THE LOST COAL

It snowed again most of the day yesterday.  Probably because of the high wind that accompanied it, yesterday’s worth didn’t consist of that much accumulation, maybe an inch or two.  Except for one or two snowfalls with those beautiful, fluffy humongous flakes, most of this winter’s white downfalls have consisted of very small flakes, reminiscent of either the old Ivory flakes laundry soap or its counterpart, Ivory snow.  Even so, beautiful in its own way. 

Two days before that, the sun was warm enough to put a big dent in the white ground covering leaving large, bare patches in the yard.  The next day was interesting.  I’d look out my kitchen window, and the sun was shining brightly.  The next time I looked, it was snowing—hard.  Then the sun would shine, then more snow.  This kept up most of the day, with the sun having the last say-so before night fell.

I kept wondering what was so different about these snows from those of my childhood.  Finally, I remembered—there was no soot blanketing the pure white.  In the nearly forty years we were in Florida, the basic heating evolution changed from coal to gas or electricity, or even those outside burners using wood and sometimes, yes, even coal.

This used to be “coal country.”  We had lots of strip jobs around.  Almost everywhere you would look, a month or two later, the ground, trees, and beauty would be stripped away so the dozers could reach the coal that was lying just underneath.  For many, many years the mining companies were not required to backfill or landscape any of these destructive trenches which scarred the mountainous terrain, which was a shame.  Now, with stricter overseeing, the land is being restored to a better condition.

There was, and still is, also deep-mining is some areas.  The last few years, when we’d come north for the summer to escape the southern humidity, I used to be kept awake at night by the sound of coal trucks coming and going to the pits just over the next mountain.

The heating change from coal has not only left whiter snow, it has almost removed the need for the traditional “Spring Housecleaning.”  It was the coal dust on the walls and the curtains, and that permeated the rest of the house that needed to be washed away, more than the need for an annual cleaning spree.

But along with the heating change, there are a lot of lost memories our children will never know, for they haven’t and probably won’t experienced them. 

For instance, my father would bank the furnace at night, putting enough coal on to supply a bit of warmth throughout the night, but mostly just to keep the coals in the furnace hot enough to become active in the morning.  The house cooled down overnight and no one wanted to put their nose out from under the covers until we heard dad shaking the ashes down, stoking up the coals, and shoveling on more of that hard, black fuel.  Then we’d race each other to the registers to soak up the heat coming through.

The ashes were a blessing, too.  They were used on the roads to give cars traction where there were icy spots (instead of today’s salt or other chemicals) or in the ruts to help us get out of snow-stuck places (instead of cat litter).  They were also used in the gardens to supply nutrients for the summer crop.

The registers were not only good for us to sit on when we came in from playing in the snow, or on those cold mornings, but there was usually one out-of-the way register that held a three-pound coffee tin of water to hydrate the dry winter heat.  Another way my mother used to rejuvenate the house was to open both the front and back doors and let the wind blow through for a few minutes. It was quite chilly as she did it, but boy, did the house smell fresh afterwards!

The year after Jerry and I were married, we moved out to a farm—not to farm, but for the room and the cheaper rent.  One of the factors for the move was that the house was supplied with gas heat from a capped well on the property.  We lived there about three years before dynamite set off at a nearby strip mine cracked the casing of the well and our supply of gas was lost.

The landlord did the only thing left to do and converted the huge furnace in the basement back to burning coal. 

That meant that I became the fireman since the furnace was located in the basement in a section reached only through an outside door.  And since that door was around a corner from the back porch where the winds piled snow waist-high, Jerry was not able to navigate the walk on his crutches.  My puny night-time banking skills were not equal to my father’s, and inevitably the furnace went out—usually about two in the morning.

I get very grumpy when wakened from a sleep.  Early morning icy cold in the house, having to push my way through the wet, cold snow outside, and fighting the huge furnace (the farmhouse had five bedrooms and a bath upstairs and four sizeable rooms and a bath on the first floor, so it needed a LARGE furnace to heat the house) to get lit…and stay lit…didn’t help my disposition!

Needless to say, we moved into town the following summer.

Coal had another advantage, besides heating our homes.  It provided us the pleasure of watching our coal gardens bloom.  “Coal” gardens, sometimes referred to as “depression flower” gardens, or “salt crystal” gardens, are a fascinating thing to behold.  If you put “coal” gardens into the search program of your computer (I use Google) you should get a row of coal garden pictures.  If you click the “more gardens” underneath the pictures, a whole page of pictures comes up.  There was also a heading labeled “depression.”  The very first picture was the most beautiful coal garden I have ever seen, full of beautiful pastel “flowers”.

Even with puzzles, board games, and cards, my mother sometimes had a hard time in the winter keeping us entertained.  I remember her helping us make these gardens.  If you want to try your hand at it, I have copied her recipe for you.  As with a regular garden, proper watering is key to its growth.

Wash a hunk of coal and put it in the center of a dish (it is best if the dish has a low spot, a lip, or sides),  stir the mixture until the salt is dissolved, slowly and carefully pour over the coal, then put drops of food coloring over the mixture.  Set aside and watch.  In a few days crystals will start to grow on the coal.

The mixture:  6 Tbs. common salt, 6 Tbs. bluing, 6 Tbs. water, 1 Tbs. ammonia.

Suggestions:  Coal can sometimes be purchased at a landscaping store, bluing is found in the laundry section of a grocery store, and ammonia can be found in the cleaning section.  ALWAYS add the ammonia to the water, NEVER add water to ammonia.  Ammonia is foul smelling and the water activates the odor if added to the ammonia.

More suggestions.  To vary the landscape, you might want to glue tiny branches to the coal.  If you do, make sure the glue is dry before adding the mixture.  If bare spots occur, add more ammonia water.  Be careful of splashes.  Growth will occur wherever the mixture goes.  Make sure the coal stays damp by putting a little water in the dish when it dries out.

Have fun with your gardens, and let me know how they turn out.