Personal Journal
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January 23, 1998 Mathew J. Stucki Page 1
For a 12-year-old boy, the unusual lifestyle we soon adopted that first summer in Castle Valley was more an adventure than an inconvenience. For instance, living in a tent and in the back of our broken-down pickup truck, cooking our meals on a fire, sleeping under the stars in sleeping bags, and hearing the nightly howl of coyotes in the hills at dusk were dreams-come-true for a young boy like me. And that’s just the beginning of the Afun@ things we did everyday. Catching and riding the horses, exploring the creek bed, swimming in the pond, and climbing the huge Cottonwood trees were daily activities that first summer.
Our new home in Castle Valley was comprised of a tent, the back of a broken down pickup truck covered with a truck top, a fire pit, and the hopes and dreams of a better life and a beautiful country home. A small, green tent provided the out house accommodations and was affectionately called the AGreen house,@ a term coined by Kimberly.
At that time there were eight of us living on the farm (Kim, Jeff, Mat, Gregg, Robyn, Mom, Dad, and our cousin Russell).
Getting started early in the morning provided a comfortable working environment, before the heat of the day. We spent long hours working in the hot sun, clearing and excavating ditches, digging hundreds of fence post holes, and scooping dry, hard dirt and rocks from the earth to dig countless holes in the orchard and around the farm for bare-root trees. We hauled buckets of water to fill many of the holes as we dug them in an effort to loosen the hard, impenetrable soil. We built animal shelters for the pig, goats, and chickens and fed and watered the animals daily. Since we didn’t have a well, we hauled water from our neighbors for the animals and trees. We learned to appreciate and cherish cold, refreshing water. Just as the family rose early in the morning with the sun to begin the day, we retired with the sun at dusk. The cry of the coyotes ushered out the last rays of sunlight and welcomed in the serene glimmer of the moon. Since we didn’t have much light except for flash lights and perhaps the fire, our activities concluded quickly at night fall. But we didn’t mind; our bags were a welcome sight after a long day’s work.
The brutal heat of the summer days soon convinced us to move our camp down the property to the shade of the large Cottonwood trees. Soon, a power pole was installed and the availability of electricity now gave us the opportunity to build better living conditions. Dad built a wood floor on which the tent was placed, a welcome change from the dirt floor we were used to. Other improvements were also made. Although Mom had done a remarkable job cooking on the fire, the process was understandably inconvenient and difficult, so the kitchen facilities was the next project. Three walls were built atop a wood floor, and the truck top was placed on the walls to form the roof. Inside the kitchenette, Mom arranged the refrigerator and stove, and Dad built a counter and installed a sink without running water, because we didn’t yet have a well. The next improvement was a bath house. Although the framework and roof of this building was built, the sinks and walls were not yet completed. The bath house gave way to more important projects. The function of the “Green house” was moved to a small room in the corner of the bath house. I soon earned the title of “John-boy” because it was my responsibility to bury the bucket set aside for this purpose. I didn’t enjoy this duty at the time, but it had to be done, and it was my job. So I did it until we moved into the farmhouse just before Christmas.
Although we had seen wells being dug around the valley from a distance, when Dad hired a man to begin digging a well on our property, we had an opportunity to see the process up close. The large rig pounded a hole in the earth with a heavy, metal pole. The rig lifted then dropped the pole repeatedly. Each time the heavy bar hit the ground, the hole was made an inch or two deeper. As the hole grew, the man began pounding a pipe into the well. Then, each time the hole was extended the length of the bar, the man welded another pipe to the end that protruded from the ground and continued pounding the pipe into the hole of the well. We hit water at 14 feet, which was good, especially considering that some of the other families up the valley didn’t hit water until they had dug more than 150 feet or more. The well needed to be at least 100 feet deep to ensure that the water was clean and safe. Although this process seemed slow, it was also consistent, and soon cool, delicious water was flowing from the well.
kitchen under truck top
reading in the Abunk house@
wetting head under faucet before school
digging out the basement with buckets
mom took the first shower in our new, partially completed home
bowls of fresh strawberries
boiling the water before picking the corn (Silver Queen)
riding the horses
Guy’s accident
Robyn’s fire
of
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
January 23, 1998 Mathew J. Stucki Page 1
For a 12-year-old boy, the unusual lifestyle we soon adopted that first summer in Castle Valley was more an adventure than an inconvenience. For instance, living in a tent and in the back of our broken-down pickup truck, cooking our meals on a fire, sleeping under the stars in sleeping bags, and hearing the nightly howl of coyotes in the hills at dusk were dreams-come-true for a young boy like me. And that’s just the beginning of the Afun@ things we did everyday. Catching and riding the horses, exploring the creek bed, swimming in the pond, and climbing the huge Cottonwood trees were daily activities that first summer.
Our new home in Castle Valley was comprised of a tent, the back of a broken down pickup truck covered with a truck top, a fire pit, and the hopes and dreams of a better life and a beautiful country home. A small, green tent provided the out house accommodations and was affectionately called the AGreen house,@ a term coined by Kimberly.
At that time there were eight of us living on the farm (Kim, Jeff, Mat, Gregg, Robyn, Mom, Dad, and our cousin Russell).
Getting started early in the morning provided a comfortable working environment, before the heat of the day. We spent long hours working in the hot sun, clearing and excavating ditches, digging hundreds of fence post holes, and scooping dry, hard dirt and rocks from the earth to dig countless holes in the orchard and around the farm for bare-root trees. We hauled buckets of water to fill many of the holes as we dug them in an effort to loosen the hard, impenetrable soil. We built animal shelters for the pig, goats, and chickens and fed and watered the animals daily. Since we didn’t have a well, we hauled water from our neighbors for the animals and trees. We learned to appreciate and cherish cold, refreshing water. Just as the family rose early in the morning with the sun to begin the day, we retired with the sun at dusk. The cry of the coyotes ushered out the last rays of sunlight and welcomed in the serene glimmer of the moon. Since we didn’t have much light except for flash lights and perhaps the fire, our activities concluded quickly at night fall. But we didn’t mind; our bags were a welcome sight after a long day’s work.
The brutal heat of the summer days soon convinced us to move our camp down the property to the shade of the large Cottonwood trees. Soon, a power pole was installed and the availability of electricity now gave us the opportunity to build better living conditions. Dad built a wood floor on which the tent was placed, a welcome change from the dirt floor we were used to. Other improvements were also made. Although Mom had done a remarkable job cooking on the fire, the process was understandably inconvenient and difficult, so the kitchen facilities was the next project. Three walls were built atop a wood floor, and the truck top was placed on the walls to form the roof. Inside the kitchenette, Mom arranged the refrigerator and stove, and Dad built a counter and installed a sink without running water, because we didn’t yet have a well. The next improvement was a bath house. Although the framework and roof of this building was built, the sinks and walls were not yet completed. The bath house gave way to more important projects. The function of the “Green house” was moved to a small room in the corner of the bath house. I soon earned the title of “John-boy” because it was my responsibility to bury the bucket set aside for this purpose. I didn’t enjoy this duty at the time, but it had to be done, and it was my job. So I did it until we moved into the farmhouse just before Christmas.
Although we had seen wells being dug around the valley from a distance, when Dad hired a man to begin digging a well on our property, we had an opportunity to see the process up close. The large rig pounded a hole in the earth with a heavy, metal pole. The rig lifted then dropped the pole repeatedly. Each time the heavy bar hit the ground, the hole was made an inch or two deeper. As the hole grew, the man began pounding a pipe into the well. Then, each time the hole was extended the length of the bar, the man welded another pipe to the end that protruded from the ground and continued pounding the pipe into the hole of the well. We hit water at 14 feet, which was good, especially considering that some of the other families up the valley didn’t hit water until they had dug more than 150 feet or more. The well needed to be at least 100 feet deep to ensure that the water was clean and safe. Although this process seemed slow, it was also consistent, and soon cool, delicious water was flowing from the well.
kitchen under truck top
reading in the Abunk house@
wetting head under faucet before school
digging out the basement with buckets
mom took the first shower in our new, partially completed home
bowls of fresh strawberries
boiling the water before picking the corn (Silver Queen)
riding the horses
Guy’s accident
Robyn’s fire
