had been the ruin of both turkeys.
So if you think thirteen and Friday are unlucky, I’d advise you not to let any black cats pass in front of you, don’t walk under any ladders, and it might be well to carry a rabbit’s foot on that day at least.
An old gentleman who used to live in this part of the country had for years worn a heard. Finally he decided to shave, so one day a friend met him and after staring at his face he remarked rather rudely:
“Well, sir isn’t it surprising how much ugliness a beard can cover up.”
I thought of that when a fresh sparkling blanket of snow covered the barren ugliness which Jack Frost has left in his wake for a few days.
Friday, November 13, 1936
Although Armistice Day will be passed by the time you read this, it will not hurt any of us to recall that important event. Those of us who are old enough remember those hectic days during the war when our best orators in stirring terms appealed to the patriotism of the citizens of the united States; urging them to send their finest young men far across the ocean, to fight in a war in which we should have had no more interest than we have in the present European conflict. But the boys went gaily and jauntily while we cheered them on. Only those who had sons, husbands of brothers at the front know with what fear and anxiety the casualty lists were searched each day and only those who experienced it know the heart-rending anguish that came with the finding of the name of a loved one in the list of dead or missing. How happy we were on that autumn day in 1918 when we heard that on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month hostilities would cease. Remember the joy when the boys returned; the sorrow for those who remained on Flanders Field; and those who came back maimed or crippled. Strange that time should so soon erase these things from our memories and that they are so seldom mentioned that a ten-year-old child has to ask (as one asked me recently) “What is Armistice day?”
This has been National Education week and it is said that thousands of parents would visit the public schools this week. Doubtless other thousands never think to visit the schools where their children receive their education, during this week or any other week. Teachers should invite the parents of the pupils to visit the school twice or three times during the school term and parents should accept those invitations. You are likely to learn more about the progress of your child in one visit than the report cards you ever read could tell you. And incidentally, we might absorb some of the information that is being dispensed to our children- which probably wouldn’t hurt any of us.
A couple of years ago it seemed to me that the word “thrill” was being overworked. So when our five-year-old daughter used it to describe some excitement she’d had, I thought it was time to find out if she knew what it meant so I said, What is a thrill Georgie?”
(Illegible)
(Note from Lollie, If you know the rest of the story, please post!!! I'm dying to know the cute little retort from my Aunt Georgie!)
November 20, 1936
If a new highway is built through our valley via the old Immigrant canyon, I wonder if any of us who travel that route occasionally will be alive to enjoy the luxury of riding on it. We certainly won’t if we persist in traveling on that road as it now is. Those old timers who traveled that way long ago and who were in fear of being ambushed by the Indians were in but a little more danger. They merely faced the possibility of losing their scalps while their modern descendants risk being shaken into a million pieces.
There is, near the spot where the old City of Rocks stage station stood, an ideal place for a dude ranch, tourist cabins, etc. A spring which does not dry up makes water available at all times This land, which is owned at present by Charles Johnston, will someday, if a highway is built through it, help its owner to make a small fortune.
As soon as hay fever season is over, it seems that the cold-catching season is in; so that, for some folks, life is just one big sneeze after another.
November 27, 1936
While stuffing yourself with stuffed turkey on Thanksgiving Day did you (illegible)___ pause to think of how many (illegible)_____ you had to be thankful for? It would not hurt any of us. In fact it would be profitable to stop and reflect much oftener than once a year on the many causes we have for Thanksgiving. Take friendship for just one example: What would you take for the confidence and esteem of your friends. Of course you can place no price on them for they are invaluable.
There should be some law. If only the law of human kindness, to compel trappers to visit their traps daily. Many valuable domestic animals are crippled and killed each year by being caught and held in traps, sometimes for days. It is pitiful to see good dogs or sheep with a foot missing. And no conscientious person would use those horrible devices of torture with diamond teeth which invariably cause the death of any poor animal they chance to catch. Even the wily coyote, for which I have no love at all, deserves a kinder death than that.
It is interesting to see how some people (perhaps all of us) imagine they are hurrying when standing with a door open. They will stand and talk for an hour with the door ajar whereby if you asked them to step in and shut the door they just would have time. This characteristic is especially noticeable in the winter time. In fact they’re likely to act just contrary in the summer, and step inside closing the door very carefully when it’s a hundred and ten in the shade.
December 4, 1936
Well! Well! What strange sights one will see at times! The other day in Burley I saw a big Indian chief in full regalia, including a headdress of brilliant feathers, who was driving a large, shiny new auto. He was doing it very efficiently, too, as Indians seem to do almost everything they undertake.
Have you ever heard of the River of Rocks in Junction Valley? No? Well neither had I till a young lady from Lynn described it to me recently. This strange phenomenon of nature is located about two miles from Raymond Lind’s place. I intend to see this rare formation next spring when nature is at its best. Then if you haven’t seen it first perhaps I’ll try to tell you about it in more detail.
The road between our valley and Almo has at last been given a fitting name by one of our residents. The title is Forgotten Road. Upon first thought I could not recall that any work had ever been done on this road, but by questioning other residents with better memories it was found that at one time we actually had a road supervisor here- strange as this may seem to some of us now- and has made some changes and some much needed improvements in the road then. This credit is due Gordon Edwards who was the said supervisor when he lived among us. However all traces of any improvements have been erased by time and erosion. Last summer some tourists stopped to inquire the route to City of Rocks. They said if the rest of the road was as bad as that over which they had come from Oakley, they believed they would turn around and go back. Well if one were truthful he could but admit it was ten times worse. But far be it from any of us to be the cause of any one’s missing the thrill of seeing that wonderful city for the first time, so of course on such occasions very little is said about road conditions, and a great deal about the marvelous sights at the end of the road.
December 25 1936
The report that more than three thousand young pines were taken from our valley for Christmas trees this year, seems rather alarming to me. Although a few have been removed in former years, no such great number as this have been taken before. If those who profit by this business appreciate the value of it to such an extent that they inagrate a system of reforestation, no harm will be done. But if on the other hand a similar number were removed each year, without systematic replacement, in a (illegible) reality where pines are not very plentiful, there would soon be a serious shortage. The pines, in addition to their beauty and usefulness for lumber for various purposes, form a growth which is one of the best of watersheds. Because of the scarcity of water in this valley this is an important consideration.
An even greater crime than taking young pines for Christmas trees is committed every year by careless sheepherders and others, who set fires which burnt over hundreds of acres. As fire isn’t particular what sort of fuel it has, every type of growth goes before it, including the pines and other trees; sometimes even the farmer’s hard-earned crops are burned.
Isn’t it swell to be living in the good old U.S.A. where, although we may make some mistakes in government, we still have common sense enough not to do such an uncommon place thing as to banish our first citizen and probably greatest leader, because of his desire to marry the woman of his choice?
There are many other reasons, too. That cause one to rejoice because of being a citizen of the best nation on the earth. One of them is the fact that there is a big ocean or two between us and the fireworks on the eastern hemisphere. May they always keep their distance well.
The spirit of Christmas is again abroad in the land. What a lot of good would result if we were all able to carry out the generous desires this fine spirit brings us. Some folks are eternally embarrassed because they receive gifts and cannot return them each year. Ah, if they only knew it they could make as much happiness for the giver by receiving the gift graciously, as if they were in a position to return each remembrance with one a little better. At least I am still optimistic enough to think that most people believe this saying in the Good Book: It is more blessed to give than to receive. Folks get real lasting joy from giving. But to make this Christmas happier than usual, try putting a little extra emphasis on the “thank you.”
My wish for each of you is; that you may have this year the merriest Christmas you’ve ever had enjoy health and prosperity during 1937.
January 8, 1937
Rich Whittaker was telling of an experience with one of Keogh’s wild steers. As he was walking along one day one of the long-horned critters attacked him. The only protection he could see was a rather big willow bush. By the time he reached it, the steer was right at his heels. When he had made a few turns around the bush he decided he would have to stop to consider, the steer no doubt having a kind streak in its nature, stopped too.
Thought Rick, “I don’t believe it would be any crime if I’d shoot that beast. It’s no better than any other wild animal that would attack a man.” But on second thought he decided it was too valuable an animal for him to do such a ruthless thing. So when the steer started after him again, he circled the willow a few more times. Once more when he was about to drop from exhaustion he stopped. The beast again allowed him a short breathing spell.
“By golly, I will shoot the brute.” Said Rich to himself. “But no,” he reconsidered. “Mr. Keogh has never done me any harm. I must not serve him such a trick as that.” So Rich climbed into the willow and stayed till the steer left. After telling this he asked a friend “George, what would you have done in that case?”
“I think I’d have killed the critter,” replied George.
“You bet,” answered Rich, “and so would I if I’d only had my gun along.”
January 15, 1937
It’s getting to be about time that all our New Year’s resolutions should be, according to nearly all past experience, either broken, cracked or at least very badly bent. Well, perhaps now we can go peacefully on through the remainder of 1937 without having to hear that remark which all “revolutionists” hate – “I thought you had resolved…”
It’s a sturdy and staunch soul indeed who can faithfully keep a New Year’s resolution for an entire month. My sincere and heartfelt congratulations to any of you who are still carrying on. May success finally be yours.
The mail carriers are very popular fellows in these rural districts where folks are practically snowed in for sometimes three or four months out of the year. Ever accommodating and considerate, they bring a bit of cheer to one and all. Even when he brings nothing more interesting than a price list from some fur house, the mail carrier is greeted with pleasure. On the gloomiest days when blizzards rage outside, we look forward to seeing at least this one person abroad and rarely if ever does he fail us. Occasionally one may hear a few minor complaints about the mail carrier, but never do we hear the mail carrier’s complaints about his patrons. I’d like to hear a list of them, wouldn’t you? They would no doubt be enlightening. It has been said of one man who carried mail on the route for four years that there was not the faintest murmur against him. With a reputation like that, it’s no wonder he never tries to get the job again. Not telling what might happen another time.
There is an old saying that has been repeated often: a poor man has two dogs, a darn poor on has three, and a rich man doesn’t have any. If this is true, the poverty of some folks is positively beyond description. After they’ve had the much-talked-of rabbit drive, it might be well to have a dog drive too.
January 22, 1936
Although the complaints of mail carriers are as rare as roses in January, here is one which was found “hidden among the stuff.” With apologies to the author of “Strawberry Roan.”
Mail Carrier’s Lament
I was out on my farm and a trapping coyotes
When along comes a Senator looking for votes.
Sez I, “You can have mine and all I can mail
If you’ll get me a job a hauling the mail.”
He says, “Okay, pardner, that job you may land
If you and your friends will but lend me a hand,”
Sez I, “It’s a deal.” In my jitney I hop
And I drive in to Oakley with never a stop.
“I signs up the papers and seals ‘em up tight.
Then for once in my life I sleep through the night.
But it doesn’t take long before Even I see
That some (illegible)ded a fem ….me.
The roads they are awful could rarely be worse
No words can describe then politely in verse
Every kind of mail box en sues on this route
From a blue bird’s abode to an old rubber boot.
In a big syrup can I must dig in the snow
For the flag is raised up so a letter must go
When I get to the bottom I find without fail
That nothing is there but last Friday’s mail
One guy orders freight, half a ton, less or more
He wants it delivered right up to his door
I charge him two bits, be grumbles at that
He sez “You’re a robber --- you’d steal a man’s hat.”
For a long list of groceries one fellow does send.
Says he, “We’re right out, so on you we depend
The baby needs shoes and my wife she is ill
And the doctor prescribed for her this special pill
We are needing some flour and sugar and tea
Some bags of potatoes at least two or three.
But if one of these items you’d happen to miss,
I’ve sent for Bull Durham – be sure and get this
I must trudge through a blizzard and four feet of snow
My horses so weary they scarcely can go
But I’m warmed by the thought as I plod through the cold
I’m praised for my service by both young and old.
My joy comes to naught in a very short time
For here are six letters and one measly dime
The fellow who wrote ‘em has three sections of range
And he asks me to mail them and bring him the change
Kind friends, let me tell you, this job is no snap.
For every bouquet there is many a rap
So the next time a congressman’s looking for votes
I shall stick to my farm and trapping coyotes.
January 29, 1937
“Don’t you nearly die of loneliness?” is a question that is asked of rural folks more often than any other by urbanites who visit in the country. The almost invariable reply is, “I’m too busy to get lonesome.”
“I don’t see what you can find to occupy your time.” The city dweller will remark. This amuses any farmer or farmer’s wife who can scarcely crowd, into even the longest days of the year, more than half the things that need to be done. In fact about the only time a country person ever feels lonely is when duty or pleasure takes him to the city. There, freed from the responsibilities to which he has been accustomed, the surrounded by hundreds of people, he may really be lonesome- an emotion unknown to him in his country.
In the commencement of this cold spell, when the sun arose one morning there were two very brilliant sundogs. Later in the day a huge double ring encircled the sun; and in the evening as the sun was setting the sundogs again appeared. These signs, said some of the self-appointed weather prophets, were a sure indication of severely cold weather. Well, maybe they are but it seems to me that during the summer months when similar phenomena occurred, it was claimed then that they foretold intense heat. It’s getting so that the only weather forecast one can really believe is that of the old Indian who said he knew only one sure sign of rain. “And what is that?” he was asked.
“When it’s black all around and pouring down in the middle.” He replied.
The other night when I saw a large bonfire coming up the road toward me I was startled, to say the least. However, as is the case with most mysteries, the solution to this one was simple enough. Once I had learned it. During the coldest weather we’ve ever known here, some of the boys have originated a unique method of keeping warm while riding in a sleigh. They make a fire in a galvanized tub and take plenty of wood along to keep it replenished.
An occasional intrepid flyer still dares to wing his lonely way across our wind-swept, snow-covered hills to give us just a fleeting-glimpse of the hurry, bustle and excitement of the busy world outside.
Fred Taylor and Lee Kirkpatrick showed more hardihood than most of our residents by bucking the snowdrifts to Oakley this week. Fred lost considerable weight from having to walk so much to keep warm, and so fast to keep up with Lee.
February 5, 1937
I am a hollyhock fan. When a friend said last summer, “My flower garden is a failure – nothing is blooming but the hollyhocks.” I felt sorry for her, even though my sorrow was mixed with envy. Perhaps my love of these old-fashioned flowers might be traced by a psychologist back to childhood days when I spent many happy hours at my grandmother’s, making dolls with gorgeous glowing gowns and colorful parasols from these brilliant posies.
When the earth is covered with a sparkling white blanket and the mercury is wavering from zero to way below, it’s pleasant to think of delightful summer scenes. One of the most inspiring views in summer is that which meets the eye on making the last turn on the road to Vipont mine. No matter how often I travel that road, the beauty of that wonderful landscape makes me catch my breath for sheer joy to wish that I were an artist with the ability to reproduce on canvas those beautifully molded hills and the delicate coloring of the trees and shrubbery which grace them. I wish that everyone in the world could gaze upon that inspiring scene. It would not hurt anyone and would surely do a lot of people good.
February 12, 1937
The question of whether Mr. Ground Hog saw his shadow on his annual day this year was answered most emphatically by the blizzard which has raged for the past few days. He did.
The Moulton Lynn mail was held up – but not robbed – by bad roads last week. The mail carrier left for Oakley on Wednesday as usual but because of the storm and road conditions he was unable to return until Saturday. People were beginning to fear for his safety, so when he pulled in everybody heaved a big sigh of relief. There was such a blizzard Monday that he did not even attempt to start from Lynn.
The big measles scare seems to be over, the two youngest Benson children being the only victims of the disease, now we can sing that old vaudeville chorus:
Because we’ve all had ’em. We’ve all had ‘em
Some folks turn up their nose and say, “Oh, my!”
But we’ve all had ‘em, we’ve all had ‘em.
And you who haven’t had ‘em.
You will have ‘em bye and bye.
Mr. Leavitt has needed a magnifying glass to see his school; it has been so small the past two or three weeks.
Two holidays in three days! I think February is the only month which can claim such distinction.
Today, February 12, the one hundred twenty-eighth anniversary of his birth, we do honor to one of the greatest men who ever lived – our own Abraham Lincoln. Memories of this great American are both pleasant and sad. The sorrow of course being because of his tragic and untimely death. I think all Americans love and revere him, but all too seldom to we read and ponder on his life and works. Many stories of his life have been written and one at least would be told each year by young and old. He only lived and died that “government of the people, by the people and for the people, might not perish from the earth.”
Valentine day seems to be an occasion when young folks especially send to each other such love-lade greetings as this one expressed by a picture of a young farmer with an armful of vegetables who says; “I wouldn’t carrot all to live without you, my valentine.”
Or this one. A young fellow mowing a lawn with hearts scattered all about says to his valentine, “I love you ‘mower’ each day.
February 19, 1937
Some blackbirds have spent the winter here, one pair at least becoming somewhat domesticated, so that they go into the barn and eat with the pigeons. At present the blackbirds are even tamer than the pigeons. Many birds would spend the winters here if they were provided with shelter and food. I for one would like to see some trees growing around more of the homes to help encourage our feathered friends to take up their abode here.
A good work is being done by some of the men folks here in getting rid of many of the jackrabbits, and as the rabbit skins are a good price at present, those who obtain them are paid in more ways than one. It is regrettable that others do not join in helping exterminate these pests. More than five hundred skins have been obtained by two hunters who have used some of their spare time during the past month in this manner.
Visiting the sick on skis, though probably not a new thing, is a novelty here. That was the method used recently by Mr. and Mrs. Chester butlers to reach the Joe Moon ranch where Mrs. Moon has been ill for some time.
Though the roads are very bad and the cold has been extremely sever, there is not as much snow here as last winter. Also last year, because of several warm spells, the snow settled and contained much more water than the same depth this year would have.
March 12, 1937
Mrs. Joseph Moon, who has been seriously ill for some time, accompanied her daughter Mrs. McAllister and Mr. McAllister to a Burley hospital last week. The McAllister’s came via Almo in a car as far as the mouth of Immigrant canyon. From there the snow was too deep for an automobile, so they started out on foot, but were met by Mr. Moon in a sleigh. Though Mrs. Moon has lived here but a short time she has made many friends, all of whom wish her a speedy recovery.
Mr. and Mrs. Floyd Leavitt and Lamar Bronson went to Almo on horseback to attend the gold and green ball. The Leavitts then went to Elba by motor to visit relative there. On Sunday the entire party returned with a sleigh.
Rufus Wright, with the help of Ray Roberts the mail carrier, took his turkeys to Twin Falls to sell them. George Bronson accompanied them to Burley. These folks too made use of sleighs and a car on their trip.
There seems to be fad or something for using two or three methods of transportation on each trip these days. It is hoped though that this won’t be necessary much longer: In fact, the past few days have been so warm that some are even daring to hope that spring might come eventually.
March 12, 1937
The pupils are all again in attendance at school. Many books are being toted home by reluctant youngsters who must catch up on lessons that have been missed.
A pair of blue birds are said to be building a nest in the attic of the Buller's house. Many more pairs are moving into the apartments they occupied last year.
Another sure sign of spring was noted by a Moulton resident when he saw a flock of geese flying northward over our valley.
I.R. Stowers is now visiting his daughter, Mrs. Joe Millard, and family. When Mr. Stowers was asked if he and Mrs. Stowers intend to remain in Idaho, he answered, “We couldn’t find a better place.”
LaDell Wringley, who went to Lynn, Utah, for a load of hay, found the sleigh roads not so good. The snow being gone about half the way.
(From Last week)
Blue birds, robins and blackbirds are all daring to face the wrath of that grim old tyrant, Winter, who has ruled the land for the past few months. These cheery messengers of spring keep popping up here and there in spite of an occasional furious blast by north Wind. The chief commander of King Winter’s forces.
Our school gave additional proof of the adage that good things are done up in small parcels when on Washington’s birthday, a party and program was enjoyed by a few of the parents and patrons, Although the program was one of those surprise affairs, it would have been a credit to a much larger school.
March 19, 1937
The Junction Valley
Twenty-Five Years Ago and Now
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
When the Junction valley was filed on by homesteaders about twenty to twenty-five years ago, there were fifty or more homesteads taken up on the side of the valley. The population was around one hundred eighty. For several years very intensive farming was done and nearly all available ground was cleared for raising hay and grain. The valley was almost entirely covered with well cultivated fields. Visitors were greatly impressed with the bounteous crops. Some things which were raised successfully were wheat, barley, oats, rye, flax, corn, alfalfa and sweet clover. Besides these general farm crops some excellent truck gardens were produced, these provided their owners with all sorts of vegetables. Some small fruits such as currants, gooseberries, dewberries and raspberries were grown. Mrs. Harwood canned thirty quarts of dew berries from her few bushes one year.
All this man-made beauty looked better than the original beauties of nature to most people, but alas for its permanence! Whereas nature’s grandeur had remained the same or improved probably for centuries in this wonderland, when man came he destroyed much of the natural beauty, substituting the things that he desired to make money. Then as the land, being farmed constantly and sometimes unwisely, ceased to produce as much as some would have liked, they, instead of blaming themselves, condemned the country and left.
Many of the things which nature had placed here in such rich abundance had been destroyed. Weeds, brought mostly by man, along with some of the more hardy natural plants took the place of the beautiful fields of hay and grain. Now only a few families remain and a comparatively small amount of the land is under cultivation; most of the remainder produces abundant crops of sage brush, Russian thistle, June grass, lots of native plants, and jackrabbits. It would if given the chance bring f forth a variety of the growths which helped to make this a haven of peace and beauty. Man if he would have it restored must help to replace some of the plants, but he would, if he did so, be amply repaid for every bit of effort put forth in this direction.
Hash
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
November 6, 1936
Say, it was indeed generous and kind of the Democrats that they did not, as one commentator stated, “gloat over the poor Republicans”. Perhaps the “poor Republicans don’t understand the meaning of that word, “gloat.”
Well, now that the big excitement has subsided, we can settle back to normal and continue the routine of living much the same as usual, with hopes for a bright future. Next Friday is the 13th, a combination that creates a hoodoo for lots of superstitious folks. A friend of mine once had a flock of turkeys, and when she set them she numbered them consecutively one, two, three, etc. When it came to number thirteen she would leave that out, instead giving them the distinction, twelve one, twelve two, fourteen and so on. If I remember correctly, when hatching time arrived number twelve two hatched not a single egg and twelve one sat on her next and starved to death. Instead of convincing my friend that there was really nothing in the thirteen superstition, she was only more sure that the unlucky number had been the ruin of both turkeys.
So if you think thirteen and Friday are unlucky, I’d advise you not to let any black cats pass in front of you, don’t walk under any ladders, and it might be well to carry a rabbit’s foot on that day at least.
An old gentleman who used to live in this part of the country had for years worn a heard. Finally he decided to shave, so one day a friend met him and after staring at his face he remarked rather rudely:
“Well, sir isn’t it surprising how much ugliness a beard can cover up.”
I thought of that when a fresh sparkling blanket of snow covered the barren ugliness which Jack Frost has left in his wake for a few days.
Friday, November 13, 1936
Although Armistice Day will be passed by the time you read this, it will not hurt any of us to recall that important event. Those of us who are old enough remember those hectic days during the war when our best orators in stirring terms appealed to the patriotism of the citizens of the united States; urging them to send their finest young men far across the ocean, to fight in a war in which we should have had no more interest than we have in the present European conflict. But the boys went gaily and jauntily while we cheered them on. Only those who had sons, husbands of brothers at the front know with what fear and anxiety the casualty lists were searched each day and only those who experienced it know the heart-rending anguish that came with the finding of the name of a loved one in the list of dead or missing. How happy we were on that autumn day in 1918 when we heard that on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month hostilities would cease. Remember the joy when the boys returned; the sorrow for those who remained on Flanders Field; and those who came back maimed or crippled. Strange that time should so soon erase these things from our memories and that they are so seldom mentioned that a ten-year-old child has to ask (as one asked me recently) “What is Armistice day?”
This has been National Education week and it is said that thousands of parents would visit the public schools this week. Doubtless other thousands never think to visit the schools where their children receive their education, during this week or any other week. Teachers should invite the parents of the pupils to visit the school twice or three times during the school term and parents should accept those invitations. You are likely to learn more about the progress of your child in one visit than the report cards you ever read could tell you. And incidentally, we might absorb some of the information that is being dispensed to our children- which probably wouldn’t hurt any of us.
A couple of years ago it seemed to me that the word “thrill” was being overworked. So when our five-year-old daughter used it to describe some excitement she’d had, I thought it was time to find out if she knew what it meant so I said, What is a thrill Georgie?”
(Illegible)
(Note from Lollie, If you know the rest of the story, please post!!! I'm dying to know the cute little retort from my Aunt Georgie!)
November 20, 1936
If a new highway is built through our valley via the old Immigrant canyon, I wonder if any of us who travel that route occasionally will be alive to enjoy the luxury of riding on it. We certainly won’t if we persist in traveling on that road as it now is. Those old timers who traveled that way long ago and who were in fear of being ambushed by the Indians were in but a little more danger. They merely faced the possibility of losing their scalps while their modern descendants risk being shaken into a million pieces.
There is, near the spot where the old City of Rocks stage station stood, an ideal place for a dude ranch, tourist cabins, etc. A spring which does not dry up makes water available at all times This land, which is owned at present by Charles Johnston, will someday, if a highway is built through it, help its owner to make a small fortune.
As soon as hay fever season is over, it seems that the cold-catching season is in; so that, for some folks, life is just one big sneeze after another.
November 27, 1936
While stuffing yourself with stuffed turkey on Thanksgiving Day did you (illegible)___ pause to think of how many (illegible)_____ you had to be thankful for? It would not hurt any of us. In fact it would be profitable to stop and reflect much oftener than once a year on the many causes we have for Thanksgiving. Take friendship for just one example: What would you take for the confidence and esteem of your friends. Of course you can place no price on them for they are invaluable.
There should be some law. If only the law of human kindness, to compel trappers to visit their traps daily. Many valuable domestic animals are crippled and killed each year by being caught and held in traps, sometimes for days. It is pitiful to see good dogs or sheep with a foot missing. And no conscientious person would use those horrible devices of torture with diamond teeth which invariably cause the death of any poor animal they chance to catch. Even the wily coyote, for which I have no love at all, deserves a kinder death than that.
It is interesting to see how some people (perhaps all of us) imagine they are hurrying when standing with a door open. They will stand and talk for an hour with the door ajar whereby if you asked them to step in and shut the door they just would have time. This characteristic is especially noticeable in the winter time. In fact they’re likely to act just contrary in the summer, and step inside closing the door very carefully when it’s a hundred and ten in the shade.
December 4, 1936
Well! Well! What strange sights one will see at times! The other day in Burley I saw a big Indian chief in full regalia, including a headdress of brilliant feathers, who was driving a large, shiny new auto. He was doing it very efficiently, too, as Indians seem to do almost everything they undertake.
Have you ever heard of the River of Rocks in Junction Valley? No? Well neither had I till a young lady from Lynn described it to me recently. This strange phenomenon of nature is located about two miles from Raymond Lind’s place. I intend to see this rare formation next spring when nature is at its best. Then if you haven’t seen it first perhaps I’ll try to tell you about it in more detail.
The road between our valley and Almo has at last been given a fitting name by one of our residents. The title is Forgotten Road. Upon first thought I could not recall that any work had ever been done on this road, but by questioning other residents with better memories it was found that at one time we actually had a road supervisor here- strange as this may seem to some of us now- and has made some changes and some much needed improvements in the road then. This credit is due Gordon Edwards who was the said supervisor when he lived among us. However all traces of any improvements have been erased by time and erosion. Last summer some tourists stopped to inquire the route to City of Rocks. They said if the rest of the road was as bad as that over which they had come from Oakley, they believed they would turn around and go back. Well if one were truthful he could but admit it was ten times worse. But far be it from any of us to be the cause of any one’s missing the thrill of seeing that wonderful city for the first time, so of course on such occasions very little is said about road conditions, and a great deal about the marvelous sights at the end of the road.
December 25 1936
The report that more than three thousand young pines were taken from our valley for Christmas trees this year, seems rather alarming to me. Although a few have been removed in former years, no such great number as this have been taken before. If those who profit by this business appreciate the value of it to such an extent that they inagrate a system of reforestation, no harm will be done. But if on the other hand a similar number were removed each year, without systematic replacement, in a (illegible) reality where pines are not very plentiful, there would soon be a serious shortage. The pines, in addition to their beauty and usefulness for lumber for various purposes, form a growth which is one of the best of watersheds. Because of the scarcity of water in this valley this is an important consideration.
An even greater crime than taking young pines for Christmas trees is committed every year by careless sheepherders and others, who set fires which burnt over hundreds of acres. As fire isn’t particular what sort of fuel it has, every type of growth goes before it, including the pines and other trees; sometimes even the farmer’s hard-earned crops are burned.
Isn’t it swell to be living in the good old U.S.A. where, although we may make some mistakes in government, we still have common sense enough not to do such an uncommon place thing as to banish our first citizen and probably greatest leader, because of his desire to marry the woman of his choice?
There are many other reasons, too. That cause one to rejoice because of being a citizen of the best nation on the earth. One of them is the fact that there is a big ocean or two between us and the fireworks on the eastern hemisphere. May they always keep their distance well.
The spirit of Christmas is again abroad in the land. What a lot of good would result if we were all able to carry out the generous desires this fine spirit brings us. Some folks are eternally embarrassed because they receive gifts and cannot return them each year. Ah, if they only knew it they could make as much happiness for the giver by receiving the gift graciously, as if they were in a position to return each remembrance with one a little better. At least I am still optimistic enough to think that most people believe this saying in the Good Book: It is more blessed to give than to receive. Folks get real lasting joy from giving. But to make this Christmas happier than usual, try putting a little extra emphasis on the “thank you.”
My wish for each of you is; that you may have this year the merriest Christmas you’ve ever had enjoy health and prosperity during 1937.
January 8, 1937
Rich Whittaker was telling of an experience with one of Keogh’s wild steers. As he was walking along one day one of the long-horned critters attacked him. The only protection he could see was a rather big willow bush. By the time he reached it, the steer was right at his heels. When he had made a few turns around the bush he decided he would have to stop to consider, the steer no doubt having a kind streak in its nature, stopped too.
Thought Rick, “I don’t believe it would be any crime if I’d shoot that beast. It’s no better than any other wild animal that would attack a man.” But on second thought he decided it was too valuable an animal for him to do such a ruthless thing. So when the steer started after him again, he circled the willow a few more times. Once more when he was about to drop from exhaustion he stopped. The beast again allowed him a short breathing spell.
“By golly, I will shoot the brute.” Said Rich to himself. “But no,” he reconsidered. “Mr. Keogh has never done me any harm. I must not serve him such a trick as that.” So Rich climbed into the willow and stayed till the steer left. After telling this he asked a friend “George, what would you have done in that case?”
“I think I’d have killed the critter,” replied George.
“You bet,” answered Rich, “and so would I if I’d only had my gun along.”
January 15, 1937
It’s getting to be about time that all our New Year’s resolutions should be, according to nearly all past experience, either broken, cracked or at least very badly bent. Well, perhaps now we can go peacefully on through the remainder of 1937 without having to hear that remark which all “revolutionists” hate – “I thought you had resolved…”
It’s a sturdy and staunch soul indeed who can faithfully keep a New Year’s resolution for an entire month. My sincere and heartfelt congratulations to any of you who are still carrying on. May success finally be yours.
The mail carriers are very popular fellows in these rural districts where folks are practically snowed in for sometimes three or four months out of the year. Ever accommodating and considerate, they bring a bit of cheer to one and all. Even when he brings nothing more interesting than a price list from some fur house, the mail carrier is greeted with pleasure. On the gloomiest days when blizzards rage outside, we look forward to seeing at least this one person abroad and rarely if ever does he fail us. Occasionally one may hear a few minor complaints about the mail carrier, but never do we hear the mail carrier’s complaints about his patrons. I’d like to hear a list of them, wouldn’t you? They would no doubt be enlightening. It has been said of one man who carried mail on the route for four years that there was not the faintest murmur against him. With a reputation like that, it’s no wonder he never tries to get the job again. Not telling what might happen another time.
There is an old saying that has been repeated often: a poor man has two dogs, a darn poor on has three, and a rich man doesn’t have any. If this is true, the poverty of some folks is positively beyond description. After they’ve had the much-talked-of rabbit drive, it might be well to have a dog drive too.
January 22, 1936
Although the complaints of mail carriers are as rare as roses in January, here is one which was found “hidden among the stuff.” With apologies to the author of “Strawberry Roan.”
Mail Carrier’s Lament
I was out on my farm and a trapping coyotes
When along comes a Senator looking for votes.
Sez I, “You can have mine and all I can mail
If you’ll get me a job a hauling the mail.”
He says, “Okay, pardner, that job you may land
If you and your friends will but lend me a hand,”
Sez I, “It’s a deal.” In my jitney I hop
And I drive in to Oakley with never a stop.
“I signs up the papers and seals ‘em up tight.
Then for once in my life I sleep through the night.
But it doesn’t take long before Even I see
That some (illegible)ded a fem ….me.
The roads they are awful could rarely be worse
No words can describe then politely in verse
Every kind of mail box en sues on this route
From a blue bird’s abode to an old rubber boot.
In a big syrup can I must dig in the snow
For the flag is raised up so a letter must go
When I get to the bottom I find without fail
That nothing is there but last Friday’s mail
One guy orders freight, half a ton, less or more
He wants it delivered right up to his door
I charge him two bits, be grumbles at that
He sez “You’re a robber --- you’d steal a man’s hat.”
For a long list of groceries one fellow does send.
Says he, “We’re right out, so on you we depend
The baby needs shoes and my wife she is ill
And the doctor prescribed for her this special pill
We are needing some flour and sugar and tea
Some bags of potatoes at least two or three.
But if one of these items you’d happen to miss,
I’ve sent for Bull Durham – be sure and get this
I must trudge through a blizzard and four feet of snow
My horses so weary they scarcely can go
But I’m warmed by the thought as I plod through the cold
I’m praised for my service by both young and old.
My joy comes to naught in a very short time
For here are six letters and one measly dime
The fellow who wrote ‘em has three sections of range
And he asks me to mail them and bring him the change
Kind friends, let me tell you, this job is no snap.
For every bouquet there is many a rap
So the next time a congressman’s looking for votes
I shall stick to my farm and trapping coyotes.
January 29, 1937
“Don’t you nearly die of loneliness?” is a question that is asked of rural folks more often than any other by urbanites who visit in the country. The almost invariable reply is, “I’m too busy to get lonesome.”
“I don’t see what you can find to occupy your time.” The city dweller will remark. This amuses any farmer or farmer’s wife who can scarcely crowd, into even the longest days of the year, more than half the things that need to be done. In fact about the only time a country person ever feels lonely is when duty or pleasure takes him to the city. There, freed from the responsibilities to which he has been accustomed, the surrounded by hundreds of people, he may really be lonesome- an emotion unknown to him in his country.
In the commencement of this cold spell, when the sun arose one morning there were two very brilliant sundogs. Later in the day a huge double ring encircled the sun; and in the evening as the sun was setting the sundogs again appeared. These signs, said some of the self-appointed weather prophets, were a sure indication of severely cold weather. Well, maybe they are but it seems to me that during the summer months when similar phenomena occurred, it was claimed then that they foretold intense heat. It’s getting so that the only weather forecast one can really believe is that of the old Indian who said he knew only one sure sign of rain. “And what is that?” he was asked.
“When it’s black all around and pouring down in the middle.” He replied.
The other night when I saw a large bonfire coming up the road toward me I was startled, to say the least. However, as is the case with most mysteries, the solution to this one was simple enough. Once I had learned it. During the coldest weather we’ve ever known here, some of the boys have originated a unique method of keeping warm while riding in a sleigh. They make a fire in a galvanized tub and take plenty of wood along to keep it replenished.
An occasional intrepid flyer still dares to wing his lonely way across our wind-swept, snow-covered hills to give us just a fleeting-glimpse of the hurry, bustle and excitement of the busy world outside.
Fred Taylor and Lee Kirkpatrick showed more hardihood than most of our residents by bucking the snowdrifts to Oakley this week. Fred lost considerable weight from having to walk so much to keep warm, and so fast to keep up with Lee.
February 5, 1937
I am a hollyhock fan. When a friend said last summer, “My flower garden is a failure – nothing is blooming but the hollyhocks.” I felt sorry for her, even though my sorrow was mixed with envy. Perhaps my love of these old-fashioned flowers might be traced by a psychologist back to childhood days when I spent many happy hours at my grandmother’s, making dolls with gorgeous glowing gowns and colorful parasols from these brilliant posies.
When the earth is covered with a sparkling white blanket and the mercury is wavering from zero to way below, it’s pleasant to think of delightful summer scenes. One of the most inspiring views in summer is that which meets the eye on making the last turn on the road to Vipont mine. No matter how often I travel that road, the beauty of that wonderful landscape makes me catch my breath for sheer joy to wish that I were an artist with the ability to reproduce on canvas those beautifully molded hills and the delicate coloring of the trees and shrubbery which grace them. I wish that everyone in the world could gaze upon that inspiring scene. It would not hurt anyone and would surely do a lot of people good.
February 12, 1937
The question of whether Mr. Ground Hog saw his shadow on his annual day this year was answered most emphatically by the blizzard which has raged for the past few days. He did.
The Moulton Lynn mail was held up – but not robbed – by bad roads last week. The mail carrier left for Oakley on Wednesday as usual but because of the storm and road conditions he was unable to return until Saturday. People were beginning to fear for his safety, so when he pulled in everybody heaved a big sigh of relief. There was such a blizzard Monday that he did not even attempt to start from Lynn.
The big measles scare seems to be over, the two youngest Benson children being the only victims of the disease, now we can sing that old vaudeville chorus:
Because we’ve all had ’em. We’ve all had ‘em
Some folks turn up their nose and say, “Oh, my!”
But we’ve all had ‘em, we’ve all had ‘em.
And you who haven’t had ‘em.
You will have ‘em bye and bye.
Mr. Leavitt has needed a magnifying glass to see his school; it has been so small the past two or three weeks.
Two holidays in three days! I think February is the only month which can claim such distinction.
Today, February 12, the one hundred twenty-eighth anniversary of his birth, we do honor to one of the greatest men who ever lived – our own Abraham Lincoln. Memories of this great American are both pleasant and sad. The sorrow of course being because of his tragic and untimely death. I think all Americans love and revere him, but all too seldom to we read and ponder on his life and works. Many stories of his life have been written and one at least would be told each year by young and old. He only lived and died that “government of the people, by the people and for the people, might not perish from the earth.”
Valentine day seems to be an occasion when young folks especially send to each other such love-lade greetings as this one expressed by a picture of a young farmer with an armful of vegetables who says; “I wouldn’t carrot all to live without you, my valentine.”
Or this one. A young fellow mowing a lawn with hearts scattered all about says to his valentine, “I love you ‘mower’ each day.
February 19, 1937
Some blackbirds have spent the winter here, one pair at least becoming somewhat domesticated, so that they go into the barn and eat with the pigeons. At present the blackbirds are even tamer than the pigeons. Many birds would spend the winters here if they were provided with shelter and food. I for one would like to see some trees growing around more of the homes to help encourage our feathered friends to take up their abode here.
A good work is being done by some of the men folks here in getting rid of many of the jackrabbits, and as the rabbit skins are a good price at present, those who obtain them are paid in more ways than one. It is regrettable that others do not join in helping exterminate these pests. More than five hundred skins have been obtained by two hunters who have used some of their spare time during the past month in this manner.
Visiting the sick on skis, though probably not a new thing, is a novelty here. That was the method used recently by Mr. and Mrs. Chester butlers to reach the Joe Moon ranch where Mrs. Moon has been ill for some time.
Though the roads are very bad and the cold has been extremely sever, there is not as much snow here as last winter. Also last year, because of several warm spells, the snow settled and contained much more water than the same depth this year would have.
March 12, 1937
Mrs. Joseph Moon, who has been seriously ill for some time, accompanied her daughter Mrs. McAllister and Mr. McAllister to a Burley hospital last week. The McAllister’s came via Almo in a car as far as the mouth of Immigrant canyon. From there the snow was too deep for an automobile, so they started out on foot, but were met by Mr. Moon in a sleigh. Though Mrs. Moon has lived here but a short time she has made many friends, all of whom wish her a speedy recovery.
Mr. and Mrs. Floyd Leavitt and Lamar Bronson went to Almo on horseback to attend the gold and green ball. The Leavitts then went to Elba by motor to visit relative there. On Sunday the entire party returned with a sleigh.
Rufus Wright, with the help of Ray Roberts the mail carrier, took his turkeys to Twin Falls to sell them. George Bronson accompanied them to Burley. These folks too made use of sleighs and a car on their trip.
There seems to be fad or something for using two or three methods of transportation on each trip these days. It is hoped though that this won’t be necessary much longer: In fact, the past few days have been so warm that some are even daring to hope that spring might come eventually.
March 12, 1937
The pupils are all again in attendance at school. Many books are being toted home by reluctant youngsters who must catch up on lessons that have been missed.
A pair of blue birds are said to be building a nest in the attic of the Buller's house. Many more pairs are moving into the apartments they occupied last year.
Another sure sign of spring was noted by a Moulton resident when he saw a flock of geese flying northward over our valley.
I.R. Stowers is now visiting his daughter, Mrs. Joe Millard, and family. When Mr. Stowers was asked if he and Mrs. Stowers intend to remain in Idaho, he answered, “We couldn’t find a better place.”
LaDell Wringley, who went to Lynn, Utah, for a load of hay, found the sleigh roads not so good. The snow being gone about half the way.
(From Last week)
Blue birds, robins and blackbirds are all daring to face the wrath of that grim old tyrant, Winter, who has ruled the land for the past few months. These cheery messengers of spring keep popping up here and there in spite of an occasional furious blast by north Wind. The chief commander of King Winter’s forces.
Our school gave additional proof of the adage that good things are done up in small parcels when on Washington’s birthday, a party and program was enjoyed by a few of the parents and patrons, Although the program was one of those surprise affairs, it would have been a credit to a much larger school.
March 19, 1937
The Junction Valley
Twenty-Five Years Ago and Now
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
When the Junction valley was filed on by homesteaders about twenty to twenty-five years ago, there were fifty or more homesteads taken up on the side of the valley. The population was around one hundred eighty. For several years very intensive farming was done and nearly all available ground was cleared for raising hay and grain. The valley was almost entirely covered with well cultivated fields. Visitors were greatly impressed with the bounteous crops. Some things which were raised successfully were wheat, barley, oats, rye, flax, corn, alfalfa and sweet clover. Besides these general farm crops some excellent truck gardens were produced, these provided their owners with all sorts of vegetables. Some small fruits such as currants, gooseberries, dewberries and raspberries were grown. Mrs. Harwood canned thirty quarts of dew berries from her few bushes one year.
All this man-made beauty looked better than the original beauties of nature to most people, but alas for its permanence! Whereas nature’s grandeur had remained the same or improved probably for centuries in this wonderland, when man came he destroyed much of the natural beauty, substituting the things that he desired to make money. Then as the land, being farmed constantly and sometimes unwisely, ceased to produce as much as some would have liked, they, instead of blaming themselves, condemned the country and left.
Many of the things which nature had placed here in such rich abundance had been destroyed. Weeds, brought mostly by man, along with some of the more hardy natural plants took the place of the beautiful fields of hay and grain. Now only a few families remain and a comparatively small amount of the land is under cultivation; most of the remainder produces abundant crops of sage brush, Russian thistle, June grass, lots of native plants, and jackrabbits. It would if given the chance bring f forth a variety of the growths which helped to make this a haven of peace and beauty. Man if he would have it restored must help to replace some of the plants, but he would, if he did so, be amply repaid for every bit of effort put forth in this direction.
Lou Ella Jones Bronson
Over a year ago, My Uncle Simon handed me a book of remembrance and asked me if I wanted to type it up. It contained photocopied pages of the column and other newspaper articles my Grandma Bronson wrote for the local newspaper in Junction Valley. The name of the column changed periodically. Here is the first several months of the column when Grandma called it 'Hash':
Hash
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
November 6, 1936
Say, it was indeed generous and kind of the Democrats that they did not, as one commentator stated, “gloat over the poor Republicans”. Perhaps the “poor Republicans don’t understand the meaning of that word, “gloat.”
Well, now that the big excitement has subsided, we can settle back to normal and continue the routine of living much the same as usual, with hopes for a bright future. Next Friday is the 13th, a combination that creates a hoodoo for lots of superstitious folks. A friend of mine once had a flock of turkeys, and when she set them she numbered them consecutively one, two, three, etc. When it came to number thirteen she would leave that out, instead giving them the distinction, twelve one, twelve two, fourteen and so on. If I remember correctly, when hatching time arrived number twelve two hatched not a single egg and twelve one sat on her next and starved to death. Instead of convincing my friend that there was really nothing in the thirteen superstition, she was only more sure that the unlucky number had been the ruin of both turkeys.
So if you think thirteen and Friday are unlucky, I’d advise you not to let any black cats pass in front of you, don’t walk under any ladders, and it might be well to carry a rabbit’s foot on that day at least.
An old gentleman who used to live in this part of the country had for years worn a heard. Finally he decided to shave, so one day a friend met him and after staring at his face he remarked rather rudely:
“Well, sir isn’t it surprising how much ugliness a beard can cover up.”
I thought of that when a fresh sparkling blanket of snow covered the barren ugliness which Jack Frost has left in his wake for a few days.
Friday, November 13, 1936
Although Armistice Day will be passed by the time you read this, it will not hurt any of us to recall that important event. Those of us who are old enough remember those hectic days during the war when our best orators in stirring terms appealed to the patriotism of the citizens of the united States; urging them to send their finest young men far across the ocean, to fight in a war in which we should have had no more interest than we have in the present European conflict. But the boys went gaily and jauntily while we cheered them on. Only those who had sons, husbands of brothers at the front know with what fear and anxiety the casualty lists were searched each day and only those who experienced it know the heart-rending anguish that came with the finding of the name of a loved one in the list of dead or missing. How happy we were on that autumn day in 1918 when we heard that on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month hostilities would cease.
Remember the joy when the boys returned; the sorrow for those who remained on Flanders Field; and those who came back maimed or crippled. Strange that time should so soon erase these things from our memories and that they are so seldom mentioned that a ten-year-old child has to ask (as one asked me recently) “What is Armistice day?”
This has been National Education week and it is said that thousands of parents would visit the public schools this week. Doubtless other thousands never think to visit the schools where their children receive their education, during this week or any other week. Teachers should invite the parents of the pupils to visit the school twice or three times during the school term and parents should accept those invitations. You are likely to learn more about the progress of your child in one visit than the report cards you ever read could tell you. And incidentally, we might absorb some of the information that is being dispensed to our children- which probably wouldn’t hurt any of us.
A couple of years ago it seemed to me that the word “thrill” was being overworked. So when our five-year-old daughter used it to describe some excitement she’d had, I thought it was time to find out if she knew what it meant so I said, What is a thrill Georgie?”
(Illegible)
November 20, 1936
If a new highway is built through our valley via the old Immigrant canyon, I wonder if any of us who travel that route occasionally will be alive to enjoy the luxury of riding on it. We certainly won’t if we persist in traveling on that road as it now is. Those old timers who traveled that way long ago and who were in fear of being ambushed by the Indians were in but a little more danger. They merely faced the possibility of losing their scalps while their modern descendants risk being shaken into a million pieces.
There is, near the spot where the old City of Rocks stage station stood, an ideal place for a dude ranch, tourist cabins, etc. A spring which does not dry up makes water available at all times This land, which is owned at present by Charles Johnston, will someday, if a highway is built through it, help its owner to make a small fortune.
As soon as hay fever season is over, it seems that the cold-catching season is in; so that, for some folks, life is just one big sneeze after another.
November 27, 1936
While stuffing yourself with stuffed turkey on Thanksgiving Day did you (illegible)___ pause to think of how many (illegible)_____ you had to be thankful for? It would not hurt any of us. In fact it would be profitable to stop and reflect much oftener than once a year on the many causes we have for Thanksgiving. Take friendship for just one example: What would you take for the confidence and esteem of your friends. Of course you can place no price on them for they are invaluable.
There should be some law. If only the law of human kindness, to compel trappers to visit their traps daily. Many valuable domestic animals are crippled and killed each year by being caught and held in traps, sometimes for days. It is pitiful to see good dogs or sheep with a foot missing. And no conscientious person would use those horrible devices of torture with diamond teeth which invariably cause the death of any poor animal they chance to catch. Even the wily coyote, for which I have no love at all, deserves a kinder death than that.
It is interesting to see how some people (perhaps all of us) imagine they are hurrying when standing with a door open. They will stand and talk for an hour with the door ajar whereby if you asked them to step in and shut the door they just would have time. This characteristic is especially noticeable in the winter time. In fact they’re likely to act just contrary in the summer, and step inside closing the door very carefully when it’s a hundred and ten in the shade.
December 4, 1936
Well! Well! What strange sights one will see at times! The other day in Burley I saw a big Indian chief in full regalia, including a headdress of brilliant feathers, who was driving a large, shiny new auto. He was doing it very efficiently, too, as Indians seem to do almost everything they undertake.
Have you ever heard of the River of Rocks in Junction Valley? No? Well neither had I till a young lady from Lynn described it to me recently. This strange phenomenon of nature is located about two miles from Raymond Lind’s place. I intend to see this rare formation next spring when nature is at its best. Then if you haven’t seen it first perhaps I’ll try to tell you about it in more detail.
The road between our valley and Almo has at last been given a fitting name by one of our residents. The title is Forgotten Road. Upon first thought I could not recall that any work had ever been done on this road, but by questioning other residents with better memories it was found that at one time we actually had a road supervisor here- strange as this may seem to some of us now- and has made some changes and some much needed improvements in the road then. This credit is due Gordon Edwards who was the said supervisor when he lived among us. However all traces of any improvements have been erased by time and erosion. Last summer some tourists stopped to inquire the route to City of Rocks. They said if the rest of the road was as bad as that over which they had come from Oakley, they believed they would turn around and go back. Well if one were truthful he could but admit it was ten times worse. But far be it from any of us to be the cause of any one’s missing the thrill of seeing that wonderful city for the first time, so of course on such occasions very little is said about road conditions, and a great deal about the marvelous sights at the end of the road.
December 25 1936
The report that more than three thousand young pines were taken from our valley for Christmas trees this year, seems rather alarming to me. Although a few have been removed in former years, no such great number as this have been taken before. If those who profit by this business appreciate the value of it to such an extent that they inagrate a system of reforestation, no harm will be done. But if on the other hand a similar number were removed each year, without systematic replacement, in a (illegible) reality where pines are not very plentiful, there would soon be a serious shortage. The pines, in addition to their beauty and usefulness for lumber for various purposes, form a growth which is one of the best of watersheds. Because of the scarcity of water in this valley this is an important consideration.
An even greater crime than taking young pines for Christmas trees is committed every year by careless sheepherders and others, who set fires which burnt over hundreds of acres. As fire isn’t particular what sort of fuel it has, every type of growth goes before it, including the pines and other trees; sometimes even the farmer’s hard-earned crops are burned.
Isn’t it swell to be living in the good old U.S.A. where, although we may make some mistakes in government, we still have common sense enough not to do such an uncommon place thing as to banish our first citizen and probably greatest leader, because of his desire to marry the woman of his choice?
There are many other reasons, too. That cause one to rejoice because of being a citizen of the best nation on the earth. One of them is the fact that there is a big ocean or two between us and the fireworks on the eastern hemisphere. May they always keep their distance well.
The spirit of Christmas is again abroad in the land. What a lot of good would result if we were all able to carry out the generous desires this fine spirit brings us. Some folks are eternally embarrassed because they receive gifts and cannot return them each year. Ah, if they only knew it they could make as much happiness for the giver by receiving the gift graciously, as if they were in a position to return each remembrance with one a little better. At least I am still optimistic enough to think that most people believe this saying in the Good Book: It is more blessed to give than to receive. Folks get real lasting joy from giving. But to make this Christmas happier than usual, try putting a little extra emphasis on the “thank you.”
My wish for each of you is; that you may have this year the merriest Christmas you’ve ever had enjoy health and prosperity during 1937.
January 8, 1937
Rich Whittaker was telling of an experience with one of Keogh’s wild steers. As he was walking along one day one of the long-horned critters attacked him. The only protection he could see was a rather big willow bush. By the time he reached it, the steer was right at his heels. When he had made a few turns around the bush he decided he would have to stop to consider, the steer no doubt having a kind streak in its nature, stopped too.
Thought Rick, “I don’t believe it would be any crime if I’d shoot that beast. It’s no better than any other wild animal that would attack a man.” But on second thought he decided it was too valuable an animal for him to do such a ruthless thing. So when the steer started after him again, he circled the willow a few more times. Once more when he was about to drop from exhaustion he stopped. The beast again allowed him a short breathing spell.
“By golly, I will shoot the brute.” Said Rich to himself. “But no,” he reconsidered. “Mr. Keogh has never done me any harm. I must not serve him such a trick as that.” So Rich climbed into the willow and stayed till the steer left. After telling this he asked a friend “George, what would you have done in that case?”
“I think I’d have killed the critter,” replied George.
“You bet,” answered Rich, “and so would I if I’d only had my gun along.”
January 15, 1937
It’s getting to be about time that all our New Year’s resolutions should be, according to nearly all past experience, either broken, cracked or at least very badly bent. Well, perhaps now we can go peacefully on through the remainder of 1937 without having to hear that remark which all “revolutionists” hate – “I thought you had resolved…”
It’s a sturdy and staunch soul indeed who can faithfully keep a New Year’s resolution for an entire month. My sincere and heartfelt congratulations to any of you who are still carrying on. May success finally be yours.
The mail carriers are very popular fellows in these rural districts where folks are practically snowed in for sometimes three or four months out of the year. Ever accommodating and considerate, they bring a bit of cheer to one and all. Even when he brings nothing more interesting than a price list from some fur house, the mail carrier is greeted with pleasure. On the gloomiest days when blizzards rage outside, we look forward to seeing at least this one person abroad and rarely if ever does he fail us. Occasionally one may hear a few minor complaints about the mail carrier, but never do we hear the mail carrier’s complaints about his patrons. I’d like to hear a list of them, wouldn’t you? They would no doubt be enlightening. It has been said of one man who carried mail on the route for four years that there was not the faintest murmur against him. With a reputation like that, it’s no wonder he never tries to get the job again. Not telling what might happen another time.
There is an old saying that has been repeated often: a poor man has two dogs, a darn poor on has three, and a rich man doesn’t have any. If this is true, the poverty of some folks is positively beyond description. After they’ve had the much-talked-of rabbit drive, it might be well to have a dog drive too.
January 22, 1936
Although the complaints of mail carriers are as rare as roses in January, here is one which was found “hidden among the stuff.” With apologies to the author of “Strawberry Roan.”
Mail Carrier’s Lament
I was out on my farm and a trapping coyotes
When along comes a Senator looking for votes.
Sez I, “You can have mine and all I can mail
If you’ll get me a job a hauling the mail.”
He says, “Okay, pardner, that job you may land
If you and your friends will but lend me a hand,”
Sez I, “It’s a deal.” In my jitney I hop
And I drive in to Oakley with never a stop.
“I signs up the papers and seals ‘em up tight.
Then for once in my life I sleep through the night.
But it doesn’t take long before Even I see
That some (illegible)ded a fem ….me.
The roads they are awful could rarely be worse
No words can describe then politely in verse
Every kind of mail box en sues on this route
From a blue bird’s abode to an old rubber boot.
In a big syrup can I must dig in the snow
For the flag is raised up so a letter must go
When I get to the bottom I find without fail
That nothing is there but last Friday’s mail
One guy orders freight, half a ton, less or more
He wants it delivered right up to his door
I charge him two bits, be grumbles at that
He sez “You’re a robber --- you’d steal a man’s hat.”
For a long list of groceries one fellow does send.
Says he, “We’re right out, so on you we depend
The baby needs shoes and my wife she is ill
And the doctor prescribed for her this special pill
We are needing some flour and sugar and tea
Some bags of potatoes at least two or three.
But if one of these items you’d happen to miss,
I’ve sent for Bull Durham – be sure and get this
I must trudge through a blizzard and four feet of snow
My horses so weary they scarcely can go
But I’m warmed by the thought as I plod through the cold
I’m praised for my service by both young and old.
My joy comes to naught in a very short time
For here are six letters and one measly dime
The fellow who wrote ‘em has three sections of range
And he asks me to mail them and bring him the change
Kind friends, let me tell you, this job is no snap.
For every bouquet there is many a rap
So the next time a congressman’s looking for votes
I shall stick to my farm and trapping coyotes.
January 29, 1937
“Don’t you nearly die of loneliness?” is a question that is asked of rural folks more often than any other by urbanites who visit in the country. The almost invariable reply is, “I’m too busy to get lonesome.”
“I don’t see what you can find to occupy your time.” The city dweller will remark. This amuses any farmer or farmer’s wife who can scarcely crowd, into even the longest days of the year, more than half the things that need to be done. In fact about the only time a country person ever feels lonely is when duty or pleasure takes him to the city. There, freed from the responsibilities to which he has been accustomed, the surrounded by hundreds of people, he may really be lonesome- an emotion unknown to him in his country.
In the commencement of this cold spell, when the sun arose one morning there were two very brilliant sundogs. Later in the day a huge double ring encircled the sun; and in the evening as the sun was setting the sundogs again appeared. These signs, said some of the self-appointed weather prophets, were a sure indication of severely cold weather. Well, maybe they are but it seems to me that during the summer months when similar phenomena occurred, it was claimed then that they foretold intense heat. It’s getting so that the only weather forecast one can really believe is that of the old Indian who said he knew only one sure sign of rain. “And what is that?” he was asked
“When it’s black all around and pouring down in the middle.” He replied.
The other night when I saw a large bonfire coming up the road toward me I was startled, to say the least. However, as is the case with most mysteries, the solution to this one was simple enough. Once I had learned it. During the coldest weather we’ve ever known here, some of the boys have originated a unique method of keeping warm while riding in a sleigh. They make a fire in a galvanized tub and take plenty of wood along to keep it replenished.
An occasional intrepid flyer still dares to wing his lonely way across our wind-swept, snow-covered hills to give us just a fleeting-glimpse of the hurry, bustle and excitement of the busy world outside.
Fred Taylor and Lee Kirkpatrick showed more hardihood than most of our residents by bucking the snowdrifts to Oakley this week. Fred lost considerable weight from having to walk so much to keep warm, and so fast to keep up with Lee.
February 5, 1937
I am a hollyhock fan. When a friend said last summer, “My flower garden is a failure – nothing is blooming but the hollyhocks.” I felt sorry for her, even though my sorrow was mixed with envy. Perhaps my love of these old-fashioned flowers might be traced by a psychologist back to childhood days when I spent many happy hours at my grandmother’s, making dolls with gorgeous glowing gowns and colorful parasols from these brilliant posies.
When the earth is covered with a sparkling white blanket and the mercury is wavering from zero to way below, it’s pleasant to think of delightful summer scenes. One of the most inspiring views in summer is that which meets the eye on making the last turn on the road to Vipont mine. No matter how often I travel that road, the beauty of that wonderful landscape makes me catch my breath for sheer joy to wish that I were an artist with the ability to reproduce on canvas those beautifully molded hills and the delicate coloring of the trees and shrubbery which grace them. I wish that everyone in the world could gaze upon that inspiring scene. It would not hurt anyone and would surely do a lot of people good.
February 12, 1937
The question of whether Mr. Ground Hog saw his shadow on his annual day this year was answered most emphatically by the blizzard which has raged for the past few days. He did.
The Moulton Lynn mail was held up – but not robbed – by bad roads last week. The mail carrier left for Oakley on Wednesday as usual but because of the storm and road conditions he was unable to return until Saturday. People were beginning to fear for his safety, so when he pulled in everybody heaved a big sigh of relief. There was such a blizzard Monday that he did not even attempt to start from Lynn.
The big measles scare seems to be over, the two youngest Benson children being the only victims of the disease, now we can sing that old vaudeville chorus:
Because we’ve all had ’em. We’ve all had ‘em
Some folks turn up their nose and say, “Oh, my!”
But we’ve all had ‘em, we’ve all had ‘em.
And you who haven’t had ‘em.
You will have ‘em bye and bye.
Mr. Leavitt has needed a magnifying glass to see his school; it has been so small the past two or three weeks.
Two holidays in three days! I think February is the only month which can claim such distinction.
Today, February 12, the one hundred twenty-eighth anniversary of his birth, we do honor to one of the greatest men who ever lived – our own Abraham Lincoln. Memories of this great American are both pleasant and sad. The sorrow of course being because of his tragic and untimely death. I think all Americans love and revere him, but all too seldom to we read and ponder on his life and works. Many stories of his life have been written and one at least would be told each year by young and old. He only lived and died that “government of the people, by the people and for the people, might not perish from the earth.”
Valentine day seems to be an occasion when young folks especially send to each other such love-lade greetings as this one expressed by a picture of a young farmer with an armful of vegetables who says; “I wouldn’t carrot all to live without you, my valentine.”
Or this one. A young fellow mowing a lawn with hearts scattered all about says to his valentine, “I love you ‘mower’ each day.
February 19, 1937
Some blackbirds have spent the winter here, one pair at least becoming somewhat domesticated, so that they go into the barn and eat with the pigeons. At present the blackbirds are even tamer than the pigeons. Many birds would spend the winters here if they were provided with shelter and food. I for one would like to see some trees growing around more of the homes to help encourage our feathered friends to take up their abode here.
A good work is being done by some of the men folks here in getting rid of many of the jackrabbits, and as the rabbit skins are a good price at present, those who obtain them are paid in more ways than one. It is regrettable that others do not join in helping exterminate these pests. More than five hundred skins have been obtained by two hunters who have used some of their spare time during the past month in this manner.
Visiting the sick on skis, though probably not a new thing, is a novelty here. That was the method used recently by Mr. and Mrs. Chester butlers to reach the Joe Moon ranch where Mrs. Moon has been ill for some time.
Though the roads are very bad and the cold has been extremely sever, there is not as much snow here as last winter. Also last year, because of several warm spells, the snow settled and contained much more water than the same depth this year would have.
A Sketch of the Life of Elijah C. Ried
March 5, 1937
Lou Ella J. Bronson
Elijah C. Reid was born February 26, 1875
At Stone, Oneida county, Idaho. His parents were Elijah C. and Sarah M. Bates Reid. The family moved to Locomotive Springs (now Carma), Utah, when Elijah Jr. was three years old. At the age of five he took typhoid fever. A doctor Mallory from Kenton was called and everything was done that loving hands could do to relieve the little sufferer.
Though he was near death for almost three months he finally recovered. He had become so weak that he could neither talk nor walk and had to learn these accomplishments all over again just like a baby. In spite of all this he grew to be a sturdy youngster with a splendid physique.
After making several moves, the family settled at what is now known as the Reid Springs in the Raft river valley, these springs, which are similar to the Land ranch springs in the Oakley valley, were named after the Reid family, the firs residents there. Elijah received what schooling he had while they lived at this place. There was a little school house between the ranch which is now known as the Chris Hansen ranch. Owned by Daniel Beus and the John Ward place. Here Miss Lily Fisher taught the Reid children and others of that section the three Rs. Later he went to the school at the cove between Almo and Grape creek – taught by Mr. Thornton.
When he was but fourteen years old, Elijah was left an orphan and being the oldest boy, he took the responsibility of working out for wages to help support his younger brother and sisters. He worked for John Blyth, a typical Scotchman, off and on for about twenty years; sometimes for two years steady. Mr. Blythe liked him and would always vouch for his honesty and dependability. During these years he gained much useful experience and in working with sheep it was discovered that he had rare ability in the training of dogs. If you were fortunate enough to get “Bud” Reid to train a dog for you, no price could persuade you to part with it, as any dog he trained showed almost human intelligence. He was also an excellent horseman: one of his intimate associates says he never knew him to be thrown and it is said that he rode some tough ones. He was very fond of animals and those in his possession were always well cared for.
From 1899 to 1901 Elijah worked with Samuel O. Bennion for John C. Sharp of Salt Lake City; they worked with sheep in Monte Christo, Colorado. S.O. Bennion later became president of the Central states mission and is at present one of the seven presidents of Seventy of the L.D.S. church. President Bennion once said of him, “Lije Reid was one of the best hands I ever knew and he has a heart as big as a beef ox’s. He would never refuse to help a friend in need.”
While working in Soda Springs in 1924, Elijah met and married Mary Meiss. They are the parents of nine children, six of whom with their mother survive. He also has two brothers and two sisters living: they are Mrs. Lucy Allred of Pocatello, Mrs. Laura Bronson of Moulton, Ormus Reid of Los Angeles, California and Orson Reid of Basin.
March 12, 1937
Mrs. Joseph Moon, who has been seriously ill for some time, accompanied her daughter Mrs. McAllister and Mr. McAllister to a Burley hospital last week. The McAllister’s came via Almo in a car as far as the mouth of Immigrant canyon. From there the snow was too deep for an automobile, so they started out on foot, but were met by Mr. Moon in a sleigh. Though Mrs. Moon has lived here but a short time she has made many friends, all of whom wish her a speedy recovery.
Mr. and Mrs. Floyd Leavitt and Lamar Bronson went to Almo on horseback to attend the gold and green ball. The Leavitts then went to Elba by motor to visit relative there. On Sunday the entire party returned with a sleigh.
Rufus Wright, with the help of Ray Roberts the mail carrier, took his turkeys to Twin Falls to sell them. George Bronson accompanied them to Burley. These folks too made use of sleighs and a car on their trip.
There seems to be fad or something for using two or three methods of transportation on each trip these days. It is hoped though that this won’t be necessary much longer: In fact, the past few days have been so warm that some are even daring to hope that spring might come eventually.
March 12, 1937
The pupils are all again in attendance at school. Many books are being toted home by reluctant youngsters who must catch up on lessons that have been missed.
A pair of blue birds are said to be building a nest in the attic of the Buller's house. Many more pairs are moving into the apartments they occupied last year.
Another sure sign of spring was noted by a Moulton resident when he saw a flock of geese flying northward over our valley.
I.R. Stowers is now visiting his daughter, Mrs. Joe Millard, and family. When Mr. Stowers was asked if he and Mrs. Stowers intend to remain in Idaho, he answered, “We couldn’t find a better place.”
LaDell Wringley, who went to Lynn, Utah, for a load of hay, found the sleigh roads not so good. The snow being gone about half the way.
(From Last week)
Blue birds, robins and blackbirds are all daring to face the wrath of that grim old tyrant, Winter, who has ruled the land for the past few months. These cheery messengers of spring keep popping up here and there in spite of an occasional furious blast by north Wind. The chief commander of King Winter’s forces.
Our school gave additional proof of the adage that good things are done up in small parcels when on Washington’s birthday, a party and program was enjoyed by a few of the parents and patrons, Although the program was one of those surprise affairs, it would have been a credit to a much larger school.
March 19, 1937
The Junction Valley
Twenty-Five Years Ago and Now
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
When the Junction valley was filed on by homesteaders about twenty to twenty-five years ago, there were fifty or more homesteads taken up on the side of the valley. The population was around one hundred eighty. For several years very intensive farming was done and nearly all available ground was cleared for raising hay and grain. The valley was almost entirely covered with well cultivated fields. Visitors were greatly impressed with the bounteous crops. Some things which were raised successfully were wheat, barley, oats, rye, flax, corn, alfalfa and sweet clover. Besides these general farm crops some excellent truck gardens were produced, these provided their owners with all sorts of vegetables. Some small fruits such as currants, gooseberries, dewberries and raspberries were grown. Mrs. Harwood canned thirty quarts of dew berries from her few bushes one year.
All this man-made beauty looked better than the original beauties of nature to most people, but alas for its permanence! Whereas nature’s grandeur had remained the same or improved probably for centuries in this wonderland, when man came he destroyed much of the natural beauty, substituting the things that he desired to make money. Then as the land, being farmed constantly and sometimes unwisely, ceased to produce as much as some would have liked, they, instead of blaming themselves, condemned the country and left.
Many of the things which nature had placed here in such rich abundance had been destroyed. Weeds, brought mostly by man, along with some of the more hardy natural plants took the place of the beautiful fields of hay and grain. Now only a few families remain and a comparatively small amount of the land is under cultivation; most of the remainder produces abundant crops of sage brush, Russian thistle, June grass, lots of native plants, and jackrabbits. It would if given the chance bring f forth a variety of the growths which helped to make this a haven of peace and beauty. Man if he would have it restored must help to replace some of the plants, but he would, if he did so, be amply repaid for every bit of effort put forth in this direction.
Hash
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
November 6, 1936
Say, it was indeed generous and kind of the Democrats that they did not, as one commentator stated, “gloat over the poor Republicans”. Perhaps the “poor Republicans don’t understand the meaning of that word, “gloat.”
Well, now that the big excitement has subsided, we can settle back to normal and continue the routine of living much the same as usual, with hopes for a bright future. Next Friday is the 13th, a combination that creates a hoodoo for lots of superstitious folks. A friend of mine once had a flock of turkeys, and when she set them she numbered them consecutively one, two, three, etc. When it came to number thirteen she would leave that out, instead giving them the distinction, twelve one, twelve two, fourteen and so on. If I remember correctly, when hatching time arrived number twelve two hatched not a single egg and twelve one sat on her next and starved to death. Instead of convincing my friend that there was really nothing in the thirteen superstition, she was only more sure that the unlucky number had been the ruin of both turkeys.
So if you think thirteen and Friday are unlucky, I’d advise you not to let any black cats pass in front of you, don’t walk under any ladders, and it might be well to carry a rabbit’s foot on that day at least.
An old gentleman who used to live in this part of the country had for years worn a heard. Finally he decided to shave, so one day a friend met him and after staring at his face he remarked rather rudely:
“Well, sir isn’t it surprising how much ugliness a beard can cover up.”
I thought of that when a fresh sparkling blanket of snow covered the barren ugliness which Jack Frost has left in his wake for a few days.
Friday, November 13, 1936
Although Armistice Day will be passed by the time you read this, it will not hurt any of us to recall that important event. Those of us who are old enough remember those hectic days during the war when our best orators in stirring terms appealed to the patriotism of the citizens of the united States; urging them to send their finest young men far across the ocean, to fight in a war in which we should have had no more interest than we have in the present European conflict. But the boys went gaily and jauntily while we cheered them on. Only those who had sons, husbands of brothers at the front know with what fear and anxiety the casualty lists were searched each day and only those who experienced it know the heart-rending anguish that came with the finding of the name of a loved one in the list of dead or missing. How happy we were on that autumn day in 1918 when we heard that on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month hostilities would cease.
Remember the joy when the boys returned; the sorrow for those who remained on Flanders Field; and those who came back maimed or crippled. Strange that time should so soon erase these things from our memories and that they are so seldom mentioned that a ten-year-old child has to ask (as one asked me recently) “What is Armistice day?”
This has been National Education week and it is said that thousands of parents would visit the public schools this week. Doubtless other thousands never think to visit the schools where their children receive their education, during this week or any other week. Teachers should invite the parents of the pupils to visit the school twice or three times during the school term and parents should accept those invitations. You are likely to learn more about the progress of your child in one visit than the report cards you ever read could tell you. And incidentally, we might absorb some of the information that is being dispensed to our children- which probably wouldn’t hurt any of us.
A couple of years ago it seemed to me that the word “thrill” was being overworked. So when our five-year-old daughter used it to describe some excitement she’d had, I thought it was time to find out if she knew what it meant so I said, What is a thrill Georgie?”
(Illegible)
November 20, 1936
If a new highway is built through our valley via the old Immigrant canyon, I wonder if any of us who travel that route occasionally will be alive to enjoy the luxury of riding on it. We certainly won’t if we persist in traveling on that road as it now is. Those old timers who traveled that way long ago and who were in fear of being ambushed by the Indians were in but a little more danger. They merely faced the possibility of losing their scalps while their modern descendants risk being shaken into a million pieces.
There is, near the spot where the old City of Rocks stage station stood, an ideal place for a dude ranch, tourist cabins, etc. A spring which does not dry up makes water available at all times This land, which is owned at present by Charles Johnston, will someday, if a highway is built through it, help its owner to make a small fortune.
As soon as hay fever season is over, it seems that the cold-catching season is in; so that, for some folks, life is just one big sneeze after another.
November 27, 1936
While stuffing yourself with stuffed turkey on Thanksgiving Day did you (illegible)___ pause to think of how many (illegible)_____ you had to be thankful for? It would not hurt any of us. In fact it would be profitable to stop and reflect much oftener than once a year on the many causes we have for Thanksgiving. Take friendship for just one example: What would you take for the confidence and esteem of your friends. Of course you can place no price on them for they are invaluable.
There should be some law. If only the law of human kindness, to compel trappers to visit their traps daily. Many valuable domestic animals are crippled and killed each year by being caught and held in traps, sometimes for days. It is pitiful to see good dogs or sheep with a foot missing. And no conscientious person would use those horrible devices of torture with diamond teeth which invariably cause the death of any poor animal they chance to catch. Even the wily coyote, for which I have no love at all, deserves a kinder death than that.
It is interesting to see how some people (perhaps all of us) imagine they are hurrying when standing with a door open. They will stand and talk for an hour with the door ajar whereby if you asked them to step in and shut the door they just would have time. This characteristic is especially noticeable in the winter time. In fact they’re likely to act just contrary in the summer, and step inside closing the door very carefully when it’s a hundred and ten in the shade.
December 4, 1936
Well! Well! What strange sights one will see at times! The other day in Burley I saw a big Indian chief in full regalia, including a headdress of brilliant feathers, who was driving a large, shiny new auto. He was doing it very efficiently, too, as Indians seem to do almost everything they undertake.
Have you ever heard of the River of Rocks in Junction Valley? No? Well neither had I till a young lady from Lynn described it to me recently. This strange phenomenon of nature is located about two miles from Raymond Lind’s place. I intend to see this rare formation next spring when nature is at its best. Then if you haven’t seen it first perhaps I’ll try to tell you about it in more detail.
The road between our valley and Almo has at last been given a fitting name by one of our residents. The title is Forgotten Road. Upon first thought I could not recall that any work had ever been done on this road, but by questioning other residents with better memories it was found that at one time we actually had a road supervisor here- strange as this may seem to some of us now- and has made some changes and some much needed improvements in the road then. This credit is due Gordon Edwards who was the said supervisor when he lived among us. However all traces of any improvements have been erased by time and erosion. Last summer some tourists stopped to inquire the route to City of Rocks. They said if the rest of the road was as bad as that over which they had come from Oakley, they believed they would turn around and go back. Well if one were truthful he could but admit it was ten times worse. But far be it from any of us to be the cause of any one’s missing the thrill of seeing that wonderful city for the first time, so of course on such occasions very little is said about road conditions, and a great deal about the marvelous sights at the end of the road.
December 25 1936
The report that more than three thousand young pines were taken from our valley for Christmas trees this year, seems rather alarming to me. Although a few have been removed in former years, no such great number as this have been taken before. If those who profit by this business appreciate the value of it to such an extent that they inagrate a system of reforestation, no harm will be done. But if on the other hand a similar number were removed each year, without systematic replacement, in a (illegible) reality where pines are not very plentiful, there would soon be a serious shortage. The pines, in addition to their beauty and usefulness for lumber for various purposes, form a growth which is one of the best of watersheds. Because of the scarcity of water in this valley this is an important consideration.
An even greater crime than taking young pines for Christmas trees is committed every year by careless sheepherders and others, who set fires which burnt over hundreds of acres. As fire isn’t particular what sort of fuel it has, every type of growth goes before it, including the pines and other trees; sometimes even the farmer’s hard-earned crops are burned.
Isn’t it swell to be living in the good old U.S.A. where, although we may make some mistakes in government, we still have common sense enough not to do such an uncommon place thing as to banish our first citizen and probably greatest leader, because of his desire to marry the woman of his choice?
There are many other reasons, too. That cause one to rejoice because of being a citizen of the best nation on the earth. One of them is the fact that there is a big ocean or two between us and the fireworks on the eastern hemisphere. May they always keep their distance well.
The spirit of Christmas is again abroad in the land. What a lot of good would result if we were all able to carry out the generous desires this fine spirit brings us. Some folks are eternally embarrassed because they receive gifts and cannot return them each year. Ah, if they only knew it they could make as much happiness for the giver by receiving the gift graciously, as if they were in a position to return each remembrance with one a little better. At least I am still optimistic enough to think that most people believe this saying in the Good Book: It is more blessed to give than to receive. Folks get real lasting joy from giving. But to make this Christmas happier than usual, try putting a little extra emphasis on the “thank you.”
My wish for each of you is; that you may have this year the merriest Christmas you’ve ever had enjoy health and prosperity during 1937.
January 8, 1937
Rich Whittaker was telling of an experience with one of Keogh’s wild steers. As he was walking along one day one of the long-horned critters attacked him. The only protection he could see was a rather big willow bush. By the time he reached it, the steer was right at his heels. When he had made a few turns around the bush he decided he would have to stop to consider, the steer no doubt having a kind streak in its nature, stopped too.
Thought Rick, “I don’t believe it would be any crime if I’d shoot that beast. It’s no better than any other wild animal that would attack a man.” But on second thought he decided it was too valuable an animal for him to do such a ruthless thing. So when the steer started after him again, he circled the willow a few more times. Once more when he was about to drop from exhaustion he stopped. The beast again allowed him a short breathing spell.
“By golly, I will shoot the brute.” Said Rich to himself. “But no,” he reconsidered. “Mr. Keogh has never done me any harm. I must not serve him such a trick as that.” So Rich climbed into the willow and stayed till the steer left. After telling this he asked a friend “George, what would you have done in that case?”
“I think I’d have killed the critter,” replied George.
“You bet,” answered Rich, “and so would I if I’d only had my gun along.”
January 15, 1937
It’s getting to be about time that all our New Year’s resolutions should be, according to nearly all past experience, either broken, cracked or at least very badly bent. Well, perhaps now we can go peacefully on through the remainder of 1937 without having to hear that remark which all “revolutionists” hate – “I thought you had resolved…”
It’s a sturdy and staunch soul indeed who can faithfully keep a New Year’s resolution for an entire month. My sincere and heartfelt congratulations to any of you who are still carrying on. May success finally be yours.
The mail carriers are very popular fellows in these rural districts where folks are practically snowed in for sometimes three or four months out of the year. Ever accommodating and considerate, they bring a bit of cheer to one and all. Even when he brings nothing more interesting than a price list from some fur house, the mail carrier is greeted with pleasure. On the gloomiest days when blizzards rage outside, we look forward to seeing at least this one person abroad and rarely if ever does he fail us. Occasionally one may hear a few minor complaints about the mail carrier, but never do we hear the mail carrier’s complaints about his patrons. I’d like to hear a list of them, wouldn’t you? They would no doubt be enlightening. It has been said of one man who carried mail on the route for four years that there was not the faintest murmur against him. With a reputation like that, it’s no wonder he never tries to get the job again. Not telling what might happen another time.
There is an old saying that has been repeated often: a poor man has two dogs, a darn poor on has three, and a rich man doesn’t have any. If this is true, the poverty of some folks is positively beyond description. After they’ve had the much-talked-of rabbit drive, it might be well to have a dog drive too.
January 22, 1936
Although the complaints of mail carriers are as rare as roses in January, here is one which was found “hidden among the stuff.” With apologies to the author of “Strawberry Roan.”
Mail Carrier’s Lament
I was out on my farm and a trapping coyotes
When along comes a Senator looking for votes.
Sez I, “You can have mine and all I can mail
If you’ll get me a job a hauling the mail.”
He says, “Okay, pardner, that job you may land
If you and your friends will but lend me a hand,”
Sez I, “It’s a deal.” In my jitney I hop
And I drive in to Oakley with never a stop.
“I signs up the papers and seals ‘em up tight.
Then for once in my life I sleep through the night.
But it doesn’t take long before Even I see
That some (illegible)ded a fem ….me.
The roads they are awful could rarely be worse
No words can describe then politely in verse
Every kind of mail box en sues on this route
From a blue bird’s abode to an old rubber boot.
In a big syrup can I must dig in the snow
For the flag is raised up so a letter must go
When I get to the bottom I find without fail
That nothing is there but last Friday’s mail
One guy orders freight, half a ton, less or more
He wants it delivered right up to his door
I charge him two bits, be grumbles at that
He sez “You’re a robber --- you’d steal a man’s hat.”
For a long list of groceries one fellow does send.
Says he, “We’re right out, so on you we depend
The baby needs shoes and my wife she is ill
And the doctor prescribed for her this special pill
We are needing some flour and sugar and tea
Some bags of potatoes at least two or three.
But if one of these items you’d happen to miss,
I’ve sent for Bull Durham – be sure and get this
I must trudge through a blizzard and four feet of snow
My horses so weary they scarcely can go
But I’m warmed by the thought as I plod through the cold
I’m praised for my service by both young and old.
My joy comes to naught in a very short time
For here are six letters and one measly dime
The fellow who wrote ‘em has three sections of range
And he asks me to mail them and bring him the change
Kind friends, let me tell you, this job is no snap.
For every bouquet there is many a rap
So the next time a congressman’s looking for votes
I shall stick to my farm and trapping coyotes.
January 29, 1937
“Don’t you nearly die of loneliness?” is a question that is asked of rural folks more often than any other by urbanites who visit in the country. The almost invariable reply is, “I’m too busy to get lonesome.”
“I don’t see what you can find to occupy your time.” The city dweller will remark. This amuses any farmer or farmer’s wife who can scarcely crowd, into even the longest days of the year, more than half the things that need to be done. In fact about the only time a country person ever feels lonely is when duty or pleasure takes him to the city. There, freed from the responsibilities to which he has been accustomed, the surrounded by hundreds of people, he may really be lonesome- an emotion unknown to him in his country.
In the commencement of this cold spell, when the sun arose one morning there were two very brilliant sundogs. Later in the day a huge double ring encircled the sun; and in the evening as the sun was setting the sundogs again appeared. These signs, said some of the self-appointed weather prophets, were a sure indication of severely cold weather. Well, maybe they are but it seems to me that during the summer months when similar phenomena occurred, it was claimed then that they foretold intense heat. It’s getting so that the only weather forecast one can really believe is that of the old Indian who said he knew only one sure sign of rain. “And what is that?” he was asked
“When it’s black all around and pouring down in the middle.” He replied.
The other night when I saw a large bonfire coming up the road toward me I was startled, to say the least. However, as is the case with most mysteries, the solution to this one was simple enough. Once I had learned it. During the coldest weather we’ve ever known here, some of the boys have originated a unique method of keeping warm while riding in a sleigh. They make a fire in a galvanized tub and take plenty of wood along to keep it replenished.
An occasional intrepid flyer still dares to wing his lonely way across our wind-swept, snow-covered hills to give us just a fleeting-glimpse of the hurry, bustle and excitement of the busy world outside.
Fred Taylor and Lee Kirkpatrick showed more hardihood than most of our residents by bucking the snowdrifts to Oakley this week. Fred lost considerable weight from having to walk so much to keep warm, and so fast to keep up with Lee.
February 5, 1937
I am a hollyhock fan. When a friend said last summer, “My flower garden is a failure – nothing is blooming but the hollyhocks.” I felt sorry for her, even though my sorrow was mixed with envy. Perhaps my love of these old-fashioned flowers might be traced by a psychologist back to childhood days when I spent many happy hours at my grandmother’s, making dolls with gorgeous glowing gowns and colorful parasols from these brilliant posies.
When the earth is covered with a sparkling white blanket and the mercury is wavering from zero to way below, it’s pleasant to think of delightful summer scenes. One of the most inspiring views in summer is that which meets the eye on making the last turn on the road to Vipont mine. No matter how often I travel that road, the beauty of that wonderful landscape makes me catch my breath for sheer joy to wish that I were an artist with the ability to reproduce on canvas those beautifully molded hills and the delicate coloring of the trees and shrubbery which grace them. I wish that everyone in the world could gaze upon that inspiring scene. It would not hurt anyone and would surely do a lot of people good.
February 12, 1937
The question of whether Mr. Ground Hog saw his shadow on his annual day this year was answered most emphatically by the blizzard which has raged for the past few days. He did.
The Moulton Lynn mail was held up – but not robbed – by bad roads last week. The mail carrier left for Oakley on Wednesday as usual but because of the storm and road conditions he was unable to return until Saturday. People were beginning to fear for his safety, so when he pulled in everybody heaved a big sigh of relief. There was such a blizzard Monday that he did not even attempt to start from Lynn.
The big measles scare seems to be over, the two youngest Benson children being the only victims of the disease, now we can sing that old vaudeville chorus:
Because we’ve all had ’em. We’ve all had ‘em
Some folks turn up their nose and say, “Oh, my!”
But we’ve all had ‘em, we’ve all had ‘em.
And you who haven’t had ‘em.
You will have ‘em bye and bye.
Mr. Leavitt has needed a magnifying glass to see his school; it has been so small the past two or three weeks.
Two holidays in three days! I think February is the only month which can claim such distinction.
Today, February 12, the one hundred twenty-eighth anniversary of his birth, we do honor to one of the greatest men who ever lived – our own Abraham Lincoln. Memories of this great American are both pleasant and sad. The sorrow of course being because of his tragic and untimely death. I think all Americans love and revere him, but all too seldom to we read and ponder on his life and works. Many stories of his life have been written and one at least would be told each year by young and old. He only lived and died that “government of the people, by the people and for the people, might not perish from the earth.”
Valentine day seems to be an occasion when young folks especially send to each other such love-lade greetings as this one expressed by a picture of a young farmer with an armful of vegetables who says; “I wouldn’t carrot all to live without you, my valentine.”
Or this one. A young fellow mowing a lawn with hearts scattered all about says to his valentine, “I love you ‘mower’ each day.
February 19, 1937
Some blackbirds have spent the winter here, one pair at least becoming somewhat domesticated, so that they go into the barn and eat with the pigeons. At present the blackbirds are even tamer than the pigeons. Many birds would spend the winters here if they were provided with shelter and food. I for one would like to see some trees growing around more of the homes to help encourage our feathered friends to take up their abode here.
A good work is being done by some of the men folks here in getting rid of many of the jackrabbits, and as the rabbit skins are a good price at present, those who obtain them are paid in more ways than one. It is regrettable that others do not join in helping exterminate these pests. More than five hundred skins have been obtained by two hunters who have used some of their spare time during the past month in this manner.
Visiting the sick on skis, though probably not a new thing, is a novelty here. That was the method used recently by Mr. and Mrs. Chester butlers to reach the Joe Moon ranch where Mrs. Moon has been ill for some time.
Though the roads are very bad and the cold has been extremely sever, there is not as much snow here as last winter. Also last year, because of several warm spells, the snow settled and contained much more water than the same depth this year would have.
A Sketch of the Life of Elijah C. Ried
March 5, 1937
Lou Ella J. Bronson
Elijah C. Reid was born February 26, 1875
At Stone, Oneida county, Idaho. His parents were Elijah C. and Sarah M. Bates Reid. The family moved to Locomotive Springs (now Carma), Utah, when Elijah Jr. was three years old. At the age of five he took typhoid fever. A doctor Mallory from Kenton was called and everything was done that loving hands could do to relieve the little sufferer.
Though he was near death for almost three months he finally recovered. He had become so weak that he could neither talk nor walk and had to learn these accomplishments all over again just like a baby. In spite of all this he grew to be a sturdy youngster with a splendid physique.
After making several moves, the family settled at what is now known as the Reid Springs in the Raft river valley, these springs, which are similar to the Land ranch springs in the Oakley valley, were named after the Reid family, the firs residents there. Elijah received what schooling he had while they lived at this place. There was a little school house between the ranch which is now known as the Chris Hansen ranch. Owned by Daniel Beus and the John Ward place. Here Miss Lily Fisher taught the Reid children and others of that section the three Rs. Later he went to the school at the cove between Almo and Grape creek – taught by Mr. Thornton.
When he was but fourteen years old, Elijah was left an orphan and being the oldest boy, he took the responsibility of working out for wages to help support his younger brother and sisters. He worked for John Blyth, a typical Scotchman, off and on for about twenty years; sometimes for two years steady. Mr. Blythe liked him and would always vouch for his honesty and dependability. During these years he gained much useful experience and in working with sheep it was discovered that he had rare ability in the training of dogs. If you were fortunate enough to get “Bud” Reid to train a dog for you, no price could persuade you to part with it, as any dog he trained showed almost human intelligence. He was also an excellent horseman: one of his intimate associates says he never knew him to be thrown and it is said that he rode some tough ones. He was very fond of animals and those in his possession were always well cared for.
From 1899 to 1901 Elijah worked with Samuel O. Bennion for John C. Sharp of Salt Lake City; they worked with sheep in Monte Christo, Colorado. S.O. Bennion later became president of the Central states mission and is at present one of the seven presidents of Seventy of the L.D.S. church. President Bennion once said of him, “Lije Reid was one of the best hands I ever knew and he has a heart as big as a beef ox’s. He would never refuse to help a friend in need.”
While working in Soda Springs in 1924, Elijah met and married Mary Meiss. They are the parents of nine children, six of whom with their mother survive. He also has two brothers and two sisters living: they are Mrs. Lucy Allred of Pocatello, Mrs. Laura Bronson of Moulton, Ormus Reid of Los Angeles, California and Orson Reid of Basin.
March 12, 1937
Mrs. Joseph Moon, who has been seriously ill for some time, accompanied her daughter Mrs. McAllister and Mr. McAllister to a Burley hospital last week. The McAllister’s came via Almo in a car as far as the mouth of Immigrant canyon. From there the snow was too deep for an automobile, so they started out on foot, but were met by Mr. Moon in a sleigh. Though Mrs. Moon has lived here but a short time she has made many friends, all of whom wish her a speedy recovery.
Mr. and Mrs. Floyd Leavitt and Lamar Bronson went to Almo on horseback to attend the gold and green ball. The Leavitts then went to Elba by motor to visit relative there. On Sunday the entire party returned with a sleigh.
Rufus Wright, with the help of Ray Roberts the mail carrier, took his turkeys to Twin Falls to sell them. George Bronson accompanied them to Burley. These folks too made use of sleighs and a car on their trip.
There seems to be fad or something for using two or three methods of transportation on each trip these days. It is hoped though that this won’t be necessary much longer: In fact, the past few days have been so warm that some are even daring to hope that spring might come eventually.
March 12, 1937
The pupils are all again in attendance at school. Many books are being toted home by reluctant youngsters who must catch up on lessons that have been missed.
A pair of blue birds are said to be building a nest in the attic of the Buller's house. Many more pairs are moving into the apartments they occupied last year.
Another sure sign of spring was noted by a Moulton resident when he saw a flock of geese flying northward over our valley.
I.R. Stowers is now visiting his daughter, Mrs. Joe Millard, and family. When Mr. Stowers was asked if he and Mrs. Stowers intend to remain in Idaho, he answered, “We couldn’t find a better place.”
LaDell Wringley, who went to Lynn, Utah, for a load of hay, found the sleigh roads not so good. The snow being gone about half the way.
(From Last week)
Blue birds, robins and blackbirds are all daring to face the wrath of that grim old tyrant, Winter, who has ruled the land for the past few months. These cheery messengers of spring keep popping up here and there in spite of an occasional furious blast by north Wind. The chief commander of King Winter’s forces.
Our school gave additional proof of the adage that good things are done up in small parcels when on Washington’s birthday, a party and program was enjoyed by a few of the parents and patrons, Although the program was one of those surprise affairs, it would have been a credit to a much larger school.
March 19, 1937
The Junction Valley
Twenty-Five Years Ago and Now
By Lou Ella J. Bronson
When the Junction valley was filed on by homesteaders about twenty to twenty-five years ago, there were fifty or more homesteads taken up on the side of the valley. The population was around one hundred eighty. For several years very intensive farming was done and nearly all available ground was cleared for raising hay and grain. The valley was almost entirely covered with well cultivated fields. Visitors were greatly impressed with the bounteous crops. Some things which were raised successfully were wheat, barley, oats, rye, flax, corn, alfalfa and sweet clover. Besides these general farm crops some excellent truck gardens were produced, these provided their owners with all sorts of vegetables. Some small fruits such as currants, gooseberries, dewberries and raspberries were grown. Mrs. Harwood canned thirty quarts of dew berries from her few bushes one year.
All this man-made beauty looked better than the original beauties of nature to most people, but alas for its permanence! Whereas nature’s grandeur had remained the same or improved probably for centuries in this wonderland, when man came he destroyed much of the natural beauty, substituting the things that he desired to make money. Then as the land, being farmed constantly and sometimes unwisely, ceased to produce as much as some would have liked, they, instead of blaming themselves, condemned the country and left.
Many of the things which nature had placed here in such rich abundance had been destroyed. Weeds, brought mostly by man, along with some of the more hardy natural plants took the place of the beautiful fields of hay and grain. Now only a few families remain and a comparatively small amount of the land is under cultivation; most of the remainder produces abundant crops of sage brush, Russian thistle, June grass, lots of native plants, and jackrabbits. It would if given the chance bring f forth a variety of the growths which helped to make this a haven of peace and beauty. Man if he would have it restored must help to replace some of the plants, but he would, if he did so, be amply repaid for every bit of effort put forth in this direction.
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