FIRST ANCHOR BOOKS EDITION, APRIL 2011
Copyright © 1972, 1975 by the Foxfire Fund, Inc.
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Anchor Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Anchor Books and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
“Soapmaking,” “A Quilt is Something Human,” “Making a Hamper Out of White Oak Splits,” and “Making a Basket Out of White Oak Splits all originally appeared in The Foxfire Book, © 1972 by The Foxfire Fund, Inc. Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc.
“Purple Martin Gourds,” “Dipper Gourds,” “Brooms and Brushes,” and “Cornshuck Mops, Dolls, and Hats” all originally appeared in Foxfire 3, © 1975 by The Foxfire Fund, Inc. Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-307-94831-1
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
A Note About The Foxfire Americana Library Series
Soapmaking
A Quilt is Something Human
Making a Hamper Out of White Oak Splits
Making a Basket Out of White Oak Splits
Purple Martin Gourds
Dipper Gourds
Brooms and Brushes
The Aunt Celia Wood Variety
Scrub Brushes
Cornshuck Mops, Dolls and Hats
A NOTE ABOUT THE FOXFIRE AMERICANA LIBRARY SERIES
For almost half a century, high school students in the Foxfire program in Rabun County, Georgia, have collected oral histories of their elders from the southern Appalachian region in an attempt to preserve a part of the rapidly vanishing heritage and dialect. The Foxfire Fund, Inc., has brought that philosophy of simple living to millions of readers, starting with the bestselling success of The Foxfire Book in the early 1970s. Their series of fifteen books and counting has taught creative self-sufficiency and has preserved the stories, crafts, and customs of the unique Appalachian culture for future generations.
Traditionally, books in the Foxfire series have included a little something for everyone in each and every volume. For the first time ever, through the creation of The Foxfire Americana Library, this forty-five-year collection of knowledge has been organized by subject. Whether down-home recipes or simple tips for both your household and garden, each book holds a wealth of tried-and-true information, all passed down by unforgettable people with unforgettable voices.
SOAPMAKING
When we talked about having an article on making soap, I remembered my grandmother saying that she was going to make some to sell at the October Harvest Festival in Dillard, Georgia. I asked Ma if she would mind having an audience. She said she’d be glad to have us, so one day right after school four of us hit it up to Ma’s to watch. I was glad to have someone excited about meeting Ma. I knew she was a great person, and now I had the chance to share my enthusiasm with someone else.
She was all smiles and ready to go when we arrived. After she had added all the ingredients, she let all of us take turns stirring the soap.
Ma thought some of our questions were pretty funny, like when we asked about it being too harsh to wash your skin in. She said she’d be proud to wash in it, and that it gets you as clean as “regular” soap. When we asked about putting perfume in the soap, I thought she’d never stop laughing.
When we left that evening, we not only had some pictures and a reel of tape, but also several bars of homemade soap.
ANDREA BURRELL
The following photographs show Pearl Martin, Andrea’s grandmother, demonstrating the steps involved in making soap with “store-bought” Red Devil Lye. The captions are actual portions of the tape recording made there.
ILLUSTRATION 1 “You put two pints and a’half a’water and one can lye—Red Devil Lye—in your pot. You got to stir it til this dissolves good; then you got t’add th’grease to it. Then after you add th’grease, you got t’stir it for twenty minutes.
“Lye’s dissolved now. Grease, this is th’grease. You just have water and grease and th’lye. This is breakfast bacon grease. You can have anything. I had a man th’other day offered to give me mutton tallow. You know—to make it out of. I think I’ll take him up. I’ve always used hog grease myself—five or six pounds for this here.”
ILLUSTRATION 2 “This is beginnin’ t’get thick now. Looks a lot like chicken gravy don’t it? I wish this’s a’little darker because homemade soap’s always dark. Well, this is homemade soap, but it’s not like we used t’make it because we used’t’drip th’lye.”
ILLUSTRATION 3 Can you wash your clothes in it? “Yeah, you can. Just take that, y’know, like we used to—we took our clothes and put our soap on ’em and rub’em and boil’em. People don’t do that now. And I ain’t afraid t’wash my hands in it! That there lard kills th’lye.” Why do you stir it so much? “It requires it. It wouldn’t make if you didn’t dissolve it good. You got t’get it thick like jelly, y’know. Y’can’t leave jelly til it gets right.” (L-R: Elizabeth Rickman, Andrea, Emma Jean Buchanan, Mrs. Martin)
ILLUSTRATION 4 Did you ever add perfume to your soap? “I’ll tell you, we never did care. But you know, people nowadays like yourn’s ages, youn’s thinks it’s something terrible, but we never did care. We just had t’old smellin’ lye soap. Now I could put some perfume in this, and it’d just be perfumed up like yourn’s. I’ve got some t’put in it youn’s thinks it’d make it pretty. But we never did care. We always just made it and washed with it and we never thought nothin’ about it. But, of course, I guess lots of people nowadays thinks it’s fancy t’sell it that ways, don’t you guess? I believe I’ll try this just to see—here she breaks up with laughter—reckon it wouldn’t kill it no ways would it? If it’d do anything t’make it puny, you’d hate t’put it in there laughing.
“Youn’s want me t’put perfume in there? I can perfume it up for youn’s if you want. But I’ll tell you; if for me, I like t’smell that. It smells like old times. I’ve washed with homemade soap s’much—it smells like homemade soap.
“Now you’d think that’d get on your hands, but that doesn’t get on your hands at all t’amount t’anything. But ’course now, I wouldn’t want t’comb m’hair or do anything like that. I’d want’a wash a little. But, why you can wash your hair in that! It’ll bring th’ dirt out just as good as anything. You needn’t worry about takin’a’bath in that. It certainly won’t hurt you. I’ve took a’bath in it many a time. If I had’n’a known what lye soap was it’d scare me t’death. You needn’t be scared of that though.
“Well, don’t you guess that’s about enough?” At this point, she leaves the pot. She’ll stir it again in about half an hour, and then pour the thickened mixture into a shallow cake pan to harden overnight. When hard, she’ll cut it into blocks with a paring knife, lift the blocks out of the pan, and put them in a basket for sale later.
ILLUSTRATION 5 “Daisy, when she went t’th’ Fair last year, she got some. She got a’little piece—well, if you was t’cut off a little slice there it’d be about like she got. Her hand was chapped or somethin’, and she got it t’rub on her hands, and she give a quarter for her’n. I told ’em I couldn’t sell that. I cut that in two, I’d hate t’ask a quarter fer’t.
“Well, of course, soap’s about a quarter now. Oscar got six cakes th’other day. It’z a’ dollar and a quarter. That’z nearly twenty-five cents apiece wadn’t it? And them cakes, I measure them t’that, and they a whole lot littler than that. Of course, they act like they nice soaps, you know it d
oes.”
The following excerpts from recent tape-recorded interviews explain the process involved in dripping your own lye.
MRS. PEARL MARTIN: “We’d make soap whenever we got out. People using a fireplace—you had t’clean your fireplace out pretty often, and when y’got’y a gum full, you’s ready t’go drippin’ it off.
“We used t’put th’ ashes in a big wooden gum like that tree there, and it’d be holler. Then we’d drip that—just pour water on it and drip it, and then that’d be lye, y’know. We usually used hickory ashes. It takes a whole big gum full.
“Th’gum’s got t’be way up on somethin’—settin’ up on somethin’—and it’s got t’be up high. And you’ve got t’drip that off and make your soap out of it. If you started that morning, you might get through by dinner; you might drip it and get it made in a day. It ’uz just like water—just poured like water, y’know. That’uz water poured in there, and water come out, except it’uz brown lookin’: y’know. You’d have t’go once in a while and put th’water to it t’get enough. Just let it drip ’til y’have enough t’make your soap with
“When y’make it with that lye you dripped, you’ve got t’keep a fire under it. You’ve got t’boil it—put it in a washpot and build a fire around it and boil it a whole long time because you’ve just got th’lye and th’grease, y’know, and you’ve really got t’boil it t’make it thick. It’s just like jelly, y’know, before it’s soap.
“Then pour’t in a churn, you know, or somethin’other. Anything’s tin rust’es.
“We’d use it ever how we had it. We used t’never have it hard. If you made just a little bunch, y’could get it hard, but if y’made a pretty good bunch, y’couldn’t thicken it s’good.
“And then whenever we got out, we’d have t’make us some again.”
MRS. ALGIE NORTON: “You have t’first build a hopper (ILLUSTRATION 6) with a spout to it—a little trough—and then put planks or boards up sloping again’it, and then y’put ashes in it, and put shucks down—or straw—in th’bottom t’keep th’ashes from goin’ through. An’ pour water on ’em, ’bout a gallon or two at a time ‘til it gets t’drippin’, and you set some kind of a container under th’spout t’catch th’lye.
“Then y’have a big washpot, and put it in that and get it t’boiling good. Put’cha in about ten or fifteen pounds of lard or any kind of grease. Then y’just keep a’pourin’ your lye, lettin’ it boil ’til it thickens down about like syrup, and that’s what they used t’wash with (ILLUSTRATION 7).
ILLUSTRATION 6 A crude ash hopper, lined with paper and filled with hickory ashes, stands ready to work.
ILLUSTRATION 7 This large washpot, containing dripped lye and lard, has been heated to produce a soft soap.
“If y’wanted to, you could put any kind of perfumes or anything in it t’give it a good scent. And y’could take your mutton taller or beef taller if y’wanted to and use it in place of lard, and boil it down hard enough to cut out into blocks.
“Most of th’ time they dug out a trough out of a big log t’keep it, ’cause it’d eat anything up in a year or two if y’didn’t. And pour it in there and cover it up with a plank; and then y’dipped it out when y’wanted t’use it.”
MRS. CARRIE DILLARD GARRISON: “You had t’save your ashes. We always burned hickory wood whenever we could. So when we got ready t’take up th’ ashes, we had a big barrel with both ends out of it, and we had it on a slanted board. We had a trough t’catch th’lye all ready. And we’d wet th’ ashes and put’em in a ash hopper and save’em.
“We usually waited until th’ spring of th’ year t’make our soap, and in th’ meantime, we’d save up all th’ old grease that happened t’accumulate around th’ place—pieces of taller, suet, things that we didn’t eat—and cook that out.
“And then we’d carry th’water—nobody ever had running water in those days—we’d carry th’ water and throw over th’ ashes and drip th’lye. Then we’d put th’grease and lye in a pot and boil it down ’til it got hard; and then we’d use that for soap.
“It sure would clean clothes too. Used t’stir it with a spicewood stick—I believe it was on th’new moon.”
MRS. HARRIET ECHOLS: “We’d strip up these soft corn shucks and put in t’thicken th’soap.
“If they wanted, as they called it, flavored or perfumed soap, they got th’ little heart leaves from th’ woods where we find th’ little brown jugs in th’spring [ginger]—you remember. So that would make th’ flavored soap. They would take out some of this and put it in another vessel and put th’little heart leaves in t’flavor. Just let th’ heart leaves sit in th’soap; and when they cut it out, they pulled th’leaves out. That flavored th’soap—made it smell good.
“We used about two pounds of grease to a gallon of lye.”
A QUILT IS SOMETHING HUMAN
The local Harvest Festival in the fall of 1969 provided ample proof that the interest in quilts has swelled. So teams of Foxfire editors began to gather the necessary facts. They attended quilting bees, copied patterns from quilts that had been hidden in trunks and attics for years, and, at the last minute, turned up the most elaborate Friendship Quilt any of us had ever seen (ILLUSTRATION 8).
Originally the plan was to find all those patterns that were native to this county. That soon proved to be impossible, for quilt patterns were like ballads—they moved constantly from community to community over surprisingly great distances. Media such as farmers’ journals, newspaper columns, and even quilt pattern companies spread them farther. Even more complicating is the fact that patterns which were carried from the East with the first settlers in these mountains have been around so long that many of the owners consider them Rabun Gap patterns, which of course they are not. Worse, we have at least one pattern in hand that is known by at least three different names, and no one even guesses at where it came from.
At last it became obvious that the only solution was to include a sizable sampling of patterns from quilts that had been made in Rabun county by the mothers of grandmothers alive here now. And that’s what we’ve done. Each of the twelve patterns drawn for this chapter by Foxfire’s Bill Roland has been known in this county for at least seventy-five years. We have not included some others that are equally authentic but are readily available in any of the numerous books on quilting patterns. These patterns include Wedding Ring, Double Wedding Ring, Attic Window, Monkey Wrench, Drunkard’s Path, Dutch Doll (or Little Dutch Boy, Little Dutch Girl, etc.), Gate Latch, Four Doves at the Well, Double T, Lonely Star, Trip around the Mountain, Rocky Road, Basket, Nine Diamonds, and Odd Fellows.
ILLUSTRATION 8 This Friendship Quilt held by Mary Garth and Frenda Wilborn is nearly a hundred years old and bears fifty-five names.
But why the dramatic revival of interest? One explanation might be the statement made recently by Mrs. Claude Darnell: “They’s lots of people that wants to go back to th’ old times.” That, perhaps, but more. The simple fact is that quilts were handmade by people for people. Every phase of their production was permeated by giving and sharing. From the trading of scraps and patterns and the actual production in “bees” to the giving away of the final finished work, quilting was an essentially human activity. There is something about a quilt that says people, friendship, community, family, home, and love.
Aside from the quilting bees themselves, many customs and beliefs grew up around them. They were passed around, shown off, and given away. Patterns were traded like bubble gum cards. Especially beautiful ones became widely known. For example, Mrs. Grover Bradley told us in a recent interview, “Aunt Bede Norton had a basket pattern—just as pretty a basket as you ever saw; handle and all!” Grandmothers made at least one for each of their grandchildren to keep, and then pass on (ILLUSTRATION 9). A belief grew up that, “If a young girl slept under a new quilt, she would dream of th’boy she was going to marry.” And especially fines ones were used to cover the bed on Sundays (“Sunday Quilts”) and when company came. But by all co
unts, the most attractive custom must be that of the Friendship Quilt, discussed in more detail later in this chapter.
Basically, the quilt itself was, and is, a pretty simple project. It consists usually of a bottom lining, a stuffing of cotton—or two to three pounds of home-grown wool—a top lining, and the top itself. But there the simplicity stops. The top was made of a number of separate squares joined either side to side, or separated from each other by cloth borders. Thus a quilt that measured sixty by eighty inches might take forty-eight 10-inch squares, sixteen 13-inch ones, or any of a number of other combinations. Each square was usually identical in pattern but distinctive in color. All the squares for one quilt might be made by the same person, or they might be made by a number of different individuals who later got together to produce the final work (ILLUSTRATION 10). Sizes varied according to the beds the quilts were to fit, or the requirements of the individuals for whom they were being made.
ILLUSTRATION 9 Algie Norton with a quilt she pieced for one of her grandchildren. She has made four quilts for each of her eight grandchildren, three for each of her great-grandchildren. (So far!)
ILLUSTRATION 10 A quilting bee on Betty’s Creek in Rabun Gap. The quilting frame is suspended from the ceiling. As each row is finished, it is rolled under to enable the ladies to get to the next one easily.
ILLUSTRATION 11
ILLUSTRATION 12
In addition, the patterns for the squares were as numerous as the quilts they embellished, as were the number of ways each pattern could be handled. With Poplar Leaf, for example, each leaf could be set so as to point in the same direction, or they could be set in groups of four to produce an elaborate four-square pattern. The same could be done with such patterns as Gentleman’s Bow. String quilts, on the other hand, were simply scraps of cloth pieced together any way they could be made to fit. Sometimes they were strips set together, horizontally, in squares. With the Friendship Pattern, the ends of each strip interlock with the sides of two others.
Household Crafts and Tips: The Foxfire Americana Library (12) Page 1