[4] Ellen Glasgow, Barren Ground (Richmond, 1925), 448-49.
PART I
Continuity
Tradition and personal experience colored the 20th century farmer's reactions. He was accustomed to a world in which his occupation and social status were assured, and childhood experience probably led him to assume the farmer's role naturally. The rhythms of farm life were based on the immutable round of the seasons. Each day's sun and wind pulled the tiller in its direction as did the unceasing need to tame the growth and habits of beasts and land. Nature was the farmer's clock, and though he bid the land to produce what he desired, it was the earth which fixed his hours and chores. From this close association with nature came a continuity and special bond between farmers, which defied both time and place.
Although the early years of the 20th century heralded a new era of specialization in agriculture, the farmers of Fairfax County persisted in executing the varied functions of general farming. Dairying might be the emphasis on many farms, but it was rarely pursued at the expense of production of grain or food for home consumption. Variety continued to be an important quality of farm work. Families on large and specialized farms still did chores similar to those done by subsistence farmers, though the amount of time allotted for each task might differ. The relentlessness of certain activities, such as feeding the stock, was the same whether the farm boasted one cow or fifty. Thus distinctions between general and specialized farmers were not so clear-cut in this period. The following pages detail the work done on a small dairy farm, yet the kinds and methods of activities also pertain to the farmer whose acreage was devoted solely to general farming.
Perpetuity—a continual need to perform certain tasks and watch over specific events on a daily basis—was the most fundamental aspect of farming. The farmer's day began with such an interminable chore: milking the cows. This twice-daily task was, of course, particularly important on dairy farms and its relentlessness is often the first aspect to be mentioned in any farming recollection. "When you have dairy cows," Joseph Beard, who grew up in the Floris area, acknowledged, "that's a 365-day proposition regardless of whether you're sick or anything like that." Another resident, Margaret Mary Lee, explained it more tersely: "Cows and hens and milk trucks did not take holidays."[5] The first milking was early in the morning and most farmers rose around four a.m.[6] The men and any hired hands usually began milking around 4:30 a.m., while the women prepared breakfast. What might initially appear to the outsider as a pleasing novelty was hard and demanding work. This was especially true in the morning when both the new and often the previous night's milk needed to be hauled to Herndon for the early train into Washington. Ray Harrison, with his brother the owner of one of the area's biggest herds, could milk a cow in six minutes—"quicker than a lot people could do it"[7]—but even at this rate, milking his 80-odd cows was a formidable undertaking. John Middleton, who lived down the road from the Harrisons, estimated it took about 1½ hours for seven people to milk his herd of 40 cows; they barely finished in time for the hired man, who took the milk to Herndon, to grab a sandwich and cup of coffee to eat en route.[8]
Portrait of a confident and successful farmer. Holden Harrison, c. 1935. Photo courtesy of Ray Harrison.