This drift would often last till May. I have
seen it stop the plough. I remember once carrying a jug of water up
to Brother Curtis when his plough was within a few feet of the snow.
Woodchucks would sometimes feel the spring through this thick
coverlid of snow and bore up through it to the sunlight. I think
the woodchuck's alarm clock always goes off before April is done,
and he comes forth, apparently not to break his long fast, but to
find his mate.
I remember working in oats in the middle side-hill lot one September
during the early years of the Civil War, when Hiram was talking
of enlisting as a drummer, and when Father and Mother were much
worried about it. I carried together the sheaves, putting fifteen
in a "shock."
I have heard my father tell of a curious incident that once befell
his hired man and himself when they were drawing in oats on a sled
from the first side-hill lot. They had on a load, and the hired man
had thrust his fork into the upper sides of it and was bringing his
weight to bear against its tendency to capsize. But gravity got the
better of them and over went the load; the hired man (Rueb Dart)
clung to his fork, and swung over the load through the air,
alighting on his feet none the worse for the adventure.
The spring that supplies the house and the dairy with water comes
from the middle side-hill lot, some forty or fifty rods from the
house, and is now brought down in pipes; in my time, in pump-logs.
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