p. 10 | TWO GIRL FARMERS by Emma H. Adams

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Nov 14, 1895

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 21, No. 45.

TWO GIRL FARMERS.

By Emma H. Adams

BY EMMA H. ADAMS.

In the city of Los Angeles, near the southern suburbs, stands one of the few early American homes yet remaining in the lower metropolis of California.

The house, a frame structure, is surrounded with venerable trees, live oaks chiefly, which impart an antique air to the premises. Like other specimens of that tree on the Pacific Coast, these oaks have thrust out massive branches which turn hither and thither, forming great elbows, and offering secure seats for a half dozen gleeful boys and girls, at the same time.

The writer recalls a breezy afternoon when one of these obliging growths was fairly alive with little people in high spirits, yet as safe from falling as would birds have been on the same kindly boughs.

The owner of the charming house, a native of the Empire state, and a delightful woman, emigrated to the coast, via Panama, in the early gold days of California.

Mounted upon one of the comical-looking burros then so indispensable to all kinds of traffic across the dreaded isthmus, the then young girl made the provoking trip at the head of a long cavalcade of persons and parcels bound for numerous California points. On the way, certain rarely interesting incidents occurred, but these not pertaining to our subject, must remain yet longer a part of the unique unwritten history of emigrant life on the Isthmus of Panama.

Sharing the home of this pioneer woman, to-day, are two little granddaughters and their parents. The former, Grace and Katie Mellia, are respectively thirteen and eleven years of age. Being active mentally to an unusual degree, something quite unaccounted in the way of employment had to be devised for these girls. After much serious thinking on the subject by the senior members of the household, miniature farming was suggested as a solution of the problem.

“This form of amusement,” said the guardians, “promises several excellent results,—abundance of exercise out-of-doors, greater contentment at home, the cultivation of taste in the young farmers, the forming a habit of observing the interesting operations of nature, and the acquirement of knowledge which will prove useful to them in the future.”

Accordingly, from one side of the ample ground surrounding the dwelling, territory was laid off for two small farms, the soil of which was remarkably fertile. Both little properties lay open to the genial sunlight all day long.

Grace became the freeholder of a parallelogram fourteen feet long by six feet wide, while Katie held the title to an estate somewhat smaller and having irregular boundary lines.

The youthful proprietors were encouraged to carry out their own ideas as to buildings, fencings, variety of crop, and class of stock.

Not long ago the writer paid a visit to these tiny homesteads. The results of the experiment had then become both satisfactory and highly interesting.

Each farmer possessed a miniature residence, barn, and carriage house, the necessary farm vehicles and implements of husbandry, several “hired hands,” a variety of horses and other stock.

Grace had bisected her acres by constructing between the parts a broad avenue, graded smoothly, and kept nicely trimmed along the margins.

One-half of the domain was devoted to orchards of fruit trees, “because,” as the owner informed us, “in Southern California fruit trees are highly remunerative property.” Chief among these were the peach, plum, apricot, and lemon. The buildings, a diversity of grains, and a line of table vegetables occupied the remainder of the estate.

The dwelling, a rustic cottage with sharp gables and constructed of slender eucalyptus branches laid up skillfully, was an attractive affair. Pierced by a single door in front and by one window in the rear, it was adorned with smilax and other vines wonderfully thrifty.

On the cool north side of the cottage was the well, dug in the genuine soil, over a foot in depth, and half filled with sparkling water. Therefrom the refreshing fluid was drawn, not in a “moss-covered bucket,” but in a tiny tin pail, depending from an old-fashioned well-sweep.

Mexican custom in Southern California demands that in every house there must be an oyer—a tall, bulging jar with a small aperture at the top—in which water is kept always cool for drinking purposes. This convenient custom Grace had adopted. Hence there stood in one corner of an airy little summerhouse near, one of these quaintly-shaped vessels, serving an important purpose on warm, busy days.

From the cottage, graveled avenues led away on either hand to streets bounding two sides of the little freehold. In front, a lawn extended, mantled thickly with Kentucky blue grass, and framed in by trees, eucalyptus, pepper trees, and geraniums. On a small area next this lawn, waved a crop of fragrant chrysanthemums, “Grace’s favorite flower.”

In the rear, there flourished a field of that beautiful plant which the dark-skinned Latin people called lino, but which the energetic Anglo-Saxons named “flax.” Every feathery stalk of the crop shot out of the ground as erect as young hollyhocks, while over the delicate green surface rolled waves of golden sunlight, driven by the brisk March wind.

Farther away, with a broad driveway intervening, stood the barn, roofed neatly with eucalyptus bark, and containing lofts for hay and stalls for horses, while in the tiny farmyard wandered the young agriculturist’s “blooded stock”—every creature fabricated out of tin.

In the garden, a “hotbed” was making a success of rooting a variety of choice rose slips. There also, as the seasons arrived, other

plants were started on the way to welcome fruitage or to beautiful flowering.

A fencing of strong twine outlined the little domain. Strong, short posts were driven at the corners. To these the cord—“drawn taut, so as not to sag,” as Grace remarked—was carefully tacked.

In one of the driveways, as if just returning from doing an errand, appeared “one of the hands”—a tin man—perched upon the high seat of a tin market wagon. He seemed to exert himself to the utmost to hold in the powerful black draft horse—fashioned out of tin—which he was driving.

Inquiry brought out the statement that the “hand” had been to town “for supplies.” In the vehicle were his purchases, supposed sugar and crackers, one box of each.

Katie, barely less experienced than Grace as an agriculturist, conducts her farming operations according to methods of her own. In laying out her land she departed entirely from the rectangular plan. The residence occupies the center of a circular space, which is fenced around by a flourishing hedge of ground-ivy.

Lying all around the mite of a dwelling are areas of rye, oats, alfalfa, and bright flowers. These areas are irregular in form and size, and are bounded by curves instead of by straight lines.

The dwelling, artistic in style, and roofed deftly with eucalyptus bark, was originally a cracker box of the ordinary size. Of its humble origin, however, it gives not the slightest hint, so dainty yet so homelike is it.

Other buildings on the premises are a barn, carriage house, and commodious shed for stock. Tied in one of the stalls, at the hour of my visit, stood the family carriage horse, a handsome, mettlesome light gray, which once formed part of a promiscuous stock in a toy shop. I was gravely informed that “an engine and train of cars aroused not the slightest fear in the creature,” and consequently he was “perfectly safe for women and children to drive.”

Near the cottage, tossing their shapely heads, and stamping the ground impatiently, was drawn up a span of splendid black tin horses, attached to a shining spring wagon. The vehicle contained sundry provisions, destined, we presume, to relieve some family in distress.

In the plotting of their ground, in the selection of their crops, in the choice of fruit and flowers, not less than in the effective ornamentation of the lawns, these bright young girls had exhibited marked difference in taste and judgment. There was manifested throughout an individuality and independence of mind which was the most suggestive feature of the whole scheme. In the keeping their premises faultlessly clean, however, and in the housing their farming implements carefully from fog and rain, they were a unit.

Now, lest it be inferred that, while merely playing at farming, the young toilers had acquired no real knowledge of the pursuit, it should be said that such inference would be far from truth.

They understood well at what seasons many kinds of crops should be sown or planted. They knew that some soils and some situations are better adapted to certain kinds of crops than are others. They had learned that in favorable localities in Southern California successive crops of oats, alfalfa, and some varieties of vegetables may be raised annually. Both were familiar with the methods of starting plants from cuttings, and of propagating roses and other shrubs under glass.

Both knew to what extent and how often fertilizers should be applied to soils in need of them. They were aware that for some purposes fertilizers in liquid form are preferable to the same material in a dry state.

Not to mention its physical benefits, their play farming led these children to become earnest observers and students in the delightful realm of plant life. And not this only. Thereby their thoughts were elevated, though unconsciously, and their appreciation of the exquisite beauty and variety of the things they were growing was greatly increased, as was also their reverence for the exceeding power and skill of Him who spoke simply, and the world of vegetable wonders came into being.