The worst kept secret is that I was raised up on a farm and loved doing different kinds of farming over the years. I raised my first crop of tobacco at the age of seven. That of course was excessively young to be very helpful but I was gung ho to be involved as much as my sister and brother. I even went into raising chickens with my mom as a partner and I gathered my share of eggs. However, I think in the late spring of my being twelve my cousin Walt and I took on a different project.

Clermont County’s Rick Houser has released a second book, this one titled “Memories from the Heart.”

As I have said, my cousin was living in the city in cold weather and on the family farm in warm weather. Their farm was next to ours and this worked out perfect as we could do do very much together. Since my dad was farming their farm for them and as I said, I was getting into farming and being more involved it was easy to see that Walt wanted to take part also. At that, time dad was raising the corn and tobacco and some hay on their farm and this left nothing for him to do really. Now I wanted my cousin to be involved in the farms as much as I was but we were left scratching our heads as to just how this was going to happen.

I do not really know how we discovered it and it might have been largely his dad who made the suggestion but we listened. Behind the big barn on their farm was a former hog lot of more than a half an acre in size. My dad had raised tobacco in it for several years and it had proven that it was very rich soil. I do not really know just how long hogs used that lot but the soil was black and very rich and with all of the tobacco raised there it also had become richer soil as tobacco adds Ammonium Nitrate. Therefore, Walt and I decided maybe we should try our hands at gardening. Walts’ dad gave us the use of the lot and my dad gave us the use of the equipment.

At the time we were twelve most all farmers raised their own vegetable plants in the end of a tobacco bed so we had access to many plants. Walts’ dad was a good gardener and his grandpa was maybe the best in the area and they began stocking us up with as much seed as we would need. So the biggest expense was to buy a couple bags of fertilizer. (It was expected we needed to pay our way some.)

One evening Walt and his dad had come up to the farm, I brought the tractor, and plows up and we plowed up over a half an acre of that hog lot. Once it was plowed we began to plan just what we were going to raise and how much and approximately where in the lot. Now with that we became more excited at getting started. So as the spring moved forward so did we. We began with cabbage, peas, Irish potatoes, carrots, and beets along with other items.

As the spring moved forward, the days grew warmer and longer and out went green beans, sugar corn, and a long row of sweet potatoes and tomatoes and bell peppers etc. Before we knew it, we had that entire lot planted in one thing or another. I think the adults in our lives were thinking we would probably tire of the work and abandon the project leaving a large wed patch.

The funny thing was that that was the furthest thing from what happened. As it turned out that spring was one of the best, we had had for years weather wise and it seemed that we no sooner got something planted until it was growing and needing care. Here folks it is safe to say we were having success. Walt’s dad would look at our garden in amazement, as did my parents and Walts’ grandpa who might have been the best gardener I ever knew. The thing about him was as we were succeeding he was giving us pointers on how to grow it to a larger size or more production. In all of this, Walt and I finally got to thinking about it all and the question arose. There was no doubt, about how well we were doing but now just whom were we going to sell it to?

To this question, much troubled thought came to the two of us. Therefore, we finally ask our parents and at first, we did not get very much of an answer. After a couple of days Walt’s dad Tom said that he felt people in the city would love to have a chance to buy what we had grown. Now Tom was the postmaster in Norwood, and there was many folks who worked there, and many residents who picked up their mail there. Therefore, Tom began to save the paper grocery bags brought home from the grocery stores and loaded a small spring scale in the back of his station wagon. It was very covenant to have owned a station wagon as it turned out. In early June, we saw that we had quite a bit of peas, large heads of cabbage and carrots and beets. We loaded into the car for Walts’ dad to take to work.

We had spent a good bit of time and with some advice from his dad, we set the prices that items were to sell for. All the adults had reminded us that stay fair and do not price yourself out of range. I guess we did not over price as that night when Tom arrived home, he had an empty car and a full envelope of money for us from the products and on top of that, they were putting in orders for produce that had yet to be ready. That evening I can only tell you just how successful I felt. (Awesome!)

We had cabbage that was so big around it would not fit in the bottom of a bushel basket. We had potatoes that yielded very much and one sweet potato weighed four pounds six ounces. One evening we picked a gross of sugar corn and not a one of the 144 went unsold. I think that by summers end we had made a profit of over 140. Dollars, which in 1962 was a good profit. We had a very successful year and frankly, I do not know if we would have done better the next year as we did not truck farm the next year. We had aged and Walt was wanting to raise some crops out in the fields as I was doing and with our success just who could tell him he might fail. Here was a time when we beat the odds and showed we knew how to garden. The good thing for us was that his dad did all of our selling and did not charge us any commission.

Rick Houser grew up on a farm near Moscow in Clermont County and loves to share stories about his youth and other topics. If you are interested in reading more of his stories they can be found in his books ‘There are Places to Remember” and’ Memories ARE from the Heart.” He may be reached at houser734@yahoo.com or mail to P.O. Box 213 Bethel, Ohio 45106.