I have no actual memories of living on the farm. What I have are the stories Mum told me about those early years. For example, my first injury.
Here’s a picture of my Dad (2nd from right) and three of his buddies leaning against a vehicle used for winter transport before cars were common. It is basically a small shed on runners. Note the wagon tongue for hitching the horses, the snow-covered roof and even a chimney protruding through it.
Yes, this little roofed shed on skis contained a working wood stove. Passengers sat on wooden benches around the stove to enjoy the ride in heated comfort.
We were riding in a vehicle like this when it overturned on a snowdrift and I banged my head against the stove. I can only assume it was a short enough trip or a mild enough day that the stove was not lit for I could have been badly burned. As it was I escaped with only a bruise.