When in grade school, my parents came up with a job jar. Every week we had to shake it and take several jobs to do over the weekend. It was a coffee can, Chock full o’Nuts with a slit in the top. We shook the container and got our jobs.
This was in addition to the 2-3 hours my sister and I spent mowing pastures. Times for each pasture, switched each week.
Dust, fold diapers, vacuum, clean pool, then the worst. Ask Mom, and Ask Dad. I you got both asks in a weekend you were a goner until you learned to play it right. I spent six hours weeding per Ask Mom, so all sweaty I asked Dad what his chore was and he normally said, “could you hand me that wrench?” Done.
I’ll tell you more about our travails on the Hill, retaining walls, me learning to work a miter box at age eight and cutting all the window framings, snakes and crayfish and my favorite forest.
This time in my life from age 8-10 framed my foodie instincts. I had them before and after, but until I lived on/near a farm I didn’t know how important food is to all of us, every day. Cheers, Dee
Cooking with Dee 