August 2019 - 23

NOTES FROM THE FARM
Remembering the Dust Bowl climate of the 1930s
JERRY MILLS
Mills Apple Farm
jerry@millsapplefarm.com
plant crops in large strips and farm them
every other year, and to till row crops every
other row after rains. The clods raised by
tilling stopped blowing sand from eroding
smooth surfaces.
Went in for a heart tune-up last
July hot temperatures helped grain crops
to catch up. It is too soon to judge the fruit.
We have had peaches that look ripe for two
weeks, but remain hard, waiting for the
calendar, I guess.
Wheat harvest finished between rains
but second crop beans remain stalled in
the planters, where they were when the
deluges began. Still, soil was too dry to
plant pumpkins, now almost too late and
too wet.
On the positive side, hay harvest was
good. We got it in between rains, even
baling our big parking lot. It had been too
wet to mow. Grass was almost two feet high.
Wet weather that prevented proper pest
control on the fruit opened up just enough
to spray at proper times, and I have the
cleanest crop in years. Will it last? I sure
hope so.
Does anyone remember the Dust
Bowl? I do. It was in the mid-1930s. My
family lived outside Albion, Nebraska on
what had once been a beautiful farm. We
had a horse barn and cattle barns for our
one cow, large enclosed feedlots and 320
acres of land on the eastern edge of the
Nebraska sand hills.
The big house had a self-contained
electrical system with a diesel engine in
the basement and a place for banks of
glass batteries on shelves. A wind-driven
generator stood high on a pole in the back
yard. The house had two inside bathrooms,
one downstairs and the other up. However,
by the time we moved there the batteries
and the upstairs toilet were gone. We used
kerosene lamps. The kitchen was bare
except for a cast iron sink.
We lived a mile from town. I could
walk to school, but I tried to hitchhike
whenever I could. That lasted until the
neighbors told on me. Can you imagine
a seven-year-old begging for rides on a
country road these days?
That year, 1937, was particularly hot
and dry. My dad planted 160 acres of
corn. It grew a foot high and stopped.
Grasshoppers appeared literally in clouds,
sometimes riding the winds high above the
ground. The government gave us poisoned
bran for bait. Chinch bugs showed up. The
way to keep them out of a field was to plow
a furrow around it. Chinch bug crawlers
could not climb up the steep side of the
furrow. Both insects played havoc with
what green crops were available.
The year started pleasantly enough.
There was enough moisture to plant crops
and the sandy soil worked well. Then the
winds came and the rains left. It seemed
as if every week there was a sand storm. It
sifted around the windows and left piles on
the sills.
Dust was coming from places that
should never been plowed. Places like
western Oklahoma, Texas, Kansas and
western Nebraska began to lose millions
of tons of topsoil. It blew all the way to the
East Coast, darkening skies as it went.
The way it worked was like this: Wind
would dislodge particles of sand and
send them racing across hard-packed
topsoil. The effect was the same as running
sandpaper and the dust was just as fine.
Western farmers eventually learned to
month. The nurse asked if I wanted my
pulse turned down, from 90 beats to
something not so vigorous. Sure, I said,
and she pushed buttons in her laptop
screen and my heart responded. The
idea that someone can change pulse rate
by remote control is great, thanks to the
battery-controlled defibrillator planted in
my chest.
My son even manages his diabetes this
way. His phone tells him his insulin/blood
sugar is off limits. He fixes it by telling his
phone to tell a machine in his body to feed
in more insulin, and it does. Amazing.
Our cemetery. It is not really ours but
we manage it. It sets on one corner of the
farm. The first grave is dated 1847. Burials
often are in clusters. Groups arrived after
cholera and diphtheria swept through the
neighborhoods. There are many sad stories
associated with those 100 graves.
Anyway, several years ago I announced
to my family that we could accommodate
anyone needing a burial plot. Since most
of our family are scattered over the entire
country with no real local connections,
many have responded. To date we have
my wife, my son, my parents and my
little sister buried here. Another sister
is planning to come. Even though I do
not have strong religious feelings, it
is comforting to have the whole clan
reuniting. We have eight plots reserved for
the rest of us. I hope we do not fill them
too soon.
There is even one unidentified Civil
War sailor. Our own rock of an unknown
soldier. FGN
CopenHaven Farms Nursery
Quality Oregon-Grown
Rootstock & Seedlings
For Fruit Trees.
Since 1982,
Specializing in
Virus-Free Apple,
Cherry, Plum and
Pear Rootstock.
email:
info@copenhavenfarms.com
12990 SW Copenhaven Road
Gaston, OR 97119
www.copenhavenfarms.com
503-985-7161
FAX 503-985-7876
FGN | AUGUST 2019 | 23
http://www.copenhavenfarms.com
August 2019

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