C.S. Lewis famously said, “The homemaker has the ultimate career. All other careers exist for one purpose only–and that is to support the ultimate career.” Homemaking– creating and running a home. Is it a profession superior to all others? A woman’s highest calling? Of course not; there is no such thing. Each of us has our own individual calling and whatever we’ve been called to do in this life, we should do it well. But, homemaking is foundational to society, and that’s what makes it the “ultimate” career. As goes the home, so goes the world.

No play can take place without actors on the stage–they’re essential. But how well would those actors function if no one was working behind the scenes opening the curtains, creating the sets, or giving the actors their cues? Not well at all. It’s the same way in a home. A 19th century journalist and actress named Kate Field (oddly enough, not a homemaker herself) summed it up well: “The world would go on the same if there were not a woman in the professions. It would come to speedy ruin if there were no women in the home.” As homemakers, we’re the ones who create the environment that gives our family a refuge from the outside world and the support for the responsibilities they have outside the home.

In spite of the individuality of the profession, women are social and crave community. We like to collect things: recipes, patterns, pretty things, letters, advice, memories. We also like to share. Whether face-to-face or via a screen, we look for companionship and ways to help each other. We want our friend to know how we got our baby to sleep through the night because it might work for her, too. We tell our friends about the new recipe we discovered. We crave each other’s wisdom and encouragement.

I grew up in a family where my mom was a full-time homemaker. I learned about keeping a home because it was part of life. She never gave me formal lessons in how to cut up a whole chicken or make a bed or can tomatoes. Working alongside her meant that I picked up many skills without realizing it.

Even so, I wasn’t an expert homemaker when I got married, not by any means.

-There was the time I learned what happens when you experiment and add too much shredded zucchini to a meatloaf. (Yes, it “stretches” the meat but it remains a gelatinous mass that never will solidify. Then you have nothing to offer your husband’s friend for dinner when he comes by to help with a plumbing project.)

-And that time I thought I’d speed up the process of canning pickles and put them in the pressure canner. (That one still boggles my mind. What was I thinking? I wound up with 7 quarts of dilled cucumber mush.)

-Or the one summer I didn’t manage my time well and took on way too much. An elderly lady friend ran her finger across my dusty furniture and suggested that she come over and clean for me, assuring me that her services would be affordable.

No matter how many skills we have, somehow it’s different when we’re actually setting up the systems and managing a home on our own. Homemaking changes constantly and as we go through various stages in family life, we need to develop different skills. A little guidance makes it all a little easier.

Women in the past were often separated by distance and didn’t have the ethereal technology that we do today. So when they couldn’t meet in person, they continued to collect and create, but luckily for us, they wrote and shared in a more lasting way. They wrote letters, books, and magazine articles. They saved sewing patterns and handwritten recipes and scribbled notes in book margins.

We’re the same at our core, but two things make our times a little different. First, the last one hundred years was a time of disruption to the generational system of passing on housewifery skills. With fewer homemakers working in the home, the sharing cycle has become more sporadic. Many homemakers today haven’t had mothers or grandmothers who were homemakers, so they’re learning everything on their own.

Second, modern society tends to segregate people by age and life stages–singles here, mothers of preschoolers in that corner, empty nesters over there, with everyone loyal to their generational label (which somehow, is always superior to every other generation). But that’s often like hoping a classroom of 10-year-old boys will learn life skills from each other. They’ll learn things, all right, but when they all have the same limited life experience, wisdom will be in short supply.

Ideally, we would seek out opportunities to live our lives alongside other homemakers–older than us to gain the wisdom they’ve learned, and younger than us to extend our support and to receive new energy. I believe it’s also worthwhile for us to look at the past for inspiration. And that is where my primary interest is and will make up much of my writing on HearthKeepers.

Reading the writings of women of the past gives us a different perspective and draws us into a sort of camaraderie. None of it should be taken as gospel or divinely inspired any more than today’s writings are. They weren’t perfect and didn’t have life figured out any more than we do. But it’s often like getting some insight from an older female relative, or the one you never had.

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Here’s some timeless encouragement for the homemaker, written in 1906:

“The strenuous efforts necessary to thoroughly cleanse and put our homes in order are strengthening in themselves, to both body and mind. There is joy in work, even in such work, in the ability to bring about our ends, to make home neat and comfortable and happy for those we love. We are truly co-workers with God, as we go forth into the fields and garden and place plants and seeds within the influence of the natural elements. He has given this earth land for its constant renewal, sure that in due time they will grow into flower and fruit and come into harvest.

And we are co-workers with God in influencing and training the souls for eternity that He has placed in our charge, and should be as sure that our efforts will be rewarded. ‘The heart of her husband does safely trust in her,’ and ‘her children shall arise and call her blessed,’ should be our constant encouragement as we cheerful, faithfully, and hopefully go our daily rounds, doing our best. The end of our humble efforts reaches far into the future, yet its fruit comes to us daily in signs of growth in love and character.”

When you seek out other homemakers of all ages, whether in real life or through the pages of history, you’ll be assured that your hard work is worth it. You’ll be encouraged by someone who’s already gone through it that the baby will eventually grow out of this stage. You’ll get some tested advice on prioritizing your time. And you’ll come to realize that we all, frequently, have no idea what to make for dinner tonight.

I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

Paid subscribers can opt to receive bonus articles and extras by mail in a collection we call the Homemaker’s Club. Sign up now for September’s mailing.

What I didn’t mention in that article, though, was the best overall strategy for saving money, better than shopping the sales and buying in bulk: Stock and cook from your pantry with basic ingredients. I’m talking about focusing on the most basic meal components you can buy, things like

• flour, sugar

• potatoes

• rice

• eggs

• canned meat

• oatmeal

• milk

• beans

• cheese

• seasonal produce and long-storage produce like carrots, onions, and cabbage

Because this is the internet, I’ll say right now that we all have our own definitions of “ingredient.” Some say a can of beans is a processed, convenience food. By a strict definition like that, so are ketchup and peanut butter. But to me, and those of us just trying to feed our people, ingredients are the building blocks to make a meal, and something we wouldn’t typically serve on its own.

Considerations of an ingredient pantry:

• Convenience and prepared foods aren’t often the healthiest and verge toward junk food. Think frozen dinners, cereals, snack foods. Anything that gives you a shortcut to preparation—pre-assembled, pre-portioned, made shelf-stable through preservatives, etc—means a higher cost to the point of being stupid expensive.

  For an example, compare the cost of pre-portioned packets of instant oatmeal to a canister of quick oats. The packets are double the price.

  

• Maintaining an ingredient pantry means that I have the components for making a huge variety of meals, just in an unassembled form. That extra step of cooking from scratch requires some advanced thought and planning. (Sometimes I’m not motivated enough to make it, and in the case of sweets and junk food, that’s not always a bad thing.)

• When I use ingredients, any version that I make will undoubtedly be healthier than what is readily available to buy. For example, my go-to custard-style ice cream recipe is milk, eggs, sugar, flour, vanilla, and cream. No gums, colors, soybean oil, etc.

• Ingredients are multi-purpose. Cornmeal can become cornbread, fried mush, hush puppies, pancakes, fried fish batter, muffins, etc. Think of all the ways to cook a potato. Hamburger Helper will forever be Hamburger Helper and a box of granola bars will always be just that.

• However, it also means that when I don’t have staple ingredients on hand, I’m basically handicapped and can’t make anything else similar. If I’m missing a crucial ingredient and can’t make biscuits to go along with dinner, I probably can’t make cornbread or focaccia and I can’t switch gears and just make pancakes for dinner, either.

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By the way, this article is not one of those “Perfection and How I Attained It: Five Simple Steps to Become Like Me.” Hardly. It’s partly because I’ve gotten sloppy lately and need to get myself back on track that this topic is on my mind. Since I ALWAYS keep sugar and baking soda on hand, I assume it’s there and forget to check my stock. And when I never check, oddly enough, I can run out of things and only discover it mid-recipe. And then life suddenly isn’t so fun.

Running to the store for that one item and then having to go again two days later for one more thing gets old fast. So I’ve been evaluating my pantry to determine the exact foods I expect to find in my pantry at all times. Variety is fun, but there are ingredients I use nearly daily. I’m dusting off (and updating) my inventory list of pantry must-haves. I use it to double-check my pantry every time I make a grocery order or shopping list.

How I make an ingredient pantry work for me

• I prep ahead–in a way. I don’t do those big batch meal prep days and make dozens of meals for my freezer. I find them exhausting and often don’t like the results. But once a week or so, I’ll make a double batch of whatever I’m already making that I can freeze to use in the next couple of weeks. It could be flour tortillas, meatballs, muffins, gnocchi, or enchilada sauce. Just having one component of a meal ready seems to save a lot of time the next time around.

• I have tried and true staple recipes, things that I can make with barely a check at the ingredient list and others I don’t even need to look at anymore. Pinterest can show me a million recipes for the “best biscuits ever” but I’m not tempted to try any of them anymore; I have a recipe my family and I are happy with.

  While I love variety and trying new recipes, they often take extra time and concentration. Having a solid repertoire of meals in my rotation gives me that bandwidth to experiment. (note to self: compile my staple recipes. Would anyone else be interested in them?)

  

• I’m not so rigid about it that the system stops working for me. If you peeked into my pantry right now, you’d see boxes of macaroni and cheese, clearly not an ingredient. Is from-scratch mac & cheese better, healthier, and relatively easy? Of course. But when a day goes sideways I don’t need to spend my time and mental energy whipping up a bechamel sauce. It might not be much healthier, but it’s less expensive than Door Dash.

• Like I mentioned in this article, just because you can make something from scratch, doesn’t always mean it saves you money or is worth your time. Maybe there’s an easier alternative. Most of the time, it makes more sense to buy doughnuts rather than devote half a day to make them from scratch. Even better, though, I can spend 20 minutes making a coffee cake or scones instead and my family is just as happy.

• We just don’t eat many treats and snacks. Because they take time and effort to make, they’re for weekends and special occasions. I focus on meals instead of all day grazing and mindless snacking.

In a future week, I’ll share how this looks in real life.

I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

Paid subscribers can opt to receive bonus articles and extras by mail in a collection we call the Homemaker’s Club. Sign up now for September’s mailing.

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Did ever a farmer or a farmer’s wife have his work so well in hand that at each day’s close he could say: “I have done nothing that I ought not to have done and have left nothing undone that I ought to have done and I feel as fresh and strong as a bull moose.” I haven’t yet met that farmer. I think Longfellow was on a farm when he wrote:

“Labor with what zeal we will

Something still remains undone;

Something unaccomplished still

Waits the rising of the sun.”

I think he wrote that along about July or August when haying, hoeing and harvest overlapped and sat in each other’s laps.

Did you ever see a time during the summer school vacation when you could spare the boys--the boys that are just getting big enough to hoe their row and load the hay and milk? If any part of the year runs on winged feet, it is the days between June and September when the children are home from school. According to my observation, a vacation on a farm is a rare thing. It was on our old farm certainly.

We deliberately broke the old tradition this season. And this is the way it came about. Just before school closed, the principal of our high school, who is a fine boy-man, invited the Little Boy of our farm to join a boy-camp in the mountains, there to spend a week. A week right out of the middle of weed-time leaves a big hole, and a Little Boy, (now nearly as tall as his mother) out of a family of three leaves a bigger hole. He had never been away as long as that. But it was inevitable. Sometime or other he would have to camp without his parents. It took about two weeks of deliberation to persuade us that this was the time.

When it was finally decided and the morning had come, we took him to the rendezvous of the expedition at the village, where a strong team (of horses) and a covered mountain wagon were in waiting. As the boys with their bundles of dunnage piled into the van, faces radiant with expectation, I’d have given a cookie to be a boy again for a week. For pure, unalloyed pleasure in large chunks, just hand me the first day of an expedition of this kind. You don’t get anything quite so high class in later years.

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

It was in the dusk of the evening with just afterglow enough to show the dead-white blanket on the old, dead volcano, that two tired, bumped, and dusty parents and one tired little mare drew up in sight of a little tent far up the steep, and one great, big, long-legged, sunburned, little boy came bouncing down the crooked trail to meet us.

“And didn’t you get homesick at all?” his mother asked after the wonders of the week had been rehearsed.

“If I did, I didn’t show it,” he said stoutly. “But my! The other boys are awfully homesick.”

“Would you have had a better time if we had been here?” (this from his fond mother.)

“Great shucks, yes! But say, I caught six brook trout yesterday, and I found, Oh, such a dandy waterfall! Can you come with me tomorrow and see it?”

We staid [archaic spelling for “stayed”] and saw the waterfall and his ma caught trout under his tutelage and explored the canyon and found the waterfall and took a photo of it. Then we came home by easy stages, exploring as we came. This outing took nine of his days and three of ours right out of the middle of weeding time.

Yet six months from now the weeds will be as dead as though we had staid at home, and sixty years from now, if Heaven lets him stay that long, Little Boy will still keep the memory of the bivouac by the roadside, the campfire under the fir trees, the roaring, twisting, ice-cold streams in the deep woods, the far view over mountain ranges from the snow fields of the old volcano, the trout under the log in the brook, and the waterfall in the canyon that he found himself and gave his own name.

Life is not all for work, for the killing of weeds, and the raising of cabbages. There are places in it made expressly for the pure squandering of hours, for strenuous idleness, and for memories. These mix in well with daily work. It glorifies daily work to drop it now and again and get the view from the top of the mountain.

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I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

Paid subscribers can opt to receive bonus articles and extras by mail in a collection we call the Homemaker’s Club. Our next mailing is in September.

Right in the middle of Roosevelt’s New Deal program of the 1930s, one woman (via a homemaking magazine) suggested that homemakers adopt their own new household policies.

The title caught my eye and made me do a double take. For the most part, the women in the old homemaking magazines I read seem to love their lives, not eager to propose an overhaul to their lifestyles.

However, this housewife’s plan for a “new deal”— a fresh perspectiv and approach to her responsibilities would have been a good reminder of what’s ultimately important to a homemaker. Ninety years later, I still think it’s applicable, or at the least, the spirit behind it is. She sounds like a fun, creative lady. Enjoy.

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I, for one, think it’s high time that we hear something about a New Deal for women. I make the motion, second it, and unanimously decide that we women initiate the following New Deal to begin on the next sunshiny day.

1. A couple of hours off for rest and recreation each afternoon--and by recreation I don’t mean darning socks or struggling over Junior’s homework.

2. A discard of all those faded, shapeless house dresses we’ve been wearing and some new ones of bright gingham, print or lawn (pink’s a nice color. So’s yellow. And don’t forget the ruffles).

3. Less attention to dusty corners and more to face and figure--after all, John doesn’t notice a shiny house so much as a shiny nose.

4. More smiles and less spanks for Junior.

5. More kisses and compliments for Friend Husband--”My, you’re good looking this morning, darling.”

6. A rousing, peppy song several times a day, even if it does frighten the cat (she needs some excitement.)

7. One meal a week of everything that you like instead of cabbage for John and cheese straws for Junior.

8. A beautiful verse or quotation committed to memory every day.

9. Time off to attend home demonstration meetings, club pow-wows, and other things “just for myself.”

10. Less worrying--after all, what difference will it make a hundred years from now?

And remember--good humor is to a home what salt is to soup.

What would you add? For me, it would be a daily mandatory coffee break on the patio.

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I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

Our paid subscribers can opt to receive bonus articles and extras by mail, as a collection we call the Homemaker’s Club. Our next mailing is in September.

In no particular order:

• I’ve lived in a school bus (for a summer), a single-wide trailer (with six other family members), a former private school (complete with a gym), and next door to a cheese factory (handy during cheese curd emergencies). All good times.

• I’ve been to 30 national parks… so far.

  

• I’m definitely the kind of person that absorbs energy from other people. I have to be dragged away from social gatherings.

• It’s a Wonderful Life is my favorite movie.

• I occasionally do freelance proofreading and book editing. Getting to correct typos brings me great satisfaction, so you’d think my posts would be flawless. But alas.

• I may be one of the few people in the world who doesn’t think chocolate should ever be paired with peanut butter.

• Although we’d known each other for several years, my and my husband’s first “official” date was a steak feed at the Legion followed by a tractor pull also attended by his fraternity brothers and we still laugh about that.

• Soapmaking has been my longest-running crafting obsession. I turned it into a business for over 15 years, partly to justify making multiple batches every week.

  

• My parents once bought a house in a small town. Town busybodies spread the word that Maud’s grandson (my Dad) had come back and bought her house. The problem was that although we shared the same last name, we’d never even heard of Maud, much less had any prior familiarity with the town itself. A few years later, though, we found out that we were, indeed, distantly related to her.

• Some time later, I chatted with an older woman at church and when I told her my last name and the town I lived in, she said that as a young woman, she had rented a room in a house owned by a lady named Maud. Yes, my house. As it turned out, Maud wasn’t looked upon with fond memories. She had a reputation for being a snoop and for spying on her tenants. Maybe that’s the reason my branch of the family didn’t hang with Maud.

• I can’t whistle.

• I am a Christian—Reformed Baptist for those who like denomination labels.

• You can take a girl out of Wisconsin, but it will only increase her love for Kwik Trip.

  

• Let’s just say I’m not known for my athletic abilities.

• Or a keen sense of direction.

• And especially not for being useful in any medical situation where body parts and pieces that should be neatly tucked under a person’s skin suddenly aren’t.

• But I can gut a chicken any day of the week and it doesn’t phase me (as long as it’s not one of my pet chickens).

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• I was homeschooled back in the early days, when few people knew what it was and parents were genuinely concerned that they would be reported to truant officers and put in jail.

• I have an uncanny knack for wearing sandals that fall apart in public—a wedding, Bass Pro Shop, church, guided tour through a cave...

• I taught myself to read before kindergarten with a Dr. Suess book.

• I have a rooster named Wayne (after John Wayne, naturally). He runs to me every morning and lets me pick him up. I never thought I’d ever be fond of a chicken, much less a rooster, but he’s a sweet boy.

  

• My Australian friend keeps me supplied with Vegemite because I love it so.

• Children with special needs have played significant roles throughout my life, and as much as I’ve tried to help them, they’ve given me more. And they’re SO much fun.

• My first car that I bought was a 1980 AMC Concord, burnt orange and brown, with the comfiest velvety burnt orange interior. I named him Oliver and yes, he was ancient when I bought him but still running when I sold him.

• My (current) favorite coffee drink is unsweetened cold brew topped with honey cold foam.

There. I do believe we all survived.

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I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

Hot is hot, even if you are acclimated to the heat. In the U.S., the population of the southern states was significantly lower before the invention of air conditioning, with good reason. But even so, they survived--year after year.

A while ago, we had a power outage that lasted 4 days. A neighbor told us this is a frequent thing and to expect it regularly. This experience got me wondering how past generations coped without air conditioning, so I started digging into old homemaking books. The most interesting thing to me is that there wasn’t much fuss and advice on the subject. I was a little disappointed, actually.

Undoubtedly, people in the past took summer more in stride than we do and so were better acclimated to all the seasons and didn’t think it was necessary to share advice. I remember once giving an Amish friend a heads-up that the weather the following week was going to be especially hot. The news had been full of heat advisories and warnings. However, she gave me a blank look, as if to say, “Of course it will. It’s summer.” Yet, she was the one living without electricity and all the amenities like fans and air-conditioners.

Anyway, much of this will be obvious, I’m sure, but here’s what I found in the material I have.

Water

Soaking your feet in water. I remember reading about an Amish woman who did this while peeling potatoes on her porch and tried it. Even if your water isn’t icy cold, it does a fantastic job of cooling your whole body off. Add some Epsom salts and you can have a little foot soak.

Sponge baths. We actually did this before when we were without electricity and decided it was life-changing and morale-boosting. This was something my farm-raised, Depression-era grandma grew up doing, and I’m sure, everyone else. When visiting her as a kid and on nights when we didn’t have a bath, we’d have to wash down our arms, legs, and face in the bathroom sink. Highly recommend this way to cool down! And it uses very little water for those that had to haul water.

Wet sheets. They often hung dripping wet sheets across doorways and windows, so the water would cool any nighttime breeze that swept through.

Air Flow

No window screens. “The best writers on ventilation do not approve their use whether of wire or mosquito netting, because they don’t allow air enough to pass through their meshes to properly supply the rooms.” (1884)

I have noticed this. Most of the time, the breeze that comes through a screen is nowhere near as strong as the breeze that comes through an open door. And depending on the angle, there are some windows that never seem to let a breeze through. The writer instead advocated for awnings on windows, something you don’t see much these days.

Even if it’s true, going without screens means giving the local wildlife an open door to your home—not an insignificant problem, in my mind. She addressed that and claimed that flies coming in through open windows were an overrated problem. “Where there is food, there are flies,” she claimed, and if food is properly covered, there won’t be flies. Where can I get her brand of flies?

Transoms. Transoms are those little windows above a door. I think you can only find them in old houses with high ceilings, but their purpose was to let heat (that rises) escape from a room. (And all this time we thought they were just a way for Sylvestor to sneak up on Tweety...) Nice in theory, but not easy to implement today. I’ve never seen functional transoms over windows or doors in new home construction.

Piazzas

This was the subject that got the most attention when talking about summer living—piazzas. I think most of us would call them patios these days. People turned covered outdoor areas into living spaces in the summer and used plants and screens to add even more shade. Instead of trying to stay out of nature, they went out into it and spent as little time as possible indoors.

The difference in temperature between full sun and shade, especially with a breeze, is significant. Shady areas outside, with even a sporadic breeze would feel much more comfortable than a stuffy house.

Besides living areas, piazzas became dining rooms, modified kitchens, and even sleeping areas. Sometimes they slept on cots, covered by wet bedding. I read several comments that piazza (summer) living was slower paced, with lowered expectations on productivity, something we disregard completely today.

I know this list is just a small sampling of the strategies they would have used to cope with summer heat, but it was interesting to me and I hope to come across more.

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Regarding the following piece on advice for homemaking in July: I did an incomplete cut-and-paste that didn’t include the introduction and date it was written but only realized it much later. However, I thought it was interesting enough to include with this post. It reiterates the idea of a slower-paced life in the summer. I think it was written in the 1910s but will update it when I track it down again.

Meal Planning

Make a change in your table to meet hot weather conditions. More fruit, more fresh vegetables, more fish, more salads. Less meat, less cake, and fewer heavy puddings. An ideal summer lunch for grown-ups is composed of three components. An adequate and well-balanced salad with sandwiches or rolls, fresh berries or fruit, and a cool drink, for which use fruit juices freely. You will find that even your masculines will occasionally hail with delight a substantial ice-cold salad--flaked fish, fresh peas, string-beans, diced potato, surrounded by crisp lettuce and dressed with French, mayonnaise, or boiled dressing--instead of the conventional hot meal.

Housekeeping

Many of June’s duties are equally imperative in July. Woolen garments hanging in closets should be shaken and aired at intervals during the entire summer. Sweaters, mufflers, golf hose and all such accessories worn only occasionally, should receive this occasional inspection. [I examine my golf hose more frequently, however. One can’t be too careful when it comes to one’s golf hose...] I do not approve of the plan, adopted by some, of airing the house in the early morning and then shutting all doors and windows during the heat of the day. The air is cool, but dead. Rather, keep windows and doors on the street and dusty sides closed. Close the blinds on the sunny side, turning swivels so that the breeze may enter the house.

Linen Care

A new set of sheets, four pillowcases, and six towels each year. This was the old rule given to young housekeepers in order to “keep the stock good.” Midwinter and midsummer are the times to make such replenishments. Unfold all napkins, when purchased in advance of need, and roll over a pasteboard tube. Otherwise the sharp creases in the linen wear through, even when laid away. Fold napkins in common use sometimes in threes or fours to equalize wear, as they always break first in the folds. Cotton dress goods are also marked down at this time. Purchase now if you make some of your small people’s clothes.

Slowing Down

Sew and “kitch” out of doors whenever you can! Neglect your house all your conscience will allow! Systematically plan to dispense with all unnecessary labor, and liberally construe the adjective “unnecessary.” In hot weather much of our cooking is unnecessary and much of our ironing is unnecessary. Too much elaboration in the making of children’s--and also grown ups’--summer clothes is unnecessary. Choose the “better part,” which is an unruffled temper, calm nerves, and a sense of leisure for present enjoyment for yourself and family. Give of your true self, unwearied to husband, children, and friends.

Gardening and Preserving

Conserve the surplus berries. Sweets concocted from the products of the July garden are canned currant, gooseberry, and raspberry, and jams and conserves, either separately or in combination. Try currant and raspberry, equal parts, either canned with a moderate amount of sugar to taste. Or, make into a jam with their weight of sugar. Take a housewifely pride in having a well-filled preserve and canned-vegetable closet and get as good a start as possible in July. Try vegetable combinations--diced carrots mixed with peas and processed are delicious; string beans and carrots are good and very attractive.

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I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

While not homemaking-related, this might be interesting for those who’ve enjoyed my book. Also, I recently realized that I never created a print version, so sadly, as of right now, it’s only available in the e-book format.

Some time ago, I was in the neighborhood of the Old Order Amish schoolhouse where I taught during my second year of teaching. I asked my husband if he could pull into the driveway so I could take a picture. The schoolhouse sits on the property of an Amish family but since the farmhouse was further down the lane, I assured him it wouldn’t be awkward.

I had taken several pictures of the community’s first temporary schoolhouse where I taught my first year, but for some reason, I never took a picture of this particular schoolhouse.

The outside has changed a little--part of the porch is now enclosed and a second smaller building sits on the gravel area where I used to park my car. The school bell that I rang to start the day and at recess used to sit atop a post outside the door; now it’s mounted below the peak of the roof and can be rung from inside.

I took the picture above, then to my husband’s horror, I tried the door of the schoolhouse. As I’d guessed, it was unlocked. I figured that if by chance someone came to investigate, I’d wind up in a nice chat with an old friend, or at the least I’d meet a member of the community who’d joined since my teachingdays. I was hoping that my boldness would attract attention. My husband didn’t even get out of the car to retrieve me, he just sat, appalled, wondering how he came to be driving a getaway car for a schoolhouse snoop.

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Because school wasn’t in session, much of the personality was missing--no charts or children’s artwork on the walls, no left-behind coats or lunchboxes, no mugs on hooks by the water jug. It lacked that comfortable lived-in look. Still, the room was remarkably unchanged.

Oh, the old blackboard.... I loved that workspace. During the course of the day, we’d use the entire length of this same blackboard for arithmetic problems, poetry memorization, and all the other assignments and announcements. I used one of those gadgets that mark five lines with chalk at the same time so the young scholars could line up and practice their penmanship.

Two of my other favorite things in the schoolhouse were the penmanship charts and the pull-down vintage map of the United States attached to the top of the blackboard (you can just barely see it in the top center). The penmanship charts above the blackboard were hand-lettered, and included the alphabet in German, their first language. The vintage map came from me. I had found it in a closet in my home, left by the previous owner who’d salvaged it from the public one-room schoolhouse he’d attended as a child.

This little desk bookshelf, where I kept all my teacher copies, was a gift to me from one of the school families. I left it to my successor and am glad to see all the teachers since have done the same.

No one ever stopped in to check on me and even worse, no one stopped to question my husband about trespassing. But after so many years, I was glad to at least get a peek and a few pictures of my old schoolhouse.

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I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

From 1913—It’s time to think once more about vacation. What? Not going to take one this year? Can’t afford it? Times have been hard—you’ve had sickness these last months, and your pocketbook is about empty?

But you need it, friend. How about that?

There are long weeks and months ahead when you must work; when you must not only give of your best. But make that best an efficient best. And you can’t do it if you’re not up to par physically, for however much one may push one’s self there’s a point beyond which Nature cries “halt!” You’re like a machine, friend,--finely adjusted, delicate of mechanism, capable of great things; but you must see that the machine is in working order if you expect to turn out work that is satisfactory both in quality and amount.

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A year or two ago, my pocketbook was empty, too. I’d had sickness; had done almost no work for a full year; and I, also, said-- “There’ll be no vacation for me this year.” And then I looked into the weeks ahead, and I saw the work waiting to be accomplished. I felt the need of recuperation, as you feel it now. I said,-- “But yes, I’ll have my vacation; and I will plan it so that every minute shall be rest; and best of all it shall cost me nothing, or next to nothing.”

In my room there chanced to be a long, wide window seat. I spread a rug over it, and piled it with cushions. I resolutely put my work out of my sight and out of my mind. Then I dressed the room in a holiday dress. A new fruit dish, piled high with fruit; a few magazines; a book I’d been wanting to read; one or two new articles—inexpensive, but seeming to make the room new,--and my vacation had begun. At the end I had gained in weight, in strength and vigor, and was ready to take hold of work with a new power and delight. You don’t need to take a long trip, or spend money for such a vacation, and you will find it well worth while. Try it for yourself and see.

Whether you live in one or two rooms, or in your own home,--whether you work in a factory, store, office, or are a busy housekeeper with your family about you, it is all the same. Make it your week.

Put aside worries. Forget work. Just relax, and live only in the minute as it comes and goes. Change your diet completely. I ate nothing but fruit. It’s a wonderful tonic. After the first day, you won’t want anything else. Even if you do, it will do you worlds of good to go for the full week without a mouthful of cooked food. Eat a few nuts if you like, if they agree with you, and drink much water. Be absolute and regular about it. At least eight glasses a day is none too much, and ten is better. Have certain times for it, and don’t neglect it.

Don’t put a single article on throughout the week that is not absolutely fresh. Above all, wear your very prettiest skirts and under-clothing. Don’t neglect the daily bath, either cold or tepid as you prefer. I find a small quantity of Epsom Salts in the water gives the skin a wonderfully fresh, active feeling. Invest in a new kimono [a robe]. You can buy one for 59 cents almost any time at a sale. But see to it that the colors are soft and restful, and such as you are especially fond of. There’s an inspiration in clothes. Try it, and see. Somehow, the sun seems brighter when one is absolutely fresh and dainty from top to toe.

If you are in the country, and can, instead of the window seat, or the couch, fix up a place under the trees,--either a cot, or a couch, or a blanket with a pile of pillows,--and spend the days there. But whether you are in the city and country, indoors or out, live idly; dream; watch the sky; breathe deep, full breaths many times a day; eat slowly. In a week’s time you will feel a new creature, with none of the work and strain incident to getting ready for some journey you cannot afford. Your pocketbook will be scarcely a bit thinner, and you will have no bills staring you in the face as result.

From Amalia— Like you, I’m left with many questions. What happened to all the daily work—is she ignoring it? Who’s doing the laundry to ensure every article of clothing is “absolutely fresh?” Where does all this fresh fruit come from? Do the children just run feral for a week?

I can imagine it now—my husband comes home from a long, miserably hot day working outdoors to find me lounging in a new robe in a window seat, browsing a stack of magazines. I tell him to pull up a rug and help himself to the bowl of fruit in the kitchen—for the fifth day in a row. What man wouldn’t be totally fine with that?

As unrealistic as this scenario is for modern us, it would have been equally ridiculous to most women in 1913, too, right? I wonder what women living without running water and electricity thought of these suggestions. I could easily pick apart the many flaws in this “vacation at home” scheme. Likely none of us can take a full week to just rest and relax, whether single or with a family.

However, I think it has validity as a source of inspiration to slow down and look for pockets of vacation. It reminds me of the current idea of seeking out ways to “romanticize” our lives.

Times are difficult for many of us, the author says. It’s the same 113 years later. Yet again, the scenarios are similar—empty pocketbooks, unemployment, no money for vacations.

Our household income was abruptly slashed last winter. Outside of a madcap road trip to visit parents and a few friends, we won’t be vacationing this year. No lounging on a beach or catching flights or lazy days on the train for us and that’s ok. That’s life. Besides, we all know that vacation feeling only lasts until you return home and get hit with everything that needs your immediate attention.

We don’t have to go to a different setting and do big expensive things to mentally and physically refresh ourselves. That’s been my biggest takeaway from this article. I’ve intentionally been doing things to make the summer season special, to “romanticize” it in budget-friendly ways. I’ve been perfecting crispy thin-crust pizza made on the grill. We keep our free-standing hammock easily accessible to use on days when it’s not unbearably hot. Turning on the patio lights encourages us to sit outside when it’s a little cooler. Every few days I make a different cold drink with tea, syrups, fruit, and lemonade. We’ve been eating homemade ice cream and watermelon and popsicles we’re not tired of it yet.

Like the author said, we can find a way to “make it work.”

I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

July seems like the perfect time to share this recipe I make frequently in the summer. I think technically it’s a sorbet because there’s no dairy in it, but “sherbet” is the term that we first used and has stuck in our home.

I originally found this recipe in a pre-1960s cookbook. (If only I noted which cookbook it was! A Farm Journal one, maybe?) I had decided to downsize my cookbook collection during a move a few years ago—silly me—but was intrigued by this particular recipe. The recipe was unusual enough to catch my eye, yet simple enough to try without complicated techniques or expensive ingredients. So, I took a quick picture of it before donating the book.

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As you can see, the original recipe called for a mix of prune juice and prune puree. (Hmmm.) I haven’t tried that, but grapes, black and red currants, strawberries, and raspberries have worked with great success. Pureed pineapple--it wasn’t so great. It had good flavor, but had a grainy, icy texture that wasn’t my favorite.

My formula:

1 1/4 - 1 1/2 c. fruit puree (which includes any added sweeteners, lemon juice)

12 marshmallows

Heat the fruit puree and marshmallows in a saucepan and stir until the marshmallows are melted. Cool, then freeze. I make mine in my thrifted electric ice cream maker (with the canister you keep in the freezer) but the original recipe says a simple container works too. That’s it!

What makes this recipe ideal is that I can keep ingredients in my pantry to make this—a can of fruit or fruit juice, some marshmallows, and sugar if necessary. It’s a simple treat—not decadent or over-the-top—but it means that I can make it regularly in the summer with little effort. The next time I make it (probably later this week!) I’m going to experiment with adding in some whipping cream, only because I have it on hand at the moment.

I make every batch to taste. Sometimes the sweetness of the marshmallows is enough, sometimes I add sugar. Sometimes I like to add lemon juice, other times I don’t. It really couldn’t get any easier and like I mentioned, the original recipe doesn’t even require an ice cream maker. I’ve always used mine to incorporate some air into it, but one of those new style ones is absolutely not necessary.

I prefer the texture of this recipe to other homemade dairy-free “ice creams.” It remains a softer consistency in the freezer so you don’t have a rock-hard block to partially thaw on the counter before scooping it. But, then, it does melt more quickly too, so you have to eat it fast-ish.

I made it recently with 1 1/2 c. of Jumex brand mango “nectar,” without any adding any additional sugar. Another winner.

A summer treat that’s mostly fruit with a few marshmallows? It couldn’t be simpler or more frugal!

A reminder—become a paid subscriber by July 8th to receive July’s Homemaker’s Club mailing. Read more about it and get all the details here.

I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

And another thing I found curious— in 1898, the author wouldn’t have had voting rights, yet she had definite opinions on patriotism and felt that women weren’t without responsibilities as American citizens.

In this great land of ours, there are not a few men, older and younger, who are so indifferent to the country’s welfare that they hold aloof from politics and lightly prize the freeman’s birthright, the ballot. They explain that bribery and corruption have invaded legislative halls, that primary meetings are the resorts of the vulgar, that gentlemen stand aloof from elections.

So charging their generation and their period, whether falsely or truly, with a great shame and sin, they do nought to improve matters, but simply play the coward’s part, and refuse to take a personal interest in the ruling of their own America.

Cynical, hostile, and indifferent, it is all one; they are practically enemies to the land which calls them her sons. A share in her government is the birthright of every man born into a free country, and if he despise his birthright and shirk its obligations, he is to be pitied and condemned.

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The Fourth of July used to be so kept by our people that it was an important educator in patriotism. Early in the morning we were awakened by the thunder of cannon from fort and fleet, or from the village green, then the children, rushing to the windows, saw everywhere the red, white, and blue of our flag, floating from roof and spire. There was a sense of music in the air, jubilant, ecstatic, throbbing and pulsating, in drum beat and bugle call.

By and by there was the parade, soldiers marching behind their banners, cavalry in stately procession riding down the street, and then came the fathers of the town, the ministers and elders and deacons, the city magnates, people of dignity and position, and the trade representatives, and by and by the Sunday-school children in white frocks and ribbon sashes, or in white trousers, and jackets with brass buttons, according--as they were girls or boys.

The Declaration of Independence was read, and everybody listened and absorbed its lofty sentiments.

Do our children still know the names of the signers of that immortal document, do they yet admire the bold screed of John Hancock, and the clear chirography [handwriting] of Samuel Adams and sympathize with the spirit of Charles Carroll to add “of Carrollton” after his name? We studied those names as we did our alphabet. Patriotism was part of our education. Not less were we taught to look upon America as God’s hallowed ark of freedom, the asylum for the oppressed of every land and nation.

“God save the Commonwealth!” we were taught to add to our prayers. “God bless our native land! Firm may she ever stand!”

Let our flag stream from the schoolhouse and flutter from the ships and wave over our heads as we walk through our streets. Only a bit of bunting? Yes, but it means liberty, obedience to law, protection to the weak, freedom of conscience, and equal rights for all men. Only a bit of bunting? Yes, but it means what men would gladly die for it; it is the flag of our country. God bless and save it! Every American woman should be familiarly acquainted with the history of her own country, its constitution and form of government. She should know that the stability and permanency of a republic depend upon the intellectual, moral and religious character of the people; upon this broad principle she must act, and endeavor to induce everybody to act, over whom she exercises influence.

-Margaret Elizabeth Sangster

Happy 250th birthday, America. You’re still the best….”God bless and save it!”

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I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

I had no idea such a thing existed, but I was happy to go and show them the soapmaking process. The club was made up of elderly women who had been part of the same club for decades. (Adorable!) I badly wanted to ask to join, but at that time, it would have taken too much time from my home responsibilities. They probably would have been shocked to have someone their granddaughter’s age wanting to join.

I think homemaking clubs have largely faded out, but that’s a shame. For decades, they were a thing. I went down a rabbit hole reading about them a while ago. Most of them were started through the USDA’s extension programs to teach women in rural areas skills like gardening, canning, and sewing. There were thousands of clubs around the country.

And when homemakers weren’t meeting together in person, they had magazines (like these in my recent article) and newsletters. I found this homemaker’s newsletter tucked into an old cookbook I bought. It’s from 1971 in Green Bay, Wisconsin. The women listed were just the assistants in the program. How many women were actually involved?

It makes me a little salty that I missed out on so much of the fun. Sure, I guess I could start my own homemaker’s club, but there are a few problems. 99% of you wouldn’t be able to come (all those cookies and just me eating them, not good). And more importantly, I’m not the last word on all things homemaking.

Running a home isn’t a very social endeavor. After all, we have our own homes and styles and we can’t run them remotely. Outside of social media connections, we’re kind of isolated these days. We’ve lost the comraderie of past generations with their occasional get-togethers and mailed monthly inspiration, and of course, fellow housewives in the neighborhood.

The Homemaker’s Club

I’ve long been wanting to do something that’s a taste of the old days but in our time. I think collectively we’ve decided this year that the digital world is useful but the analog life should have a place alongside it, right? And now, all of a sudden, getting personal mail is so rare that it’s become a special occasion.

Wouldn’t it be fun to get a real letter in the mail that contained a sampling of inspiration from the golden days of homemaking? Some encouragement and motivation that you can put to use in your modern home? That’s the idea behind the Homemaker’s Club, 2026 style.

To kick things off, give this post a heart through July 3rd and you’ll be entered to win one of five of our July Homemaker’s Club mailings. The Club mailings will be different every month, but will include things like recipes, bonus articles, crafts, etc.

For now, our paid subscribers will receive a mailing every other month (click “upgrade” on my profile to become a paid subscriber during the months we mail out the Club mail), although our goal is to send them out monthly in the future.

We’d love to have you join us!

I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

One thing I thought that I should address: Why do my Mom and I collect all these out-of-date books and periodicals?

We live in the present—we both have smartphones and air fryers and love ordering our groceries online. We’re not trying to live in denial that God put us in the here and now.

Homemaking is a conglomeration of skills, with limitless ways to make a home. There aren’t classes and In the last hundred years or so, we’ve lost a lot of the generational knowledge and comraderie that once existed among women. Some skills are obsolete (I don’t need to starch my husband’s collars and I haven’t blacked my stove in years—or ever), but some are worth revisiting and fitting them into our lives. We don’t have to live cookie-cutter lives modeled after social media trends. Besides, the peek into the past can be hilariously entertaining, too.

I neglected to show these last week. Can you even have a collection of vintage homemaking books without these books by Peg Bracken? The irony that some of my favorites are written by a woman that loudly proclaimed that she hated housewifery…

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Sewing

What amazes me about the housewives of old was the desire to make everything beautiful. The hours they spent stitching designs on things they used to blow their noses, cover a table, put their head on at night, sleep under, walk all over, and even clothing intended to be used hard and inevitably, stained, like aprons.

with pages and pages of stitches—

The embroidered rose above is one of the color plates in the book. Isn’t the shading gorgeous?

The quilt pattern collections are incredible. Women (y’know, “just” housewives) created and shared their own quilt blocks, many of which were complex geometrical designs. They stitched together masterpieces of art with literal scraps of fabric, and then put them on a bed and slept under them.

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Cooking

This category is the biggest of my collection. I wrote this article about my love for old cookbooks, but it needs a revision, or at least a part 2 because I have more to say. In the meantime, I’ll say that I seek out cookbooks from the 1930s-1960s. (As if I’ll turn down other cookbooks—haha! Not really!) But that era has ingredients and recipes that are still appealing to modern tastes, while having fewer highly processed ingredients.

I also snatch up any of those old community cookbooks I find—the ones that women compiled with their church or community organizations. Back in the day, Harriet wasn’t going to submit a recipe that sounded good but hadn’t been tested. No, she was only going to submit family favorities that reflected how her family really ate, so they’re reliably good recipes.

I love these Home Economics teacher cookbooks—

And not to brag, but I’m pretty sure I’m the only person in my neighborhood with the complete set of a Mary Margaret McBride cookbooks.

So there’s a quick look. Stay tuned, of course, since I’ll be sharing much more in the coming days!

Homemaker’s Club Mailing

For the last year, I’ve been thinking of ways to share more of these collections with you all. Starting in July, my mom and I will be mailing our paid subscribers a collection of bonus material. We plan to assemble a mailing every other month (July, September, November, etc.). Each one will be a different assortment of vintage bits, such as extra stories/articles, book lists, recipes, crafts, art, etc. July’s theme is Vacations & Special Times, 1930 style.

Please subscribe by July 3 if you want to receive the July mailing. (And shoot me a message with your mailing address!) We’ll be sending out the first Homemaker’s Club mailing mid-July!

I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

recently suggested that I give a “tour” of my vintage homemaking collection, that I love and from which I regularly quote and share tidbits here on Substack. Since you follow my page, you must like these little bits of history, too.

If you want to stop in some afternoon, (I’m free this Thursday and can provide the cookies) we could sit around with stacks of books and magazines. But you’re probably not in a position to do that—you have children to put down for a nap, you don’t know what you’re making for dinner, a 1,000 mile road trip doesn’t fit into your schedule on such short notice…. Anyway, it’s not the same as a visit, but I thought she had a good idea to share some pictures to give you a glimpse.

The tidbits that I share online come from not only my collection, but my mom’s as well. We both collect the same kinds of things, yet remarkably there’s nearly no duplication. We’ve always enjoyed sharing the best articles and stories with each other.

Like I mentioned in that note a few weeks ago, my collection is more modest than hers. But as I’m looking things over, I have more than I realized. Most of what I’ve accumulated has been from garage sales and thrift stores, with some things passed to me from my husband’s family. My mom built much of her collection back when things were just old, not “vintage” or “antique.” That means prices were a fraction of their current ones. (sob)

We both have things in storage and not easily accessible, but here’s a sampling from both our stashes. I’m going to break this up into two posts (maybe three?); I’ll post again later this week.

General Homemaking

This is the book that started my collection, copyright 1879. I found it in the bottom corner of a basement bookshelf in our multi-generational family home several months after we moved in. Score!

Most modern homemaking books have an emphasis on organization and logistics, i.e., the “science” of homemaking. There were plenty of similar books in the past, too, but also a tremendous emphasis on the “art” of homemaking in a style that’s not as common to see today. Much of it would be dismissed as sappy or overly sentimental today, but I find it endearing.

It was probably a reflection of the fact that a majority of married women were housewives, but the number of magazine-type publications relating to family and home was remarkable. Most of them were part national economic/political news (largely as it related to home life), part trends (the latest in books, fashion, inventions), part homemaking (recipes, crafts, activities for children, etc.), and a large part fictional stories, many of them by popular authors writing short stories and serialized novels. Basically, it was an all-in-one social media, delivered to your mailbox every month. Sigh.

The books on household hints are always fun to read. They’re not always relevant anymore, but they’re an interesting look into another era, and every once in a while I even remember to try something I’ve read.

Here’s one that I’ve yet to read but looks like fun, written in 1915.

The photos are gold and I’ll share more of them eventually, but here’s one I found especially adorable.

It’s been on my mind to share more of the gems inside these many materials and I’m working on a way to do that. I’m still working out details! I hope to be able to share more of my plan later this week.

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I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

I could talk about dozens of things (and will. You know it.) but today my topic of choice is the paper products that we buy along with our groceries every week.

It’s only been a fraction of time that humanity has had disposable paper products. I mean, Pa Ingalls never once took the wagon to town to stock up on paper towels. Napoleon wasn’t tucking a package of wet wipes into his jacket. Yet, civilization has made it up to this point, albeit less conveniently.

Paper products are renewable, which is great. And they’re very convenient. But they’re also expensive. How much of our household budgets go toward something meant to be thrown away almost immediately?

I’ll spare you up front. I’m not trying to convince you to switch to reusable toilet paper. Call me a phony tightwad, but so be it. I’ve never even tried it. If life comes to that, we’ll use it and survive, but let’s not face that until we must.

Fabric Napkins

These are my favorite frugal alternatives to paper products like paper napkins and paper towels. I don’t understand why they’re not more popular. They’re so versatile! I use them every day.

Here are ways I use them besides at the table:

• Cover food. They keep bugs and dust out of my milk kefir, kombucha, and rising dough.

• Wrap food in them when I’m on the go, as in, my muffin on Sunday morning because I didn’t have a chance to sit down for breakfast. They become a little tablecloth and inevitably, a napkin.

• In a pinch, I’ve used them as a hand towel or washcloth on the road, to clean up a spill in the car or wash my hands.

I have a handful of one-offs, but I have one set of 12 I found at a thrift store for $1 last year and a simple white cotton set that I “picked” for free while cleaning out the former home of an elderly lady. I plan to tea-dye the white set eventually when they start looking a little stained.

You can find fabric napkins in just about any thrift store and they’re typically cheap. Look for everyday cotton napkins and if you can find some with prints, even better. They’ll hide many eventual stains. You can even make your own easily with scrap cotton fabric.

Avoid buying the fancy heavy cloth napkins like you’d find in an expensive restaurant for everyday use. They don’t absorb liquids well and they’re always pure white--impractical on two levels.

Don’t feel you have to keep them pristine--that’s not the point of a napkin! Treat them as reusable but not a lifelong investment. Toss them or designate them as rags when they start to wear or get too stained.

Guests in my home always hesitate to use cloth napkins for fear of making extra laundry for me. I can assure you it’s not a big deal, even on a large scale. I grew up in a family of 13 and we used cloth napkins daily. If you think about it, if there are a lot of people in the household using cloth napkins, then there will inevitably be someone who can fold them. 1

But I consulted ye olde The Tightwad Gazette on this topic. The author ran the numbers (although the exact numbers have changed) and expected, confirms that it’s cheaper to use and launder fabric napkins than to buy paper ones. And as a fun fact, she estimates it would take about 200 napkins to fill a single load of laundry, so adding even a dozen to a load would have a negligible effect.

Cloth Rags/Washcloths

The cost of paper towels is ridiculous. And equally ridiculous is the family member who pulls off what feels like half a roll to wipe up a simple spill.

Use cloth rags. But for heaven’s sake, don’t buy them unless you’re just starting a household and everything is brand-new! Use old bath and kitchen towels and bathroom washcloths. Cut them into squares if they’re too big. They’ll fray a little, but it’s not even necessary to hem them. For dusting, use old cut-up t-shirts.

For the really messy jobs, it’s better to have sturdy material, like towels. Just because it’s reusable, though, doesn’t mean you have to keep reusing it forever. One of the best parts is that when you have a really messy job, you can just throw the rag away afterwards.

If you use cloth diapers, you can designate a stack of soft washcloths to be your reusable wipes—no concerns of perfumes or skin reactions. On a related note, last summer I sat across from an Amish family at Chicago’s Union Station. The children passed around an ice cream bucket with homemade caramel corn (a little lesson in economical travel right there) and when they were done, they wiped their hands on a damp washcloth the mother handed them, who then put it in a plastic bag she carried.

For draining bacon or anything deep-fried, our grandmothers used newspapers and brown paper bags instead of paper towels; the Amish still do. (Does anyone get a newspaper anymore?) If you don’t, use the non-glossy grocery ads that come in the mail. One woman I know uses the inside of a pizza box lid.

Kitchen Washcloths

Or dishrags, as my Iowa grandma called them. Washcloths are not having their day right now and I don’t know why. People are using sponges, bamboo-handled scrubbers and paper towels to clean their dishes and kitchens. I’ve noticed paper towel ads boasting about their durability, claiming they’re nearly as strong as washcloths. Why not just use washcloths, then? With a nice supply, you can change them out every day (or more often!).

I make nearly all our meals from scratch so I’m in the kitchen wiping counters and cutting boards a lot. I can’t imagine how many paper towels I would use. You can make up the money you would have spent on paper towels in a short time.

If you leave washcloths soaking wet for a period of time, they’ll probably develop an odor. Always wring them out and let them hang where the air can dry them out, even partially, between uses. As with all laundry, they’d benefit from time in the sunshine to sanitize them naturally. If smelly washcloths are an ongoing issue, boil them in a pot of water with a handful of washing soda and a splash of vinegar. You can do it more than once if the water looks scummy.

When they’re looking faded and not pretty and you feel like they’re not doing their best work for you anymore, add it to the rag basket. It will have a new life for awhile as a cleaning rag until someone uses it to clean up paint or whatever it was that didn’t agree with the dog’s digestion and then you can toss it.

Handkerchiefs

I know I’m getting into squeamish territory with this one, but hear me out.

Back in the day, people carried handkerchiefs all the time. Women kept them in their purses and apron pockets,2 men in a back pants pocket as part of their daily outfit. I remember my grandpa pulling his out to wipe the sweat off his forehead, or maybe wipe his nose. Even my dad carried one when I was young. I learned how to iron on his handkerchiefs.

When I taught in an Amish schoolhouse, every day I’d see little hands reaching into pockets for a handkerchief and a quick wipe of the nose or an occasional tear. Our school didn’t even have a box of tissues.

I don’t care how much so-called “lotion” they put in a Kleenex or how soft the toilet paper is, it doesn’t compare to the gentleness of a worn cotton handkerchief or even a bandana. It’s a game-changer when your nose is raw from wiping it so much.

Like fabric napkins, you can use a whole stack of them without adding much to your laundry loads.

“Real” Plates

Sometimes you have company and you don’t have enough plates for everyone. Or your water got shut off in an emergency. In situations like that, paper plates are a lifesaver.

But otherwise? It’s a plate. The easiest thing in the world to wash. Paper plates really don’t save much time or hassle if you have other dishes to wash or better yet, you have a dishwasher. If you’re cooking a meal at home, you’ll have other dishes you’ll need to wash anyway, unless you’re using only disposable utensils and throw-away aluminum pans. In that case, pull up a chair. We have a lot more to talk about.

Besides the cost, which isn’t insignificant, only the most expensive plates hold up well. I think there’s a psychological element to eating from nice dishes at a table compared to paper plates on a coffee table. A meal you’ve worked hard to make deserves the dignity of a nice dish.

If breakable plates aren’t the best option for your stage of life, get some of those printed melamine ones. It’s one less thing you have to add to a grocery list every month and you’ll never run out of them.

Parchment Paper

Parchment paper is handy, I can’t deny it. Maybe it’s always been common, but for whatever reason, I didn’t grow up with it in our home, so I’ve never relied on it. Instead of sliding the paper into the trash can after baking cookies or roasting vegetables, we just… washed the sheet pan. I don’t remember it being that agonizing of a chore and that was before I had a dishwasher.

Don’t Misunderstand…

I don’t actually have a problem with any of the products I’ve mentioned. I don’t think it’s wrong to buy them; actually, I have most of them in my house right now. They’re absolutely invaluable in an emergency situation and in many health and traveling circumstances. But I seldom use them in everyday life.

I haven’t even touched on everything; these are just a few products that I’ve noticed recently. But it’s a starting point if you’ve never tried alternatives to what most people would consider essentials.

If you’re looking for more ways to make cuts to your budget, eliminating one or two of these products, or at least reducing your use, could have a noticeable effect. How many loaves of bread could you buy or make with, say, $10 that you’d spend on paper products this week?

I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

However, most housewives could use extra money, after all, we’re typically living off one primary income. We’re a creative, enterprising group and we’re always looking for ways to make a little (or a lot) of money on the side.

A time-tested way for a homemaker to make some extra income is through a local farmers market. As far back as the days when Mrs. Proverbs 31 was selling handmade clothes at the market, women have found farmer’s markets (or is that farmers markets? farmers’ markets?) to be the perfect place to earn money and launch a small business, myself included.

In 1924, one housewife wrote about her local farmer’s market.

We are small fruit growers--farmers in general--and have marketed vegetables, eggs, butter, milk, cottage cheese, dressed and plain poultry, fruits, flowers. I have sold several hundred quarts of cottage cheese in ice cream containers at twenty-five cents a quart. We aim to put all produce in an attractive shape, sell between wholesale and retail prices, give good honest measure and do as we would be done by.

And that’s still the “aim” of modern farmer’s markets. (FYI...if you show up to a farmer’s market in most states with dairy products from your home kitchen, I’m fairly sure sirens will sound and you’ll be led away in shackles. Such is America these days.)

Much has changed and everything is more closely regulated than it was in 1924, but there are still many opportunities. Some markets specialize in food products only, while others include crafts and non-edible products but you’ll be able to find one that’s right for you. There’s a wealth of potential in offering something that the market doesn’t already have.

I was a vendor at a farmer’s market for several years. I found them to be a great side hustle for a housewife for several reasons:

Minimal Start Up Costs

Whether it be the price of seeds, baking ingredients, or craft supplies, the money required to start a market venture is fairly small. Because you only need to prepare one market’s products at a time, you don’t have to buy an exorbitant inventory of supplies on the front end. It makes trying out a market truly a low-risk endeavor.

As for vending, many markets require a tent, which is usually the largest expense. The other items--tent weights, cash box, tables, tablecloths, display furniture, etc.--can be cobbled together fairly cheaply and creatively. There are many strategies to take your market stand to the next level, but to start off, it doesn’t have to be expensive or complicated.

Flexible Time Commitment

Depending on your business, you can prepare (or grow) your market inventory alongside the tasks you’re already doing at home. That means you often don’t have to dramatically change your household routines, you just add in extra time to prep for market.

You don’t have to commit to long work hours. Farmer’s markets are typically half a day, once or twice a week. Besides that, they’re often held only part of the year, although some markets offer year-round vending opportunities. You’re sure to find one that fits your needs and commitment level. In any case, you can ask if you can sign up for just a single market day, instead of a full market season to get the feel of it.

I don’t mean to imply that running a stand at a market isn’t grueling and intense at times, but it’s a not a 9-5, either.

Reasonable income

Don’t consider farmer’s markets to be launchpads to quick, easy wealth. They typically aren’t. But, you can bring in a respectable amount of income every week. The longer you’re selling at the market, the more sales you’ll make as you build up a regular customer base. Market days aren’t always easy but they’re short, so your hourly wage away from home is nice.

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Real-time testing and feedback

If you have an idea for a business that fits within the farmer’s market parameters, they’re a fantastic way to test the market. It gives you a convenient chance to tweak (or completely overhaul) and perfect your concept. You’ll be able to talk to customers and get their feedback and opinions every week. You can see what sells well and what doesn’t before you invest a lot of money and energy into your new venture.

I’ve learned that you’ll always be surprised by the public. They have Opinions. Some are great but many you’ll file away under R for “Ridiculous: what are you even thinking,” but nonetheless, it’s valuable feedback.

I stopped selling at farmer’s markets after about 8 years of regular vending. However, while I was vending, I developed relationships with several shop owners who asked to carry my soaps and bath products in their stores. Thanks to those years at a farmer’s market, my business continued through wholesale and online accounts until I decided to “retire” after 16 years, at least for now.

A Few Tips

I don’t pretend to be an expert on farmer’s markets, but besides vending, I’ve also been a market manager and served on a farmer’s market board, both as vice president and an advisor. All that to say, I’ve seen a lot and have a lot to say on the topic.

Be consistent

If you’ve made the commitment to sell at a market, show up consistently. I’ve observed vendors show up for the first time on a “bad” day--the day of a surprise monsoon, the weekend of the county fair, or maybe there wasn’t an obvious reason. But after one day or a few of less than stellar sales, they give up. Do you always buy something the first time you see it? I don’t. It’s often only after seeing something several times that my curiosity will be piqued enough to investigate.

The market season can get long. My market was twice a week for 6 months. Everyone understands occasional absences, but customers will expect to see you regularly. Soon they’ll be bringing their shopping lists and referring their friends.

Be prepared

Selling at a farmer’s market is a gamble. Many days selling is pure joy--a sunny day with poofy clouds, not too hot, you’re under a nice shady tent, and your JOB is to enjoy it all, chat with passersby, and of course, make some money. Best gig ever.

But then, there are the days you’re just setting up and the sky suddenly turns to this:

Some days will just be miserable, that’s the only way to say it. Tornado warnings, pouring rain, 100+ degree days with no breeze, and yes, even snow. Sales are sparse and spirits are low.

Keep a stash in your vehicle with the same things you would use to go camping or on a picnic--bug repellent, sunscreen, a jacket, bandages, a tarp, a water bottle, and a poncho, plus market stuff, like tape, pens, extra change, and scissors. Market vendors are great about sharing and helping each other out, but you don’t want to be one of the perpetually needy ones.

On a related note: If you have a tent, make sure you have weights. Many markets require them for good reason. I’ve seen the damage caused by a tent blown into the side of a car by a freak wind. I’ve watched an overturned tent sail over other tents in slow motion, exhilarated by its first taste of freedom. You can buy weights specifically for tents or cobble something together yourself. Cinder blocks or buckets filled with rocks tied to the tent are cheap solutions.

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Remember the kids

This is one angle that new vendors often overlook. Most children nowadays have raised exceptionally obedient parents. It’s truly remarkable. Have a product that children will want.

In my case, I sold small soaps, molded in animal shapes. Every kid walking by seemed to notice these inexpensive little soaps and most parents were only too glad to buy their children something that wasn’t filled with sugar, or difficult to carry, like a giant pumpkin. I have to say there’s something endearing about a little fellow pleading passionately for a miniature hippo soap.

Maybe it’s a sales gimmick, but offering something for children helps morale and keeps interest high. Samples, child-sized products, and giveaways like coloring book pages and stickers make the day more memorable for everyone, especially the littlest shoppers.

Get to know the other vendors

Vendors who keep to themselves are missing out on a valuable part of the market experience. Growers and producers really know their stuff, and they are more than happy to share their advice and experience with novice vendors.

They may even help you with your business. When a customer asked about my ingredients I liked to be able to tell him that my beeswax came from Mr. Z, the honey vendor 5 tents down. Market customers appreciated it and for me, I could support someone who participates in my local economy, I didn’t have to question the quality, and I saved shipping costs.

Actually, the idea for kid soaps came from my neighboring vendor, who sold baked goods. I’d treat myself to one of her brownies every market and direct customers to her stand for a brownie of their own while she kept a lookout for soap molds at garage sales for me. Score.

Keep it simple

Farmer’s market patrons are typically health conscious; that’s usually why they’re shopping there, after all. They want to know about the products they put in and on their bodies.

It’s a general rule that simpler, more “natural” products sell better, although every market has a different tone. Likewise, some vendors find customers want plain ol’ tomatoes and bell peppers, while others clamor for specialty, unusual varieties. You’ll soon figure out your customers. Chances are, they’ll be quick to tell you.

But don’t try too much, too soon. Be OK with starting small and simple and gradually expand to meet the desires of the clientele you’ve attracted.

So all this to say, if you have a home-based business idea that you’d like to test, give a farmer’s market a try!

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I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

The following article came from a magazine written in 1906. This was a time when people still traveled in open horse-drawn carriages, used outhouses, hung laundry outside, and had minimal modern conveniences. If you keep that in mind as you read, the article is even more remarkable.

Now, 120 years later, we have self-contained homes, delivery services, unlimited indoor technology, and don’t really need to leave our homes unless we have outside commitments. If people back then needed encouragement to be outside, how much more do we need reminders to spend time outdoors?

• Live out-of-doors as much as possible.

• Time spent puttering among plants and flowers is not wasted, but most widely needed.

• The majority of women need a change of occupation, and this should be sought out-of-doors in summer.

  

• Cultivate an outdoor fad--flowers, vegetables, chickens, bees, berries, beans--anything that will furnish a pleasant change of work, accompanied also, if possible, with the prospect of gain, which will make it the more enjoyable.

• Or simply go out to rest, and enjoy the sights and sounds of nature with the children, rambling through the fields and woods, and when tired spreading a lunch upon the grass.

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• The days are long in summer--the day’s work, that is. Plan for a rest some time during the day of at least a half hour or an hour, and take it lying down, on the most comfortable bed or couch in the house, in the coolest most quiet spot, sleeping if possible. The utter relaxation of the body and brain that occurs when sleeping is in the highest degree restful, even if the condition lasts but a few minutes.

  Acquire the habit, if possible, of thus relaxing daily. A business woman who had formed the habit of lying down and dropping asleep for only ten or fifteen minutes at the noon hour declared that she felt as much rested and invigorated by it as by a night’s sleep. This is a most health-giving, strength-sustaining habit.

  

• Ride across the country whenever opportunity offers--every time the team goes to town--to call on friends along the way, or to attend personally to the family shopping and marketing. This simple contact with others at times “doeth good like a medicine.”

• If the good man feels that he is a better Christian to stay at home and rest on Sunday after the week’s work afield, give him that privilege free from criticism, but it may be unwise for you to do the same. It may be for the highest good of the family for you to drive alone with the children to church and Sunday School.

  You need the spiritual uplift you should receive from the sermon and the singing, and the lesson and discussion in the Bible class, and the children will for the habit of starting the week aright in obedience to Divine command.

  

• Try to attend the mid-week evening meetings, too. The quiet gathering at the close of a busy day is most restful, and the recital of the experiences of others and the “drawing near to Divine aid” will bring a renewed sense of power and peace.

• Don’t miss the woman’s gatherings. However humble the attempt, the pervading spirit of helpfulness towards humanity makes the work worth while and every little helps along any cause. And there is satisfaction in the thought that however limited the opportunity may be “she hath done what she could.”

The author doesn’t even address all the science that we now know about the importance of Vitamin D and sunshine and the potential toxicity in many of the materials that make up and furnish our homes.

Articles like this make me determined to spend more of my day outside, whether it’s looking over my garden, eating a meal, or just writing out my to-do list for the day. And wouldn’t you know? The more I’m outside, the less I’m using technology.

The importance of spending time outdoors is stressed over and over in old homemaking material, and I’ll have many more articles to share with you in the future.

I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

I can’t honestly say that I’ve ever planted flowers with the intention of sharing them—an occasional bouquet for a neighbor maybe, but never with a predetermined goal. The joy that flowers bring to others hasn’t changed and it’s one of those “cozy” hobbies that a homemaker can incorporate into her routine.

The following is a magazine letter to the editor, written in 1927.

A Constant Delight

Our flower garden is a constant source of delight to everyone who sees it. I say “our” because my husband helps me with it and he enjoys it as much as I do. Its flowers are mostly old-fashioned ones as zinnias, phlox, petunias, marigolds and poppies, along with lovely dahlias, nasturtiums, sweet peas, and doll-faced petunias that smile a sweet welcome.

There are quite a few children in our neighborhood whose mothers are too busy to raise many flowers so I let them have all of ours that they want.

We take a large bouquet of flowers to church every Sunday, as long as they last, and also send flowers to the sick and old people in our town.

My mother is 81 years old and is a great lover of flowers. I take her a bouquet whenever I go to see her. Her dear face just smiles with happiness when she sees them and she always asks, “What kind do you have this time, dear?”

We do not sell flowers; we just raise them for the pleasure and happiness we and others get from them and that is a great deal.

There is a hospital in the town in which my parents live. When we go to visit them, we always take some flowers for the hospital, too.

We save the seeds and bulbs every fall for any one who wants them.

A pleasure that is shared is doubled.

-Mrs. R. S., Illinois

The following letter to the editor is one Laurie and I included in our compilation A Housewife Writes, but it fits well here, so I’m including it, too. (affiliate link)

I love the simplicity and practicality of this idea—it wasn’t difficult to coordinate and didn’t put a financial strain on any of the guests, but for the “dear old lady” it was a gift that multiplied, for years, even. (And just for the record, you could throw me a floral shower any ol' time. That’s how I party.)

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A Floral Shower, 1910

She was a dear old lady and she lived alone with her flowers and birds and a big gray cat. Everyone loved her for her gentle ways and many acts of kindness. Yet when we wanted to do something for her, there seemed nothing that we could give her without hurting her pride and so bringing sorrow where we wanted to give joy. Finally the matter was settled and the result was so satisfactory that the story is worth passing along.

The minister’s wife suggested the plan, and a score of us saw at once how feasible it seemed. We would give the dear one a floral shower, not a shower of flowers exactly, but of plants and seeds and those things which she loved. In order not to duplicate too much we gathered at the parsonage a week before the date set for the shower.

When the time came, we marched in a body to the dainty little house where we knew our coming would be welcome, each bearing a tiny gift that we felt could not be deemed a charity. Not all the gifts need be enumerated but each would have proven a delight to any flower-loving heart.

A dear old lady bore in triumph a lemon tree almost as tall as the little girl whose gift of a geranium slip was just as welcomed. Some of us brought packets of flower seeds, rare ones which we had purchased for our own gardens but which we could duplicate. Some brought a slip from some favorite flower of our own in a pretty pot or jardiniere. Some came with seeds gathered last summer from flower beds or gardens and some with a plant from the florist, burdened down with its load of blossoms. The dear old lady was delighted.

-Edith W.

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I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

I was surprised, to say the least. Isn’t having a garden the most classic frugal advice? Everyone, it seems, had a garden and worked them hard during the Great Depression. Victory Gardens, anyone? This woman went on to say that if you factor in the cost of canning jars, lids, seeds, fertilizer, tiller, plus your time, you might as well just buy a few cans of vegetables and save yourself a lot of hassle and hours and hours of work.

Um, no. Just no. 1000x no. It’s like saying that it’s not worth cooking meals at home once you figure in the cost of pans, the stove, and cookbooks. But in case she’s not the only misguided person out there, I’ll say it:

If you’re looking for ways to live frugally, gardening IS a good way to save money.

There’s no getting around it: everything in life has an initial cost. But you have to play the long game. With a little knowledge and strategy, gardening and preserving your harvest WILL save you money, and quite a bit, too! I’ll die on that potato hill.

Nothing is a financial certainty. I’ll be honest, if you’re new to gardening, you probably won’t have a great harvest your first season. Like every skill, there’s a learning curve. And we’re dealing with nature here—late frosts, droughts, never-ending rain, pests. Every harvest is a victory no matter how experienced you are.

We’ve all seen people who’ve bought a flat of strawberries at full retail price, ingredients, and all the canning gear, only to make 6 jars of jam, at a cost of $10 a jar. Those are the folks who complain (rightly so) that canning is expensive. After their first attempt, they decide it’s all nonsense and give away their supplies. (To me, actually. True story.)

You can go all-in and do all the most expensive things—buy a tiller, put in raised beds, or hire a landscaper to do the work for you. It will take you a long time to make up for that investment. On the other end of the spectrum, you can collect 5 gallon plastic buckets or flower pots to use as planters, dig up a patch of ground with a shovel or borrowed tiller, or just re-purpose a flower bed.

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Here are a few ways to do it well and frugally:

• Avoid buying starter plants. They’re becoming more expensive every year to the point of being a rip-off and more ridiculous. Not every plant needs to be started ahead of time. The only people buying zucchini and lettuce starts are the brand-new gardeners who don’t know how easily they grow from direct seeding. There are many different ways to start your own seeds, but on the cheapest side, you can start seeds on a sunny windowsill in recycled yogurt cups covered with plastic wrap. It just takes planning and patience.

  Seed packets seem to hold fewer seeds and cost a little more every single year, so learn how to harvest and save your own seeds for the next season. Not all seeds can be harvested and saved easily, but many can. Seed libraries are great resources.

  Your best strategy is to learn all you can. Ask around for plant cuttings and learn to propagate your own plants. Make your own sweet potato slips.

  If you do buy plant starts, by them small, not in big pots. Be the person who looks them all over to find one with two plants in a single cavity. BOGO for you!

• Grow the produce that saves you the most money, especially if space is an issue. Potatoes, onions, and carrots are relatively cheap in the store and frankly, don’t always yield the best return for the space.

  

  Raspberries, on the other hand, give you a huge bang for the space. I couldn’t afford to buy all the fresh, organic raspberries we harvest from our small patch. Kohlrabi, beets, and okra are expensive to buy fresh. Certain peppers and ground cherries, for example, are specialty items that grow easily for me that I couldn’t even buy locally if I wanted.

  A package of basil seeds costs a couple of dollars. Just one of those seeds can grow to a plant the size of a small bush. For literally a few cents, you have enough basil to make several batches of pesto, plus plenty for fresh and dried use, all from that one plant.

  In the same way, a single packet of lettuce seeds will provide you days, or more likely, weeks of summer salads. (And you can let a few plants go to seed and collect them in an envelope, making next year’s harvest free!)

• Use your produce in ways that maximize your savings. A can of generic store-bought whole tomatoes is pretty cheap. A can of tomatoes with added jalapenos is slightly more expensive. Tomato sauce with herbs added becomes spaghetti sauce, which costs a little more. If I didn’t have the space to grow many tomatoes, I would focus on using them to make things like spaghetti sauce and salsa. As a bonus, every jar of spaghetti sauce represents a meal during the winter. It’s an efficient way to meal prep!

  In the same way, a few cups of berries might make one small jar of jam that would save you a couple of dollars. That’s a win. But those same berries you infuse in balsamic vinegar or make into a syrup is a bargain compared to the ridiculously expensive specialty store product. (They also make ideal gifts—special and one-of-a-kind for the recipient and frugal and creative for you.)

  

• Incorporate edibles in unexpected places. Maybe you can’t plow up your yard but have flower beds around your home. Why not put in edible plants? Only someone in the know will realize that all the different bits of greenery among the flowers are herbs. And vegetables like kale, chard, and carrots are visually interesting. Artichokes, peas, and even okra have beautiful flowers. Just plant them in clusters, not rows.

• Produce doesn’t have to be canned or preserved. That eliminates even more expenses. You can eat straight out of your garden from spring through fall and not preserve anything.

  Other produce doesn’t require special preservation. Your harvest of pumpkins or winter squash can be stored on a basement shelf, carrots can go in the fridge or in trays of sand, onions can be stored in a cool, dark corner, etc.

• Only grow what you’ll eat and eat what you grow. It’s obvious, but sometimes it’s easy to get swept up in all the dazzling varieties at the garden center. Be intentional and only plant what you know you’ll use. And if you’ve grown it, find a way to eat it all. If your zucchini plant has gone wild, find different recipes and commit to preserving or eating it every day for a month if you need to. You grew it to save money, after all.

  

Preserving

• Source used jars. If you want to can your abundance, you need jars and new ones are not cheap these days. Put the word out that you’re looking for used jars. They’re getting harder to find for a good price but it’s certainly not impossible. Every day, somewhere, a elderly housewife is hanging up her apron and calling an end to her canning career. She wants to see the tools that she used to provide for her family help another generation of women care for theirs. When people know that you can, they’ll keep you in mind when they’re looking to downsize their stash of jars.

• Invest in reusable lids (like the Tattler brand). They’re initially more expensive, but if you use them regularly, you’ll decrease their cost with every use. (I bought most of mine for a song from someone who didn’t like them.) I’ve been using them, along with regular metal lids, for the past 10+ years. I’ve only had one gasket grow brittle and crack. On the occasional red-letter day, you can find unused lids at garage sales and thrift stores, too.

  To dip my toe into a potentially controversial topic, many people reuse regular canning lids. No, the USDA doesn’t recommend this and the canning lid companies are in horror of the practice (obviously). You do you, but just know that many old-timers get more than one use from a used, undamaged lid and every Amish woman I know does the same.1

• Freeze produce instead of canning. Freezer bags are super cheap, and like canning jars, the cost of a large freezer (if you even need one) will decrease with every year of consistent use. You’ll run out of space if you try to freeze a year’s worth of produce, but if you’re new to gardening and preserving, it’s an easy start.

• Don’t overlook drying. Dehydrators are relatively cheap and easy to find in thrift stores and at garage sales. Tomato slices, fruit of all kinds, fruit and squash purees, celery, green beans, zucchini, corn… they all dry well and take up little space. Potato slices and shredded hash browns are some of my dehydrated favorites— they reconstitute beautifully.

  

  You don’t even need a dehydrator for everything. The mint plant I got as a cutting from my neighbor years ago still provides me with more than enough tea for the winter. I just cut the stems, tie them together, and hang them upside down until they’re dry and crumble easily.

I’ve focused on the dollars-and-cents aspects of gardening in this article. But don’t think that the value of a garden is purely economic.

There’s the time outdoors in the sunshine working and cheering your harvest along. There’s the food that’s better quality than you’d get from the grocery store. There’s the never-ending education gardening brings. There’s the satisfaction of walking steps into your yard or patio and providing food for yourself. There’s the satisfaction in developing self-reliance, even if it’s for only a smidge of your grocery needs.

For all that, why wouldn’t you try growing some of your food?

I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

I found a beautiful essay written in 1915 that perfectly describes foraging.

It is all your own, from twig to table. For wild grapes are every man’s harvest, choosing their own trellis of boundary fences and stone walls along the roadsides. They yield their riches to those who know them best and who most desire them. If you have found them, then it is you only for whom they have ripened, a free gift of nature’s bounty.

There’s something to be said for finding food grown in the wild and putting it to use. It feels thrifty and satisfying and just plain responsible.

Abundant Opportunities

Wild-grown food is likely all around and you may likely not be aware of it—herbs, fruits, vegetables, edible flowers, mushrooms, nuts, and so-called weeds like dandelion and nettle.

Much of what you find foraging isn’t grown commercially, which makes it even more of a special treat. You’ve probably never seen mustang grapes, purslane, dewberries, black raspberries, morels, or wild plums in the produce department at your grocery store. But they add variety to your diet and pantry.

Obviously, foraging options are more plentiful in the country. But don’t think you have to trek out into the wilderness in search of it; it’s all over.

The small town where I used to live offered an array of foraging options, all within the city limits. There were elderberries galore behind the skateboard park and wild grapes along the bike path. Black raspberries grew along the railroad, gooseberries in an overgrown vacant lot down the street. There were also wild grapes that grew on the fence at Burger King. I never asked to forage there, however. I didn’t want to wind up awkwardly chatting to customers waiting in the drive-through lane.

My neighbors offered me as many black walnuts as I was willing to collect off their lawns--a great deal for both of us. All over town, people let the black walnuts from their trees roll onto the sidewalks and streets throughout the fall. Anyone could have collected bags of them. We took advantage of a couple of maple trees in our neighborhood yard to provide us with enough sap for maple syrup and had enough dandelions and greens for salads.

For a couple of weeks every July, I picked a bowlful of black raspberries every other day, just two blocks from my house:

Wild plums were the biggest treasure of all. They grew along the creek between Piggly Wiggly and Dollar General. Talk about conspicuous—the whole town shopped at those two stores. As it turned out, I’m brave, (or have very little dignity) because wild plum jam won out over the embarrassment of being caught.

I’m still learning the plants and seasons where I’m living now. But just this weekend I noticed an elderberry bush blooming along a country roadside. The area isn’t manicured and clearly no one is taking care of it or spraying so I felt safe picking a handful of blossoms for a batch of my favorite early summer treat--elderberry “champagne.” (I’ll check back later this year for ripe elderberries.)

Foraging Economics

From a strictly economic angle, maybe foraging isn’t the absolute best use of time. But in my case, what else would I do in those couple of hours I spent picking? Maybe I could be productive, but maybe I wouldn’t have. In the end it just meant that I have to be more focused on all my daily tasks, leaving me fewer hours in the day to scroll or get distracted by non-essentials. Foraging means spending time outside in the sunshine getting exercise and for my effort, I get fresh food, free for the picking.

Modernism scarcely approves of all this labor. We cannot suppress a doubt as to the economy of expending so much time and care to catch and imprison a few dozen jars of sunshine. In theory, we acknowledge the wastefulness of our effort. But in practice, a great many of us go on preserving, year after year. In fact, we really love the close boundaries of home, and prefer the work that is direct and personal to a bigger work and a possible posthumous appreciation.

I can’t agree that it’s “wastefulness” but I’ll concede that it’s usually a lot of effort for a typically small reward. Still, I consider it one of those situations where quality wins over efficiency. Last year over the course of several days I picked a few gallon bags of wild blackberries on a relative’s property. I froze some of them for smoothies and pancakes, and made the rest into jam and blackberry syrup. It was the most satisfying feeling to see those jars on the pantry shelf.

Foraging isn’t a significant part of my grocery strategy, but if I happen to see a bonanza, I’ll take advantage of the opportunity. It is a happy bonus to the pantry.

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Getting “Caught”

It goes without saying that you can’t just walk onto someone else’s property and start picking fruit. Ask for permission if you want to forage on private land. Many people are happy to have someone use the produce they can’t or don’t care about. There are a lot of public options, too. In Wisconsin, for example, roadsides are fair game, and it’s legal to forage in state and county parks, as long as you aren’t digging anything up. Berries, fruit, and nuts are essentially perennials, so picking them won’t upset the balance of the ecosystem.

I’ve never once encountered competition (i.e., another forager) during my hunts, although I’ve seen the tamped down grass and picking patterns and knew that I wasn’t the only one interested in a particular patch of berries.

Several times people have sauntered by on a walk, though. I always instinctively strike a casual pose as if I’m just admiring nature. Y’know, because people routinely stand in a patch of thorny berry bushes with a shopping bag. I realize that I am fooling absolutely no one. However, people rarely give me a second look so I must do a good impression of a local harmless kook.

In other words, don’t be weirded out by other people and let it stop you. They really don’t care.

Foraging in the City

When I moved to a big city, I didn’t think foraging was feasible. If there even were opportunities, I expected competition to be fierce. As it turned out, there were opportunities and I had no competition. (If you live in Austin, TX, check out the Mopac underpass next to the Domain. Jackpot.) As I was picking dewberries one morning, an older man told me about a nearby spot around the corner (also on public land) and said to watch for a mother lode of mustang grapes. He was right and I only picked a fraction of the abundance. For my one day of effort, I canned 11 pints of mustang grape jam.

As you’d expect, passersby “caught” me every time I foraged in the city. But the result of each encounter was a pleasant conversation with someone about their own childhood foraging and jam-making adventures.

A Few Tips for Foraging

I do have a few pieces of advice, however. First of all, dress appropriately. That likely means wearing shoes (not sandals) and long pants and long sleeve shirts. It’s miserable in the summer but the alternative is worse--wild fruit is not a tame sport. The thorns are real and big and the mosquitoes are fierce, not to mention other stinging insects.

Secondly, for heaven’s sake, watch out for poison ivy. I’d never encountered it before, but I can confirm that it’s most definitely abundant in Texas. Days after picking, when little blisters started to appear on my ankles, I mistook them for strange insect bites and treated my rash completely wrong. Instead of nursing a patch of blisters on my ankles, I had rashes the entire length of both my legs for weeks.

And it kind of goes without saying, but don’t be dumb. Know your plants and what’s edible as well as their non-edible look-alikes. Local Facebook groups always have people willing to identify plants based on a snapshot but instead rely on people you know and trust to give you the most accurate advice.

The Foraging Tradition

If you’re looking to do a little foraging beyond simply keeping an eye out in your immediate area, check out the map on fallingfruit.org. The site is by no means exhaustive, but you may find a treasure nearby.

The beautiful thing about wild food is that it will continue to grow and produce even if no one picks it, so you might as well take advantage of all the work those plants have done.

After all, we but take our place in the long line of women who, since cooking was invented, have gathered the fruits of the earth and stored them up for use and comfort. Every year with the ripening of the fruit has this ritual been accomplished, through ages of unwritten history.

I’ve joined that long line of women and every year I add one more year to that long history.

I’m the co-author of A Housewife Writes and author of Two Years as an Amish Schoolteacher, available on Amazon. (affiliate link) I love history and learning about the lives of our grandmothers who loved their families and managed their households. I share their stories and wisdom that are still meaningful as well as ways of keeping a modern home in the spirit of past times.

Is homemaking truly a job? When a wife says, “I’m a homemaker,” many people only hear it to mean “I don’t have to work.” How does a homemaker respond to that bit of ridiculousness? Nothing could be further from the truth! Unfortunately, this attitude has persisted for generations. This anonymous woman gives a description of the best profession she could imagine--a homemaker.

Homemaking is my Occupation

When the census-taking man called at our home, I parked the babies in the sandpile. Then, I sat for half an hour answering his questions. When he came to my occupation, he looked from under his brows in all solemnity and asked, “You don’t do anything, do you?” Without even awaiting a reply, he wrote, “Occupation--Housewife.”

I protest and refuse to be draply set aside! I demand the title of Homemaker and defy the world to say that homemaking is doing nothing. It is a profession, and those of us so listed labor at it. It is a labor of love. There is no monthly salary. The pay is merely the little sweetnesses of everyday family life, and I must sift them out of their attendant pains and sacrifices.

The business of making a home--an honest-to-goodness home, with cookies and pillow fights and firelit hours and books and beds and joys and tears--that is a job--a great, grand task.

An Introduction to my Homemaking

I happen to be not only a Homemaker but a Farm Homemaker. I glory in it.

That I am only one among thousands of others is a point to be stressed. I am representative of my class, and I am decidedly not stooped nor wrinkled. I am sun-tanned and straight two pounds underweight from a summer of strenuous hours in Ye Olde Swimming Hole (I do a rather nice crawl stroke, too.) My hair has a natural wave, and doesn’t string, and I never wear sunbonnets. Instead of drab calico, I make my own house frocks of gay, fast-colored prints with fresh white collars, and I wear happy-looking aprons over them.

While we are getting acquainted, I might add that I have been at my present job for five years, and am still in my twenties. I earned my own living for five years before I married. At present I have two sons--husky young lads of two and three.

My Home

From a honeymoon of care-free happiness, I came to our Old Homestead, a rambling farmhouse built half a century ago, and typical of the times--high ceilings, plastered walls, no closets, wood heaters, not enough windows, coal-oil lamps.

There is a big zinc sink without a drain. Running water has been installed, but drinking water is still drawn from a well with a rope and bucket and pulley. There is a temperamental wood range for cooking, and you raise a door and go down a flight of steps into the dim, dirt-floored cellar.

No danger of unemployment for the farm woman. There is work of one kind or another always waiting for her, but it is certainly varied enough, and busy persons are usually happy ones. It seems to me that caring for your loved ones is a God-given privilege. It is not in the least degrading to preform every task connected with making a home, rather it lends a certain dignity to life.

Laundry

The farm wife over her wash tub! How our novelists have harped on that plaintive theme

--a bent figure slaving away at endless piles of dirty clothes. Quite naturally there are days when it seems hard, when you wake up out of sorts and everything seems hard, but there are many more wash days that are fun!

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Yes, kind sir, I do all of the washing for my own house and family, and as yet have no washing machine. I do it in tubs with the help of a washboard. I get as much satisfaction out of changing a heap of soiled, wrinkled clothing into fresh-smelling, orderly piles as I ever got out of eighteen holes of golf. Besides, I am sure that I get as much exercise. Hanging snowy sheets and shirts against a cloud-hung blue sky with fresh-clipped green grass under foot, and a vagabond breeze in the air, is fun!

Please do not gather from this that I am a low-brow drudge who knows nothing else. I play McDowell and Tschaikowsky because I love them, and I enjoy Sinclair Lewis and Edna Ferber and Thackeray and Wells. Washing just happens to be one of my sidelines.

Cooking

Another sideline is being my own butcher and baker and candlestick maker. It is a good thing to learn complete independence, especially when there are no shops just around the corner, and no money to spend. At first this seemed a hardship. But I have learned my job so thoroughly that I can now serve a complete and well-balanced meal from soup to nuts without counting on anyone.

From my cellar I can bring tomatoes, corn, cured meats (venison in season), fruit, jellies, preserves, relishes, pickles, and vegetables. All of them are raised on our own farm. Of course all this is work, but there is only one difference in working for money with which to buy food, and working directly for the food itself. That, of course, is the immense pride that you take in your own products.

There’s a heap of preparation and excitement when the bees are robbed. Daddy dons his bee bonnet and gloves, and the babies are carefully corralled on the porch until it is over. How good the honey tastes when it is fresh--that means hot biscuits for breakfast. It is strained and put away in stone crocks, along with gallons of molasses, freshly-boiled from the ribbon cane that grows on our own brown acres. And part of my duty seems to me to be crisp molasses cookies and taffy.

There are strutting turkeys and garrulous White Leghorns in the barnyard, for a farm wife must often play poulterer, too. That means fresh eggs in abundance, and the tender flesh of cock and hen, but at times it means nursing senseless baby chicks through their period of babyhood, and they can be annoying though interesting. A small turkey is the most brainless thing that ever had the gift of life, but when it has attained twenty-seven pounds and a parsley trimming, it becomes worth while.

I do not milk, but I could in a pinch, and often do in the summer evenings so that we may all join in the evening swim. I do, however, attend to the milk, wash and scald all the utensils, make the butter and cheese, and put away the heavy golden cream that will add so much to tomorrow’s plain pudding.

Twice a week I bake in my temperamental wood range. How a stove as pesky as that one can turn out such crispy, crusty loaves, I don’t know, but it usually does. Often on baking day there are cinnamon rolls or coffee cake, which are really just bread dough all dressed up. Why I even make my own yeast cakes! Common everyday things like cornmeal and buttermilk are converted into that mysterious something that makes the bread rise.

Butcher? Just another sideline. Sometime before Christmas every year, hogs are changed into tender hams, spareribs, bacon, sausage, headcheese, and buckets of white lard, not to mention homemade soap. That soap is more magic. I am proud of it, for it is snowy white, faintly fragrant, and it floats--and I made it! Drudgery? No, achievement!

Raising Children

Lusty appetites must be fed, and the converting of wholesome food into sound minds and sturdy bodies is no child’s play. It demands time and thought and energy and imagination. In addition to food, there must be flowers and fresh linen and the wedding silver on my table for I want them to be an integral part of my sons’ education. Farm folk need to live as beautifully as any others, and doesn’t cost a bit more. It is wholly up to the homemaker.

With the help of my partner I have taken entire care of my babies. I have suffered when they cried, and laughed when they smiled; I have known the discovery of a first tooth, and the pride of a first step. It is to me they bring each baby joy or sorrow, and all the freedom in the world could not mean what their confidence means. Perhaps I shall some day do a lot of my lost adventuring through the eyes of my boys, but have quelled my own wanderlust in order to make the little valley a home that will always bring them back from their wanderings. I am sure that I could not have shared their babyhood with another no matter how efficient or well trained. It has been too precious.

It has not been all roses. There has been thousands of small annoyances like water fights on clean white linen suits and mud pies down the front of rompers that I had worked half an hour to iron. There have been brief spankings and the attendant howls of rage, and the breaking of bits of glass that I particularly loved, like the soft rose beige vase of Brookfield ware. There was one week of zero weather when I took bricks and broke the tiny frozen garments off the clothesline, and there were sleepless nights when both children had whooping cough, and I was sure that they were choking to death before my very eyes.

However, there have been plenty of compensations, and I would go through it all again to hear those baby voices saying their “Now I lay me,” and to get those good-night kisses. Did you ever hold a baby, all fat and bathed and sleepy and warm, and feel it go limp with the touch of the Sandman? Drudgery? That is Heaven! the heaven of your own creation.

Decorating

I couldn’t begin to name all my various undertakings, but I did enjoy being interior decorator. The house was quite the most drab and uninviting I every stepped into, but it has changed. I painted the dark woodwork a rich ivory, (and decades later, we’re scraping that paint off! :) and tinted the plastered walls. I have ruffled curtains and made and framed silhouettes. I have made footstools of coffee cans, and book shelves from apple crates. I have smoothed and varnished floors, and refinished old walnut furniture that I brought for a song. I even learned to weave cane seats for stubby dining chairs that many have since admired, and an old walnut rocker that I found in the barn loft is now a lovely thing with high back and seat of cane.

I have made shades for the kerosene lamps, and added countless gay candlesticks and candles. My living room is a north room with maize colored walls, and a beautiful view. The single oil painting on its walls was exhibited at the Philadelphia Exposition. I took second prize on this room last year in a County Living Room contest, and my only expenditure was my own work and one dollar and a half.

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Sewing

All my linens are handmade, and will wear for years. I take great pleasure in keeping the beds snowy and fresh, and I am not at all above piecing together bits of the blue shirt I liked on John, and the babies’ first rompers, and my old blue frock and the yellow kitchen curtains and making a quilt of them that will later be tufted into feathery softness. There is something soul-satisfying about sleeping beneath bits of your life sewed together into stars.

Sewing is part of my job, too, for I have to do all my own in order to make the most of the money we have to spend. I sew for myself and the children, and we are not especially “country looking,” either. My machine is an antiquated relic, but it sews a straight seam with a bit of persuasion.

Gardening

I am not a huge success as a gardener, but I am learning, and it is certainly a pleasant task in the early spring to dig and putter in the warming earth and to plan and plant. What gorgeous things it does promise after you have read the seed catalogues, and even if it never lives up to them, still if you are a faithful gardener, you can have green things a-growin’ for your table, and beauty for your eyes. Beans and beets and spinach and carrots are important foods for the body, but just as important to me are the early pansies and violets, the purple and pink and white of larkspur and cosmos and phlox and zinnias. They are food for the soul.

Entertainment and Education

Life isn’t all work and no play, nor do we lack for social divertissement. I attend regularly a reading club, Home Demonstration Club, and a dramatic club which produces two plays a year. We play cards an evening or two a week, either at a neighbor’s home or our own, and we attend as many good shows, concerts and art exhibits as our finances and babies allow. There are frequent barbecues and picnics, and an occasional barn dance or school entertainment, most of them impromptu and real fun.

Relationships

I find at these gatherings a number of women like myself, all doing their own homemaking and enjoying it. They are as a rule, healthy and intelligent wives and mothers. They drive their own cars, and are actively interested in many activities outside their homes. They are partners to their husbands in every sense of the word, and are helping to make it a success. Divorce? We never hear of it except in the daily papers. We haven’t enough leisure to feel ourselves mistreated or abused.

Perhaps men and women grow nearer and dearer to each other on a farm--I do not know--but depending entirely on each other for companionship must make it true. Hardships draw people closer, I happen to know. The nearest I ever felt to my husband was during a terrific hailstorm that shattered every window, splintered the shutters, and crumpled the roof, as well as destroying every living and growing thing on our farm. We stood there, or rather crouched, behind the shelter of two inner walls and a mattress, each holding a terrified baby, and though not a word was exchanged--well, we were sharing both fear and courage.

We farmer folk who are standing by our land, are feeling a bit as the old-time pioneers must have felt. We hear a lot about farm relief and depression and low prices, and all of it is real enough. The past few years have held heartache and sacrifices. We have almost forgotten what money looks like, and would probably shy at a ten dollar bill as old dobbin shied at the threshing machine. Our products are exchanged for the few bare necessities we do have to buy, and often are inadequate.

Once in a great while I save enough pennies for a new book or a new sheet of music, and how we do enjoy them,--reading them carefully so as not to lose one precious word, hoarding their bits of beauty and wisdom as we hoarded the pennies with which to buy them.

The wise farmer and his homemaker, if they are healthy and intelligent, are not going hungry, and we are glad that this going without has come to us while we are young. This isn’t a tale of hard times, but a story of a farmer’s wife, who is doing her best to make the old Homestead into a home worth having.

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