On a very cold April day in 1880 Edith Philbrick noted in her diary that she’d walked up to Ducktrap to get some lime.

Two days later “I commenced to clean house. . . . Whitewashed and cleaned the front chamber. Set the bed up in the front chamber.”

Over the next week and a half as the weather zigged and zagged as it does in April, Edith methodically turned out her house, top to bottom.

April 15: “Pleasant. I cleaned my room and washed both entries upstairs and down, whitewashed and cleaned the little bedroom.

April 16: “Pleasant. I whitewashed and cleaned the front room, put the carpet down, put up the curtains and put the carpet down in the little bedroom.

April 17: “A snowstorm. I cooked some and then washed the larger bedroom.

April 18 was Sunday and Edith took the day off.

April 19: “Quite pleasant. I cleaned the large bedroom this afternoon.

April 20: “I cleaned the large pantry and porch entry. Whitewashed for Mrs. French.

April 21: “Pleasant. Aunt L. came over. I cleaned the porch and we moved the stove.

April 22: “Cloudy. I cleaned the front entry and whitewashed the sitting room.

April 23: “Quite windy. I cleaned the pantry. Aunt L. went with Edie F. to get Mayflowers.”

April 24: “Pleasant. I cleaned the sitting room.”

And presumably, Edith then sat down with a cup of tea and admired her work.

What was all that whitewashing about? Remember, before she started this marathon spring cleaning Edith went up to the Trap to get some lime. By the end of winter ceilings and walls must have been covered in soot from the wood fires and kerosene lamps. Though whitewashing has a whole different meaning today, covering up dirty walls is a pretty good description for what goes on in politics.

But back in Edith Philbrick’s day she could have made her own whitewash with this recipe: “mix 2 cups of salt with 1 gallon of warm water and stir to dissolve the salt. Then mix in 6 to 8 cups of hydrated lime”.

As a new homeowner (and wife) I used to do my own version of spring cleaning, though it never involved whitewashing. More like intensive vacuuming and dusting, the chores I’d seen my mother do every day. Since I was determined to not be my mother, my house was (still is) dusty as a matter of course. And dusty is being charitable.

But in those early days of babies coming, my parents made the trip to Maine two or three times a year, causing me a frantic week of cleaning before their arrival for my mother! Figure that one out.

Spring cleaning gradually gave way to cleaning up the yard. Specifically, this year is means hauling the save pile to the burn pile.

I’m a saver; I have a hard time throwing anything away, as exemplified by the pile behind the barn. Our long history in this house is written there, though I’m the only one to read it.

The remnants of the home-made ladder that led to the barn loft – the loft that’s now a living room; the ramp for Wally’s wheelchair the summer before he died; the section of picket fence – re-purposed many times, but originally for the front garden I put in the year our middle son was born; our first miter box, now replaced by a fancy chop saw; an archive of fence posts – cow pasture, hen yard, pig pen – fences that kept in all our critters; a pair of wonky homemade sawhorses; the bottomless galvanized tub that against all evidence we thought would contain horseradish; a pile of hemlock boards for garden beds – they look okay on the outside but have rotted on the inside.

“It’s got to go,” my D-I-L suggested a while ago. The whole pile has to go.

I see her point. All the good old boards are neatly stacked under the barn along with the equipment we’ve accumulated – the mowers, shredder, snow blower, and rototiller. These worn-out bits and pieces of our history do need to go.

But possibly, just maybe the picket fence gets one more chance. I know the perfect spot for it.

Read the whole of Edith Philbrick’s 1880 diary on the Lincolnville Historical Society’s website.  

Town

The petition for a moratorium on piers will be considered at this Monday, April 25 Selectmen’s meeting. According to David Kinney there are several steps to getting a vote on the moratorium at the June Town Meeting. Selectmen’s meetings are open to the public; meeting starts at 6 at the Town Office.

Soup Café Returns!

The Thursday Soup Café, sponsored by United Christian Church, has returned to the Community Building, weekly except for the first Thursday of the month. A variety of homemade soups, breads, and desserts are served; it’s free to all, though donations are welcome. Soup Café starts at noon. See you there!