Smith Farm History

Smith Farm has been in my family for over a hundred years and through three generations. 

On that farm, my grandparents Joe and his wife Sallie raised their family—Russell, Myrtle, Belva, Virgie, and foster daughter Laura—and grew old together until Joe died in October 1959. Then my daddy bought the farm at auction. Since 1969, it's been mine. The cabin was made of logs, but Joe had a sawmill and made the boards that covered the logs. Here is how the cabin looked in 1936:

The original part—on the left—was where William (1833-1907) and Gillie Ann Bernard (1839-1897) once lived and raised their family. The Bernards are buried up on the hill. To the left of the back of  the cabin was where Gillie Ann's kitchen once was and where her lilac bush grew. The right side of the cabin was added later and a dog-trot built between the two sections. 

In 1967,  the cabin still looked the way it did in 1936.

My great-grandfather, Will Brown, bought the farm from William Bernard's son for $440 in 1905. The deed below references points such as "three persimmon trees in Jno. R Robertson's line," "a dead red oak, thence with Dudley's line," "to a chestnut, a corner of Creed Bernard's lot," etc. The trees, like the people whose land was next to the farm, are long gone.

In 1906, Will Brown financed the farm for his son-in-law Joe Smith. Joe paid him back over a period of years and kept the receipts for payments he'd made.  

 

Joe also kept a record:

. . .  and finally the debt was paid.

The farm, the cabin, and the outbuildings have changed a lot through the decades. The only remains of Gillie Ann's kitchen—which my Aunt Belva once told me "fell in" when she and her sister were children—are some rocks, but you have to look close to see them. The lilac bush has died out; I'm glad I got a slip from it years ago.

 

Several out-buildings are now long gone. This open space in back is where the hen-house, smoke house, and a shed for the buggy used to be:

In front, three other buildings stood—one was a corn-crib, another a wheat house, and a third one was for storage. Now only one building still exists.

When Joe and Sallie celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary in 1954, they stood in front of that remaining building, but you can see another building to the right:

This picture of their oldest daughter Myrtle, taken when she was 16, shows two and part of a third out-building:

Joe never had a big barn. This building, beside the entry road, was where hay was stored.

Above: Front view (facing the cabin): Below: side view 

On the back side of this barn were once two stalls, now long gone and only a part of the roof remains. The last two animals to occupy those stalls were Kate the horse and Gen the mule.  I can barely remember them. Before them were other horses—I think Maude might have been the one before Gen, but she was before my time—and before the horses were a team of oxen. My daddy once told me their names were Hiram and Roger (Rajah?). I remember once seeing the remains of their ox-yoke.

Not far from where the stalls once were, two iron wheels and part of an old wagon's frame remain.

Just past the barn, the farm road leads to a now-paved state road that the Smiths called "the racetrack" because boys used to race their horses and buggies there. I can remember when it was a red clay road that turned to mud in rainy weather. On the deed, it's called  "racepaths known as the Union Hall and Bethel Church road."

Tucked in the woods near the farm road is an old tobacco barn. Tobacco was the money crop in Franklin County back in the day.

The house is showing its age. The top of the original stone chimney was replaced with brick years before my time. 

When Gillie died, William Bernard cut the little window to the left of the chimney so he could keep an eye on her grave up on the hill beyond the pasture while he sat by the fire.

William joined Gillie on the hill in 1907. A few decades later, two of Joe and Sallie's grandchildren—Myrtle's son Clyde and Russell's son Robert—both of whom died as infants, joined them. Joe and Sallie's son, William Everett Smith who was born and died in 1911, is supposed to be buried near the Bernards, but there's no trace of his grave.

For over a half century,  Gillie's grave has been hidden by the woods that took over the pasture, and—long after William joined her on the hill—the brick on the chimney beside the window is falling in. 

High on this chimney are these initials. A date—1852 or 1853, I forget which—used to be visible to the right.

The back of the cabin is also falling in. The porch and its roof collapsed and fell over a decade ago.

These notches show where the back porch roof once was attached.

The spring, where water was fetched a couple of times a day, was down this hill and and across a creek. The Smiths' cow also lived down here, but was fenced out of the spring and spring box. A branch ran from the spring and eventually connected to the creek.

This hillside between cabin and spring was once the site of the Smiths' garden.

 

The creek—and then the spring and its branch—are the other side of the trees at the bottom.

Beside the farm road that leads to the cabin is an ancient walnut tree. It was huge  when I was a kid 75 years ago.

Every year, it looks like it's dying . . .

. . .  but by late spring, after the surrounding trees have leafed out, it starts to sprout leaves. Every year—so far—it still bears walnuts.

At least a few things remain.

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Spring Hay 2022

 "Farming is pretty work." —author Lee Smith

We are currently in the midst of getting our spring hay cut, raked, and baled. Haying is hot, tedious, and dusty work, but it's indeed pretty. Here are some pictures of raking and baling at Smith Farm in Union Hall today.

Yesterday, hay was finished on our Polecat Creek Farm in Penhook:

Altogether, these two farms produced 257 bales. We still have two more farms to go.

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Dog-trot Cabin

The corner of a log tobacco barn on our farm.

Thanks to the Franklin County Historical Society’s program yesterday, I now I have a name for my cabin (or at least what’s left of it): a dog-trot. Actually, it’s two single-pen cabins joined by an enclosed breezeway.

Program presenter Michael Pulice, who works for the Virginia Department of Historic Resources, showed slides of Virginia cabins—several of which are in Franklin County—and explained the type, construction, etc. I learned, for instance, that most cabins in the are were not made from chestnut logs as many folks believe, but from white oak.

Now I know the names for the types of cabins. The single-pen, log cabin, for instance, is a rectangular structure—usually one room. The double-pen is two single pens joined together. The saddle-bag has a chimney in the middle with rooms on either side. The dog-trot is two single pens with a breezeway between them.

My dog-trot cabin is actually two single-pen one-story cabins joined by an enclosed breezeway. The left side was built by William Bernard in the 1850s. I don’t know when the right side was added. The old kitchen, which “fell in” when my aunts were children, must have been a single-pen cabin. Only a few chimney stones remain around the lilac bush that marks the spot.

Several more outbuildings used to be around the cabin. Only one remains.
This picture was taken before the roof sagged over the dog-trot and before the chimney toppled.

This is where the spring is. Years ago, a huge oak towered over it.

Imagine carrying water up this hill several times a day.

Several decades ago Aunt Belva, who was born in the cabin, said the right side was a “manufactured house.” That is, it was brought in from somewhere else and reassembled. Apparently someone (my grandparents? Mr. Bernard?) acquired a cabin from elsewhere and recycled it. I know that my father slept in the loft above it and his sisters slept in the loft above the original structure that was my grandparents’ kitchen, bedroom, and living room. Like many Virginia cabins, mine is covered with wooden siding. (And it’s also covered with poison-oak!)

A henhouse and smokehouse used to be here.
The top of this chimney blew down a few months ago.
My father slept in the loft on this side.

Anyhow, I now look at what’s left of my cabin with different eyes. I can put names to what I see.

If you’re interested in learning more about log cabins—or if you’re a writer who wants to get the details right in a story set long ago, take a look at “Historical Survey of Log Structures in Southern Appalachia” on the Digital Library of Appalachia site. “Historical Survey of Log Structures in Southern Appalachia” site has many pictures and numerous links to other pictures.

More info on log cabins:

From the National Park Service, Preservation Brief #26 tells about the preservation and repair of historic log buildings.

“Homestead History” from The PBS series, Frontier Life, gives some insight into cabin construction.

And just for fun, Adam Bolivar’s story, “Jack and the Magic Ham,” mentions a single-pen cabin.

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