By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
In Wisconsin, Joann and I have spent many days photographing in tobacco country, but it has always been during the harvest. We have never managed to be in the area during planting time.
In 2010, as I was researching our trip to North Carolina, I stumbled across some photos taken of tobacco planting in the south. The machines were much bigger than the couple we had seen in Wisconsin. I sent a photo to Joann and told her she had to look at it to see if she could see the people sitting behind the flats of tobacco. At first, she couldn’t see them. I told her to look for the legs and feet between the flats of tobacco and then she could finally pick them out.
Since spring seemed to be arriving several weeks early, we added planting tobacco to our wish list of things to capture on our trip. (Do you have a wish list when you travel? You should!) We already had southern tobacco barns on our list since they are so different from the barns we are used to in Wisconsin.
Tobacco has been grown in North Carolina for almost three centuries. In the 1880’s mass production techniques were introduced by Washington Duke, and from then until 2001, tobacco production was the largest source of income for North Carolina.
We knew we would be in tobacco country once we left the mountains, and as we drove a country road one morning, we came across a tractor and tobacco setter sitting in a prepared tobacco field.
The flats of tobacco plants were sitting next to the planter but no one was around. We could study the setter as long as we wanted. Without the tobacco flats loaded, it was easy to see the seats that would soon be occupied by workers to feed the tobacco into the cylinders for planting.
Joann was able to photograph the tobacco setter and the cylinders that would drop the tobacco plants into the ground. We spent quite a bit of time looking at the setter since it was a great opportunity.
Later on the same day, we came across a field being planted with a small two row setter. We watched as they moved across the field and small tobacco plants appeared in the soil behind them.
We considered ourselves blessed and thought that was probably all that we would see. We had wanted to see the planting of tobacco, and we did. As we continued our travels, we found some fields ready for planting, and a couple of fields already planted with new tobacco plants. We also found a lot of picturesque tobacco barns, and stopped to take photos of many of them.
So, imagine our surprise when we came across another farmer planting a large field. His setter was an eight row planter, and we were amazed by the size and how fast they could plant the field. This field was much larger than any we have ever seen in Wisconsin.
We watched as they crossed the field planting eight rows at a time. It seemed that those small plants couldn’t possibly fill the rows in maturity, but having seen the mature tobacco fields in Wisconsin, we knew they would. At the end of the field, the tractor driver would raise the setter along with the workers in their seats to make the turn, and as they approached the next rows to be planted, he would lower the setter again.
We watched them for quite a while, and Joann walked along the road taking pictures as they moved around the field.
This was our last encounter with tobacco planting, but we were happy with all of the opportunities that had presented themselves to us.
We don’t in any way condone the use of tobacco products, but it is a part of our agricultural history and that’s what interests us.
With all of the recent focus on the harmful effects of smoking and tobacco, the southern tobacco barns are fast disappearing. Hopefully some of these will be saved for other purposes or another part of our American history will be lost forever.
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Shunpiking To Heaven Backroads Blog
Showing posts with label tobacco barn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tobacco barn. Show all posts
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Elderberry Time
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
Ruth and I enjoy picking wild berries in the summer, such as black raspberries (or blackcaps as they are sometimes called), blackberries, and elderberries (which might not be familiar to some people). Elderberries are small dark purple berries that grow in umbrella-like clusters on bushes along roadsides, marshes, and streams.
In Wisconsin, the elderberry bushes are covered with pretty, white blossoms around the end of June or the beginning of July. We enjoy being out on the backroads at that time of year because the roadsides are usually lined with orange day lilies.
This year, in early July, Ruth and I were on the lookout for blossoming elderberry bushes in our area so that we might return to these bushes later to harvest the fruit, which can be used for making pies, jelly, jam, syrup, and wine. A couple years ago, Ruth made elderberry jelly and gave some to everyone in the family for Christmas. Often, we just add a small amount of them to our morning smoothies. They’re great for boosting the immune system.
In July, Ruth was also on the lookout for one of her favorite wildflowers, which is chicory. She loves the periwinkle blue color of these small roadside flowers, which bloom from May through October. However, each flower blooms for only one day.
When we were kids, we got into a bit of trouble with our mother over some elderberry blossoms. There was an elderberry bush growing right next to one of our outbuildings on the farm. Elderberry blossoms are sometimes used for making elder flower fritters (elderberry blossoms dipped in a light batter and fried). I don’t remember Mom ever making fritters out of them, but she did make jelly out of the fruit.
Well, it seems that we were playing house and we decided to make some pretend fritters, so we picked all the blossoms from the bush. This innocent action on our part meant no fruit later for our mother’s jelly-making. Needless to say, she was “mad as a hornet” and we were fittingly punished.
Around the end of August, we often hit the backroads to watch and photograph the tobacco harvest in this area. And we start to see the ripe elderberries drooping on the bushes along the roadsides. Often, they are nearly impossible to reach because they are in the marshes or down steep embankments. So, having staked out some nice bushes that I could easily reach, I returned to these bushes intending to harvest some of the berries. Unfortunately, the birds had also staked out these same bushes and had “harvested” most of the berries before they were ripe enough to pick.
Luckily for me, Ruth had scouted out some other bushes and, while I was busy taking our niece’s senior class portraits last Sunday morning, she harvested a bagful of elderberries for me and I found them on my porch when I returned home. Now I have these beautiful dark purple berries in my freezer and will be able to use them throughout the winter.
As with any wild edible, please use caution and make sure you know what you’re picking and consuming.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Ruth and I enjoy picking wild berries in the summer, such as black raspberries (or blackcaps as they are sometimes called), blackberries, and elderberries (which might not be familiar to some people). Elderberries are small dark purple berries that grow in umbrella-like clusters on bushes along roadsides, marshes, and streams.
In Wisconsin, the elderberry bushes are covered with pretty, white blossoms around the end of June or the beginning of July. We enjoy being out on the backroads at that time of year because the roadsides are usually lined with orange day lilies.
This year, in early July, Ruth and I were on the lookout for blossoming elderberry bushes in our area so that we might return to these bushes later to harvest the fruit, which can be used for making pies, jelly, jam, syrup, and wine. A couple years ago, Ruth made elderberry jelly and gave some to everyone in the family for Christmas. Often, we just add a small amount of them to our morning smoothies. They’re great for boosting the immune system.
In July, Ruth was also on the lookout for one of her favorite wildflowers, which is chicory. She loves the periwinkle blue color of these small roadside flowers, which bloom from May through October. However, each flower blooms for only one day.
When we were kids, we got into a bit of trouble with our mother over some elderberry blossoms. There was an elderberry bush growing right next to one of our outbuildings on the farm. Elderberry blossoms are sometimes used for making elder flower fritters (elderberry blossoms dipped in a light batter and fried). I don’t remember Mom ever making fritters out of them, but she did make jelly out of the fruit.
Well, it seems that we were playing house and we decided to make some pretend fritters, so we picked all the blossoms from the bush. This innocent action on our part meant no fruit later for our mother’s jelly-making. Needless to say, she was “mad as a hornet” and we were fittingly punished.
Around the end of August, we often hit the backroads to watch and photograph the tobacco harvest in this area. And we start to see the ripe elderberries drooping on the bushes along the roadsides. Often, they are nearly impossible to reach because they are in the marshes or down steep embankments. So, having staked out some nice bushes that I could easily reach, I returned to these bushes intending to harvest some of the berries. Unfortunately, the birds had also staked out these same bushes and had “harvested” most of the berries before they were ripe enough to pick.
Luckily for me, Ruth had scouted out some other bushes and, while I was busy taking our niece’s senior class portraits last Sunday morning, she harvested a bagful of elderberries for me and I found them on my porch when I returned home. Now I have these beautiful dark purple berries in my freezer and will be able to use them throughout the winter.
As with any wild edible, please use caution and make sure you know what you’re picking and consuming.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Clayton and the Moonshine Girl
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
In April of this year, after spending over a week in North Carolina, we crossed a small section of Virginia on our way to Mabry Mill. It was a beautiful sunny morning in the mountains and we had been photographing some of the area’s tobacco barns, which are quite different from the tobacco barns we’re used to seeing here in Wisconsin.
As we came around a corner, we saw a well-kept log tobacco barn beautifully lit by the morning sun. It was one of the nicest looking tobacco barns we had seen, so I pulled the car off the road into a tractor lane near the barn. As I was taking my camera equipment out of the back seat, a car pulled up on the road and the woman driving rolled down her window and said, “I was just checkin’ if y’all was havin’ car trouble.”
“No, we’re fine,” I said, “but maybe you could answer a question for me. Pointing to the tobacco barn, I said, “That’s a tobacco barn, right?”
“Yup,” she said, “it’s ours.”
“Well, what is that piece of equipment with the funnel that’s sitting on the side of the tobacco barn?”
“That was used to plant corn,” she said (mistakenly, because we later found out from her husband that it was used to fertilize tobacco). “You poured a bag of fertilizer into the funnel along with the corn.”
“Do you know what year it’s from?”
“No, but my husband could tell you. He’s ill with emphysema, so he doesn’t come out of the house, but he’s sittin’ on the porch. Why don’t y’all go up and talk to him.”
I then introduced myself and she told me that her name was Pauline and she would really like us to stop and visit for a while. I told her that I didn’t want to distract her from where she was going, but she insisted we come to the house to chat. We’re sometimes hesitant to get side-tracked from our mission, but I knew we would enjoy these folks and learn something in the process.
So we followed her back to the driveway next to their house and she took us into the porch and introduced us to Clayton, her husband. Clayton was sitting in a chair on the porch and, although he struggled to breathe, he had a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.
Clayton gave us all kinds of information about tobacco growing methods in Virginia and he reminisced about his childhood and his life as a tobacco farmer. He explained the piece of equipment with the funnel, calling it a fertilizer distributor and listing plow. When we asked what “listing” meant, he told us that just meant preparing the ground for planting by producing furrows and ridges. He said some people call them ridgers.
That discussion clarified a big question we had about the tobacco fields we had seen that had ridges from one end of the field to another and were ready for planting or had just been planted. As we talked, Pauline got to thinking that they had a couple things in the garage that we might be interested in. So we followed her to the garage. Clayton, who barely had enough breath while sitting in the porch, couldn’t resist coming out to the garage to talk some more with us.
They showed us an antique tobacco basket and Clayton explained that the tobacco farmers would take their bundles of tobacco to the auction and they would pile their tobacco in the baskets, which would then be inspected by the buyers. They also showed us an old grain cradle scythe.
Then I asked Pauline if I could take a picture of an old outhouse that was down the hill from the back of the house. Pauline was entertained by my desire and said, “Sure, if you really want to.” As she walked with me towards the outhouse, we came upon the most beautiful view across the mountains. She said, “Just look at that view. It’s always been my favorite view.”
In the meantime, as Pauline and I headed towards the outhouse, Clayton was telling Ruth about an old friend of his that came down to see the Smoky Mountains. Towards the end of his trip, he came to visit Clayton and Pauline. After seeing Pauline’s favorite view, he said, “I should have known you’d have the best view right here.”
I set up my tripod to photograph the weary outhouse that seemed to defy gravity. It leaned heavily to the right, as if it wanted to lie down on the cool mountain soil. And then Pauline said, “That poor old thing. I just can’t bear to take it down.” As I turned away from the outhouse, I noticed a very colorful building in a field next to the house. Pauline explained that it was the tobacco packing house.
We visited with Clayton and Pauline for over an hour and then told them we had to get going because we had a lot of ground to cover yet that day. We thanked them for their kindness and then Pauline insisted that we take along some drinks from their refrigerator on the porch. As she opened the refrigerator, the following conversation took place.
Clayton: “I wish we could offer you something more…” (Chuckling) “…like maybe some moonshine. You know, tobacco may have been the main source of income, but I think moonshine ran a close second.”
Pauline: “You know, I grew up in the mountains…over there.” (Pointing off in the distance). “When Clayton and I were courting, some of the people around here thought that Clayton was too good to marry a mountain girl. And when we got engaged, they said to Clayton, “Well, Clayton, looks like you got yourself a moonshine girl.”
As we were leaving, we asked them for their contact information. Pauline had already written it on a piece of paper for us and then she said, “I don’t know why but I keep feeling like I know you from somewhere.” We kind of felt the same way. Moonshine girl or not, Pauline and Clayton were our kind of people. And we wish Clayton a return to good health.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
In April of this year, after spending over a week in North Carolina, we crossed a small section of Virginia on our way to Mabry Mill. It was a beautiful sunny morning in the mountains and we had been photographing some of the area’s tobacco barns, which are quite different from the tobacco barns we’re used to seeing here in Wisconsin.
As we came around a corner, we saw a well-kept log tobacco barn beautifully lit by the morning sun. It was one of the nicest looking tobacco barns we had seen, so I pulled the car off the road into a tractor lane near the barn. As I was taking my camera equipment out of the back seat, a car pulled up on the road and the woman driving rolled down her window and said, “I was just checkin’ if y’all was havin’ car trouble.”
“No, we’re fine,” I said, “but maybe you could answer a question for me. Pointing to the tobacco barn, I said, “That’s a tobacco barn, right?”
“Yup,” she said, “it’s ours.”
“Well, what is that piece of equipment with the funnel that’s sitting on the side of the tobacco barn?”
“That was used to plant corn,” she said (mistakenly, because we later found out from her husband that it was used to fertilize tobacco). “You poured a bag of fertilizer into the funnel along with the corn.”
“Do you know what year it’s from?”
“No, but my husband could tell you. He’s ill with emphysema, so he doesn’t come out of the house, but he’s sittin’ on the porch. Why don’t y’all go up and talk to him.”
I then introduced myself and she told me that her name was Pauline and she would really like us to stop and visit for a while. I told her that I didn’t want to distract her from where she was going, but she insisted we come to the house to chat. We’re sometimes hesitant to get side-tracked from our mission, but I knew we would enjoy these folks and learn something in the process.
So we followed her back to the driveway next to their house and she took us into the porch and introduced us to Clayton, her husband. Clayton was sitting in a chair on the porch and, although he struggled to breathe, he had a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.
Clayton gave us all kinds of information about tobacco growing methods in Virginia and he reminisced about his childhood and his life as a tobacco farmer. He explained the piece of equipment with the funnel, calling it a fertilizer distributor and listing plow. When we asked what “listing” meant, he told us that just meant preparing the ground for planting by producing furrows and ridges. He said some people call them ridgers.
That discussion clarified a big question we had about the tobacco fields we had seen that had ridges from one end of the field to another and were ready for planting or had just been planted. As we talked, Pauline got to thinking that they had a couple things in the garage that we might be interested in. So we followed her to the garage. Clayton, who barely had enough breath while sitting in the porch, couldn’t resist coming out to the garage to talk some more with us.
They showed us an antique tobacco basket and Clayton explained that the tobacco farmers would take their bundles of tobacco to the auction and they would pile their tobacco in the baskets, which would then be inspected by the buyers. They also showed us an old grain cradle scythe.
Then I asked Pauline if I could take a picture of an old outhouse that was down the hill from the back of the house. Pauline was entertained by my desire and said, “Sure, if you really want to.” As she walked with me towards the outhouse, we came upon the most beautiful view across the mountains. She said, “Just look at that view. It’s always been my favorite view.”
In the meantime, as Pauline and I headed towards the outhouse, Clayton was telling Ruth about an old friend of his that came down to see the Smoky Mountains. Towards the end of his trip, he came to visit Clayton and Pauline. After seeing Pauline’s favorite view, he said, “I should have known you’d have the best view right here.”
I set up my tripod to photograph the weary outhouse that seemed to defy gravity. It leaned heavily to the right, as if it wanted to lie down on the cool mountain soil. And then Pauline said, “That poor old thing. I just can’t bear to take it down.” As I turned away from the outhouse, I noticed a very colorful building in a field next to the house. Pauline explained that it was the tobacco packing house.
We visited with Clayton and Pauline for over an hour and then told them we had to get going because we had a lot of ground to cover yet that day. We thanked them for their kindness and then Pauline insisted that we take along some drinks from their refrigerator on the porch. As she opened the refrigerator, the following conversation took place.
Clayton: “I wish we could offer you something more…” (Chuckling) “…like maybe some moonshine. You know, tobacco may have been the main source of income, but I think moonshine ran a close second.”
Pauline: “You know, I grew up in the mountains…over there.” (Pointing off in the distance). “When Clayton and I were courting, some of the people around here thought that Clayton was too good to marry a mountain girl. And when we got engaged, they said to Clayton, “Well, Clayton, looks like you got yourself a moonshine girl.”
As we were leaving, we asked them for their contact information. Pauline had already written it on a piece of paper for us and then she said, “I don’t know why but I keep feeling like I know you from somewhere.” We kind of felt the same way. Moonshine girl or not, Pauline and Clayton were our kind of people. And we wish Clayton a return to good health.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
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