Summer Fun: Shingling the Corn Crib

Woman recalls getting over her fear of heights one summer while shingling the roof of her father’s corn crib.


| July/August 2012


Summers were long when I was a kid. I always looked forward to school getting out, but it was because I wanted a change in routine, not because I had anything to do besides trying to avoid helping Mom in the house.

One spring, when I was about 12, my dad said, “You can start shingling the corn crib when school’s out.” He had a new shingle hammer for me. It had a handle a little shorter than a regular hammer, but instead of claws on one side, it had a little hatchet blade. That blade was for slicing the wooden shingle into the right width when you came to the edge of the roof. He got bundles of cedar shakes, set the ladder up, and set me to work.

Our corn crib was like every other corn crib on farms at the time. It was made of wood, slightly longer than it was wide, and had an alleyway drive-through in the middle. The alleyway was wide enough and high enough for horses to pull a high-wheeled wooden wagon into it, with room to walk on either side of the wagon. Later, Dad got rubber-tired wagons, and they were a closer fit. You could still squeeze past the tires along the sides.

The corn crib held a lot of memories. We kids played in it when it was empty. The alleyway was cool in the summer. There, I filled many a bucket with ear corn or oats for the chickens, hogs, or whatever was hungry. I was usually elected to help Dad with chores. My sister hated doing chores, and I hated housework, so that’s the way we worked it out.



Dad always used the alleyway to hang freshly butchered animals to cool. The overhead rafters were high enough to hang a side of beef out of reach of the dog or other hungry animals.

The day I started shingling the corn crib, Dad climbed up the ladder with a bundle of cedar shingles, and I followed him. It took awhile for me to get up the ladder. It seemed very high and shaky. Getting from the ladder onto the roof took even longer. There was nothing to hang onto on the roof, and it seemed as slick as a snowbank. I did eventually get up there, and I crawled around, as flat as possible, keeping both hands and both knees in contact with the roof at all times. My shoes had leather soles that were worn shiny from daily trips to and from school on the dirt road, so they were no help in getting a grip on the roof.







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