MARY'S FORGET-ME-NOTS

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Part 3.  The Farm at Fenner Hill

When I first saw the country around Thurles in County Tipperary in Ireland, I thought "this is why Grandpa Burke bought the farm at the top of Fenner Hill."

When we were children, we spent many happy days with Grandma and Grandpa Burke. Grandma Burke's brother, Uncle Billy, had built his house about a mile down the hill and the two men set out a row of maple trees bordering the road, from one farm to the other. At the foot of the hill was a little brook where Tom said he often rode the horses to water. There was always a Big Nell and a Little Nell - but we named the cows too, and the pigs as well as the hens. (I recall my mother saying that Tom refused to eat any of the meat brought from the farm because he couldn't eat a pig he knew).

My pet hen was a speckled fuss-budget named Roxy Palmer - after one of my mother's friends. I loved to watch her rounding up her chicks, as she pointed out to them the good scratching places. To watch the pigs, was just as fascinating - there were greedy pigs and sloppy pigs. Some of the other farm animals were more socially acceptable at feeding time - but the little pink pigs squealing with delight had a certain understandable appeal to a five year old.

There was an apple orchard between the house and the barns. Often Grandma Burke brought sugar cookies and a big pitcher of milk to a table in the orchard. Here, we would watch the cows on their way to the barn - rounded up by a wonderful collie dog, Laddie. Near the barns was a rail fence overgrown with wild blackberry bushes and an occasional red raspberry clump. Each morning Grandma and we would start out on our egg hunt. First, we'd go to familiar spots where we had deposited glass eggs hoping a guileless hen would go no farther. There was double joy, of course, if we found our plot had succeeded and we had gained an egg and a little fist of sweet red berries.

Another treat I remember was when Grandma took us out in the early morning to the spot where she gathered mushrooms and carried them home in her apron. She would toast them on the hot kitchen stove with a dab of butter on the top of each. We were warned though, never to gather any by ourselves and never eat berries except in the house.

Near the woodshed was a smokehouse where hams were hung. We kept a safe distance from the woodshed because it was the resting place of a big, fat tortoise-colored cat who resented children interfering with her snooze. If we could elude the cat, we'd run in our bare feet up a cool mud path in the orchard to watch Grandpa and Uncle Ed milk the cows. They'd bring the milk to the Buttery and pour it into big flat pans. Then, after the cream rose, Grandma would take a big wooden ladle and skim off the cream to make butter. This we'd put on homemade bread - and, with a bowl of newly shelled garden peas - we had a feast fit for a king.

In the fall we looked forward to the day when Grandpa would drive up with a big load of potatoes, apples, cabbages, big crocks of butter and several barrels of meat in salt brine - enough for Aunt Jo Hanlon's family and ours to last all winter.

Inside the farmhouse was a parlor that was rarely used, but we used to slip into it occasionally to look at the stereopticon views which were on the marble-topped table. There were wonderful views of the Vatican, the White House and Niagara Falls and a sprinkling of comic scenes. On the What-not in the corner was a small pig with bristles on its back - Grandma gave this to Anna and, to me, she gave a lady's high button shoe with a pin-cushion on top. We treasured these little gifts. On the bottom shelf of the What-not was a big seashell which we'd hold up to our ears to hear the sea.

There was a fireplace in the parlor and also one in the sitting room but they were closed up because Grandma thought a nice new wood stove was much more comfortable. Above the mantle in the parlor was a picture of three ladies - Faith, Hope and Charity - and the mantle shelf was balanced by two

vases of everlasting flowers, gathered in the meadow opposite the house. The carpet was of Red Brussels and the parlor set was done in horsehair. Later, they gave the horsehair sofa to Aunt Jo and I remember sitting on it reading the funny papers and story books to all the younger children.

We thought Grandpa was really the original Santa Claus. He had bright blue eyes and a whit beard that he said he grew long so that he wouldn't have to wear a necktie! We liked to hear his jokes and he used to say to each of us - YOU'RE THE FINEST CHILD IN THE TOWN!!!

So, children, if you're wise or rare--

Pick your grandparents with care!!

Our Grandpa O'Donnell had a small farm at Fishers NY about half was between Rochester and Canandaigua - pre-Civil War Time. It was at the Canandaigua Court House that our father said his father enlisted for the Civil War, where he served under Capt. Parker in the Heavy Artillery.

When Grandpa O'D and Grandma (Anne Howe O'D) were first married, they lived at Williamsport PA where our father was born. They moved to Perryville before our father was seven years old. The little farmhouse was about half way from Grandpa Burke's farm at the top of Fenner Hill. The little red schoolhouse where our mother and father went to school was a short distance from Uncle Tom's farm. It was a one mile walk to school for our father from his home and it was a two mile walk for our mother and her brothers and sisters. They all grew up together. Our father was three years older than our mother. He said he was as big as most men when he was twelve years old, and was earning - in Civil War Times - a man's pay - "$1.00 a day rain or shine".

After the Civil War, Grandpa O'D. went out to Nebraska to claim his land for army service. The Homestead Act provided settlers with 160 acres and eventual ownership but they had to live two years on the site. At the end of the first winter, messengers brought word to Grandma that Grandpa died of the "fever" with 20 others of his army comrades when an epidemic swept the camp.

After our parents were married, Grandma O'Donnell lived alone in her snug little house which I remember well. (During winter's cold weather, she came to us on Yates Street.) In the sitting room was a spool day-bed which Margaret and I had in our first apartment and a spool drop-leaf table which we used many years on Alpine Drive in Rochester. In 1972 Margaret and I drove up to Fenner Hill. The farm houses and barns are all gone, the county road has been widened -

Web-Master's note: Mary O'Donnell Montague remembers that her great uncle Tom Burke (the brother of her grandmother, Mary Ellen Burke) owned a farm at the foot of Fenner Hill Road.  During the 1930's and 1940's, Mary and her sisters (Anne, Betty, and Jeanne) had often visited Uncle Tom's farm to sit on the front porch and enjoy the view.

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