Mystery Item Answer

Here is the answer to yesterday's mystery item:

A tobacco basket! 

(I need to apologize to everyone.  I was just informed tonight that the basket size is approximately 40" x 40", not 3' x 3' as I said in yesterday's post.)

************************

When you harvest burley tobacco you cut the plant down close to the ground. Then you spear the tobacco stalk about a foot from the cut end with a wooden stick. (A removable metal tip is placed on the end of the stick to puncture the tobacco stalk.) You can spear 5-6 stalks of tobacco per stick.

The tobacco is then propped up in the fields for about a week so that the sun will wilt it and turn it yellow.  The sticks of tobacco are taking to a barn and hung up to dry for 3-4 months. At this point the tobacco turns brown and is brittle.

Then you wait for a really damp day to grade the tobacco. The dampness makes the leaves become moist and pliable so they do not crumble. Grading means the tobacco is separated into different categories depending on the quality of the leaves.

Once the tobacco is graded, it is put into "hands". (Hands just means how much tobacco can be held in an individual's hand and then it is tied at the stem end with another tobacco leaf.) Then the "hands" are packed into the tobacco baskets to be transported to market to be sold. The manner in which the baskets are packed allows several hundred pounds to be packed in a basket. Sometimes another basket would be placed on the top to secure the stack of tobacco.
(The above information is from an interview with Steve Dean. He grew up working in tobacco with his family.)



My dear friend, Paula Rakes from the Galax,Virginia area, shared the following photo with me of her Uncle Reese grading tobacco.

Here is a video of burley tobacco being harvested:

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, five golden rings, four colly birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Dirty Potatoes

I worked as a historical interpreter for 18 years. During that time, I heard some very funny and interesting comments made by visitors. Here is one of my favorite stories.

I took care of an heirloom garden and prepared the food in a fireplace as part of interpreting life on an 1890s mountain farm.  One day, I decided that I was going to pick a mess of beans and dig a few new potatoes to cook with them.  While I was digging out some of the new potatoes, a couple of ladies, who were in their 30s, walked up.  After welcoming them to the farm and sharing pleasantries, I told them that I was getting some beans and potatoes from my garden to cook for dinner. (I was standing in the garden and they were standing on the pathway leading to the farm and there were several rows of potatoes between us.)

They stood there and watched me for several minutes with puzzled looks. Finally, one of them said, "Well, how are you picking any potatoes?. . . I don't see any on those vines!"   I explained that potatoes are a root crop which means that they grow underground.  Silence.   One of the ladies said, "You are KIDDING!  UNDERGROUND?!"  EWWWW....in the DIRT?!"  Obviously, these ladies did not grow up on a farm!

I held one of the potatoes out for them to inspect.  Since we had a brief shower early that morning, there were small clumps of mud stuck to the potato. This was enough to make the women hesitant to actually TOUCH the potato.   As luck would have it, there was a big, pink, earthworm wiggling around in one of the clumps.  Both of the women must have seen the earthworm at about the same time because they both let out a scream.  After one of the women calmed down, she said "Well, of course, you will throw that one away because of the worm."  I explained that the worm was in the clump of dirt, not in the potato, and that I would just wash the potatoes off.  Her reply?  "I can't BELIEVE that you are going to eat that after a worm has been on it.  I am just glad that McDonald's does not get THEIR potatoes from places like this!"
I replied, "Er, well, yes, ALL potatoes are grown in soil with worms crawling around!

Another scream.  "Oh my Gawd!  I will NEVER eat french fries again!"



While this was extremely funny at the time, it is a sobering incident. It is sad that so many people are so far removed from our agrarian roots. It is no wonder that people do not even realize that they should be alarmed by all of the chemicals and genetically modified foods that we eat everyday.