I have never been in a root cellar in my entire life. I don't think I have ever even seen real root cellar doors in person. I have only seen these things through the eyes of others either in print, photos, or on film. But I can smell the smells & feel the air & the creepy, crawly things waiting to come out. My imagination is my worst enemy. My imagination will scare me far more than anything real. I have no desire to ever have a root cellar --- ever. On the other hand I have been in basements both fancy & crude & I do not understand what people find so creepy about basements. Now, a crude basement would suit me fine for storing foodstuffs & plants.

I enjoyed this so much Sharon. I could identify so with your feelings at that age. And we both know if my family had lived where root cellars could stay cool that I would have been assigned the same tasks that you were. Send the little ones into the tight, small places for the little ones fit.

Exactly, Anni!! You absolutely got it!

I asked dh if they had a root cellar when he lived in MInnesota and he said they did. Guess I always was a city girl. Iinteresting subject that I will have to learn about. I guess those old wooden doors just led into the basement. Do miss having a basement...

They had them often in the cities, too, Pegi, but it depended on the climate where you lived mostly, I think.

Wonderful article, brought back memories to me as well. My grandparents lived in the Greenlake area of Seattle and had a root cellar in the basement which we grandkids loved to explore and tell spooky stories in. Dusty, damp, and dark. Jars of preserves, baskets of spuds. Who knows what in the corners. A place to speak in whispers. I'd almost like to knock on the door of the current owners to ask if it is still there.

Wouldn't that be fun? Just to be able to go back and check out those scary dark corners again? I can almost smell the cellar, but I'd love to go back just to see what I saw then.

I'll tell you one more place that scared the bejeebers out of me, the attic in our house. My room was upstairs and the ceiling was an inverted V making the side walls pretty short, but tall enough for a door that led to the attic. Some winters we had beans drying on strings hanging in the attic. The attic was dry but cold, so the beans were OK. But they'd send me through the low door into the closet and on into the attic to bring a string or two of those dried beans downstairs to cook. Dried beans on a long string rattle. Like dried bones would rattle.

The light was in the closet, not in the attic part, so I'd have to feel my way with outstretched arms reaching through the dark trying to find a long string of beans. Visions of finger bones dancing through my head. I'd touch one and the whole thing would rattle and it would swing into a second string and like dominoes set the whole bunch of dried bean strings to rattling.

They cooked into great shucky beans though, when I finally got enough courage to hold on to a couple of the strings. Another scary place, that attic.

Oh my gosh, Sharon! We may have had a root cellar and didn't know it. There was a spot on the north side of our house where the grass browned out every summer. It was right outside the kitchen. We always thought that it might have been where a small summer kitchen was, and it may have very well been, but I never considered a root cellar. Unfortunately a patio was built over the top of it two years ago, or I'd be out there digging!

As many times as I've watched The Wizard of Oz, you would have thought that I would have known that a root cellar could be detached:)

Bonehead, If I were you, I'd take a chance on those new owners letting you see the old root cellar. We've lived in our home 33 years and a couple of years ago, the son of the lady we bought the house from was driving around and I just happened to be outside so he introduced himself. Weird, but even though he was only about 15 when we bought the house, I recognized him as soon as he said he used to live here. My husband gave him a grand tour of the house and the guy was just like a little kid:) He said that his sister would be so jealous because he got to go back home. Of course, we had made a lot of changes to the house, but he still enjoyed it.

That is a scary story, Sharon! Bony fingers

Maybe so, Vickie, your patio might be where an old root cellar was. Sometimes the old ones cave and there will be an indention in the area, but if left alone, and if roots were left there, things will usually find a way to grow. But most of the time there will still be a mound and often the sign of a door.

I'll bet the man did enjoy touring his old house. Nostalgia is usually pleasant.

An enjoyable piece Sharon.

Thanks, J.
You got a root cellar up there?

No root cellar but do have a basement stairwell w/ similar doors (which allows an easy access for storage of those gigantic Gloriosa pots).

Good about your stairwell area.

My huge gloriosa pot is nicely stashed in a dark corner, concrete floor, outer wall, of my studio. No heat in the studio, but it is connected to my house so it will get some winter heat. No windows in that corner and the winter heat might get up to 50 degrees in that particular area on some days. At least it won't freeze.

So maybe. It's the best I can do. I guess we'll know next spring.

I'm thinking they should do ok, keep it above freezing. My basement usually hovers around 60 over winter. I sometimes use said stairwell for forcing bulbs over winter.

In the plains of Arkansas, where my grandmother had her house, the water table was too high to have a root celler or basement. She had a "north room" a L-shaped closet off of the kitchen on an interior wall that held all of her crocks and canning. Her sister made do with a north facing back porch that she wrapped in plastic every fall.
I was always envious of people that had proper basements until we got our own...and learned how easily they could flood during torrential rains

Hi June,

I had forgotten the crocks. Sauer kraut, I loved it! And did y'all ever have a butter churn?

I guess folks mostly built whatever structure would work in their environment and I can see how water would determine the form it took. There aren't many basements here in this mostly flat land of W KY either, and for the same reason, as well as underground springs.

Great to see you, June!

I have a butter churn. Haven't used it. It's a glass jar with a handle on the top like an egg beater, and paddles inside the jar. When we had a milk cow we made butter in a crock churn that had a crockery lid and a plunger with a wooden handle. Up and down, up and down until the butter formed. Then we rinsed and worked the butter until there was no milk comming out of it, and put it into a wooden mold that had a design in the bottom. When turned out onto a plate, the design was on the top. MIL said that making butter was always a kid's job. She'd make bread and the kids made the butter, then they all had a treat when the bread was still warm from the oven. I don't know what ever happened to that crock churn, but I suspect that we were just overwelmed with moving everything and it was overlooked in a corner or behind a door. I'd sure like to have it now.

I love homemade butter and I'd love to be able to make it again. It must have been a child's job because I've done it and loved the design once it was turned out onto the butter dish. Our old churn made a lot of butter.

You'd have to get a cow, Mary, if you ever found your churn!

We always had one cow that Dad milked and when it came time to make butter, it was my sister Judy's job (mostly ). But whoever did it sat on the living room floor and watched TV while churning. Those glass jars were sturdy! But I think over the years a few got broke and it makes me wonder now if the butter was still in it when that happened . I think Judy inherited the last one as a remembrance of all those butter churning days