I have buried pototoes in the hole in the ground. We plowed out 60 bushels one year with the help of a mule called "ole Bob." Neighbors around here still bury them in the ground. We used straw to insulate the hole. Butching time was a grand affair. neighbors came and spent the day and as many as 10 hogs were killed. The men killed, scalded and cut up the hogs, while the women ground the shoulders of the hogs into sausage, hams were sugar cured, salted and sewed in to large white sacks and hung in the "meathouse" this was all done by the women of the neighbors. I still have a scar on my finger from cutting the skin off these peices of meat before they could by grounded into sausage. Dinner on the ground was sausage biscuits and home canned cucumber pickles.one day was used to canned sausage, tenderlion. The next day was to render lard outside in a large pot to make soap. Lordy, Lordy, I had forgot how hard I had to work on that dang farm. We never went hungry and there was 7 of us no welfare either.
Dorothy Jo