The following is through the courtesy of the descendants of Louis Anderson and Carrie Jacobsen (Jakobsen) and The Fort Dalles/Anderson House Museum in The Dalles, Oregon. It is rather long but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did. MY GRANDPA’S WONDROUS FARM by Helen Saunders Among my fondest childhood memories is my Grandpa’s farm. We lived in a district ten to fifteen miles southeast of The Dalles, Oregon, called Pleasant Ridge. Our place was a mile from the schoolhouse, and Grandpa lived about a mile and a quarter beyond, up on a hill. We entered his place by driving up a long lane between two rows of large locust trees. The shade seemed like heaven on a hot dusty summer day, especially when the trees were in bloom and filled the air with that lovely, pungent, sweet odor. Grandpa had the largest house and best facilities in the area, so that many neighborhood social functions took place there. There was intrigue and mystery about his place, as there were quite a few “no-no’s” where we children were not allowed – by ourselves, anyway. There was a rather imposing log house with a big kitchen, and a pantry which always held a supply of fresh sour-cream cookies where we kids were always welcome. (I have tried all my married life to duplicate that recipe, but I know I will never quite get it.) There was a wonderful chiming clock, with carvings and filigree, on a shelf in the kitchen and a large, square-shaped table with straight high-backed chairs which had fancy engravings across the top. There was a wood burning range with a hot-water tank along the side of the fire box, and a big wood bin beside the stove. The floor was bare scrubbed boards with rag throw-rugs. Grandma and Grandpa slept in a small room behind the stove which could be entered from either the kitchen or the living room. The living room had wall to wall carpet, padded with straw, and made of woven rags, which I am sure my Grandma made as she had all the “makings” for such things in a little room under the stairwell, where we children were only allowed a quick peek. The ceiling of the living room was covered with some kind of material which was kept white-washed. In there was a platform rocker and a sort of chaise lounge covered with velvet. There was a flat-bellied wood heater and a square table on which stood a kerosene lamp. A lower shelf on the table held a magical stereoscope with a number of wonderful pictures which could carry you to far-away places. Off the living room there was a small covered porch, which was seldom used, but every summer there would be a bird’s nest on top of one of the posts. On the opposite side of the living room was a guest room which was even smaller than the other bedroom. There was just enough room in there for a double bed which had high carved boards at both the head and foot. It was covered with a hand-crocheted spread with long fringe all around, and there was a tiny square table in the corner by the window. All the windows had crisp white lace curtains, and the walls were covered with pretty paper. Behind the entrance door to the kitchen, where we always came in, was a stairway to the upper floor where there were two very large bedrooms. One was where my mother and her sister slept, and the other was for my two uncles. Besides these rooms, there was a large open area which was nearly empty except for a very fascinating old sewing machine which made a chain stitch. On the wall of the stairway hung two scary-looking guns, which we were warned never to touch, so because of them and (I presume) the open stairwell, we children were not allowed up the stairs. Under the stair was the little room I mentioned before, where Grandma kept all her torn rags and bright colored yarn. She used much of the yarn to make stocking caps, scarves and mittens which we always received on the Christmas tree. In there was also another sewing machine and a rug-loom, along with the scraps of material for making quilts, aprons, etc. Instead of a back porch there was a long, narrow room where Grandma washed the clothes and the men would wash before coming in to eat. In the center of the room was a shallow well which Grandpa had fixed so that it would fill automatically with drainage water from the roof. Grandma kept her butter, and things she wanted to keep cool, in buckets which she dropped down near the water with the ropes. The log barn was huge, with a big hayloft. In what we would call a daylight basement were the stalls and mangers for the livestock, two of which were Jude and Jenny, the only mules I have ever been acquainted with. We children were not allowed to play out there. I suppose it was because Grandpa was afraid we would fall through the holes where the hay was dropped down to the mangers. There were numerous other buildings, such as a woodshed, a tool shed, a root cellar, a granary and, of course, a two-seater “privy” as Grandma used to call it. But one of the most intriguing was the blacksmith shop where Grandpa used to do wonderful things for himself and for the neighbors. Sometimes he would let me pump the bellows, which was a big thrill. I liked to watch the sparks, and see the iron he was working get really re-hot and then turn almost white. It was fascinating to watch him pound it into the shape of a horseshoe or whatever. The most wonderful building of all, though, was the ice house. He built this little house out by the pond which he had made by damming a gully that ran down behind the barn; it was up the hill from the barn, so the barnyard did not drain into it. He filled the little ice-house with sawdust, and in the winter he and the men folk would cut large squares of ice from the pond and would bury them in the sawdust. This way the ice would keep all summer, and when we would have a big neighborhood picnic we could always look forward to having delectable home-made ice cream, which I am sure every child that lived in that vicinity at that time can still remember as fondly as I do. Note: The Anderson House is open for viewing located at the Fort Dalles Museum, 15th & Garrison Streets, The Dalles, Oregon. Fort Dalles Museum is the original dwelling of the Surgeons Quarters of Fort Dalles. Fort Dalles is celebrating their 150th Anniversary of the founding, May 20, 2000, of (Camp Drum) renamed Fort Dalles. For more information contact: 541-296-4547. Earline, Columbia Gorge Genealogical Society http://community.oregonlive.com/cc/genealogy 78th Annual Wasco County Pioneer Association Reunion May 5 & 6, 2000 The Dalles, Oregon http://w3.gorge.net/dzopf/wcpa.htm