Ladies of the Old Black River Road


Mrs Blanchard, far left, Mrs Wells, crouching, front, Muriel Lawton, white sweater and checked dress, and her two youngest, and others.


On the Old Black River Road we were able to harvest a good deal of wild food and the picking of it was the best of fun for all ages.

We picked blueberries in the wide open blueberry plains, wild raspberries in the bushes, wild strawberries in the grassy fields,
cranberries in the scrub lands and bake apples in the bogs.

Bakeapple (Cloudberry)(Rubus Chamaemorus). 'Bakeapple' is internationally known as a 'Cloudberry'. It is similar in appearance to a rather large raspberry and has a distinct honey/apricot-like flavour. The color is orange/yellow and grows one berry to a plant approximately 3-4" high. Bakeapples are members of the rose family. The fruit is red when unripe and turns a soft golden orange at maturity. They are generally ready for picking around mid August. Bakeapples occupy a variety of moist northern tundra and peat bog habitats. These berries are extremely rich in vitamin C and contain few calories.





Blueberry patches remain magical in my memory....and the dumplings we made on the old stove in the aluminum pot.



We knew only wild strawberries, not the cultivated ones, so they seemed big to us and many hands picked enough for strawberry short cake make with buscuit dough hot from the oven and smothered in mashed berries.

Rock cranberries made good jam and was often mixed with blueberries.



We called the Sheep Sorrell sour-crout and grazed on it in the open.





Everything was done up in bottles and Pumpkin Preserves was Mom`s favourite. Green tomatoes went into chow-chow and rhubarb was stewed and poured over everything.

The best treat for kids besides peanut-butter on a spoon or big sticky raisins was Molasses Cake.



The Sheppard family home, Old Black River Road, Mac and Anna Sheppard and Patsy Sheppard, Paulette Sheppard.




Bicycles and babies on the Old Black River Road

Living on the Old Black River Road meant living in space and freedom, with neighbours we knew. We played outdoors always but had no transportation save our own feet. We walked to the bus stop, and even to town, to save the nickel. We stayed home mostly and made fun out of mud, water, woodpiles, hills, brooks, ditches, woods, fields, ice, snow, old tires, bikes, gocarts, dolls, balls, races, fights and games like Red Rover, Kick the can, hide&seek, baseball, card games, comic books, books, radio and primitive tv. We tamed crows, racoons and pigeons, killed snakes, shot deer, caught fish, raided orchards, picked berries, and dreamed of cowboys and food. We played with fire outdoors and feared it indoors. We galloped everywhere without a horse and shot everything that moved and wouldn't play dead with 6 shooters. We skated and tobogganed or slid on cardboard until we froze. We waded around in heavy, snow covered wollen pants, wore saggy lile stockings held up barely by waists and garters. We wet our bloomers and wiggled into our girdles. We were never lazy and never fat and somehow knew how to dress like ladies when the time came. We were smart all on our own. Mothers did housework and did not play with kids. Fathers went to work and were not to be bothered. Grandparents just tolerated we small vermin. And we were our own selves, alone on the adventure of life.




Looking after Grama, everyday.


Still fixing cars, great mechanic.

Uncles watch babies.

On Lawton farm, 1930's



Fresh air and wild flowers, skirts and space.




Snow babies and old dressers.


Waiting for bus with Rover and being alive on farm.





Kids, Kids, Kids.

Catching runaways.



Out with Gannie



Doorsteps and tarpaper.




Hard easy chairs

Winter and Summer.Always diapers.
Young daddy.







Ball team.



Front room, one tv, one radio, oil-cloth floor, wooden chairs.


Hunting camps

Brother, Rodney

Mud pie s all day.



At home in the sea, the sand, the waves, the rocks and the fog.






Kids of Black River Road

Muriel Lawton's tree.





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