Today’s guest post was written by Celia Miles.
The Spring House
Along secondary roads, you might see architectural relics of “the good ole days:” storefronts with the typical overhang under which two gas pumps would have been stationed, an “apple house” burrowed into a hillside, a wheel or a grist mill. But one small structure seldom (never) seen from a vehicle is preindustrial, pre-icebox: nature’s refrigerator—the spring house.
I remember only one, a neighbor’s down the road. Built over a stream into a hillside where the water flowed rapidly, it boasted a roof, a door, walls, but no floor or window. Back in the woods, the log building was chinked to keep out curious critters and its tree canopy partnered with the water. A few steps down the bank led to the door and a dark damp world. On large flat stones two or three inches deep in the water sat the gallons and half gallons of sweet milk, buttermilk, quarts of heavy cream, butter and eggs in securely-lidded crocks. I step inside with some trepidation.
Not exactly scary, the sunless gloom united with the cold rushing water to create an eerie dream world. Moss covered the edges, a few pale vines sneaked toward a slit of sunlight, a large lizard or a water snake sometimes plopped into the water. “And no birds sang” to disturb the repetitive watery gurgle.
Back in sunlight’s reality, I carry home two icy milk jars, Mason or Ball, imprinted on my bare arms.
—Celia Miles
Celia sent me this guest post after reading what I wrote about the magic of springs. I really enjoyed her writing and I hope you did too.
The photo at the top of this post is another from Western Carolina University’s Southern Appalachian Digital Collections. Here’s the information about it:
This unsigned photograph of Tom Barnett’s spring house at Peachtree, N.C. was taken by Doris Ulmann around 1933 or 1934. The spring house is just visible on the left. One can see the interlocked logs at the corner and the bark roof. In the background is a cauldron which was used for laundry and dyeing. This photograph appears in Allen Eaton’s book, “Handicrafts of the Southern Highlands.”
I was over in upper Peachtree yesterday. I know Tom Barnett’s spring house is long gone but reading Celia’s post makes me wish I could go find it and spend some time listening for the plop of a spring lizard or water snake.
Last night’s video: Common Folks 4.
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The Elliot springhouse still stands in upper Peachtree (although it may not for much longer)…It is situated on a spring on Elliot branch (now 30 feet off of Ali Wood Way)…Miz Lizzie was born in her father’s cabin in 1915 and lived there as a spinster until her death 1989…the cabin was taken down in 1997 but the chimney and hearth remain. Miz Lizzie lived all her life with no running water…the spring was a few steps from the back door.
My grandma Zella Dillingham had a springhouse where she would go each morning , at “first light,” to get her jar of mild and print of butter (her wooden mold had a crack in it, so the flower on the “print” of butter showed that crack). In my book of poems, FIRST LIGHT, I began the book with this poem in homage to my grandmother:
“First Light”
Soft as smoke rising
she moves
transparent
in white nightgown
barefoot
along the trace
to the springhouse
lifts the latch
and takes
from its cool
haven
one print
of sweet butter
delicate
as the flower
imperfectly implanted
on its smooth
round face
I’m happy my “Spring House” piece elicited so many memories from Tipper’s readers. When my youngest sister read it, she had never heard of a spring house–and only ten years and a move to town separate us.
My Daddy would take lots of empty milk jugs to fill up with spring water whenever we visited. He made lots of kraut with all those big cabbages he grew. One year he used our Northern OH water. He threw all of the kraut out, never used it again. Good cold Spring water is what the water in Heaven will taste like!
I saw them growing up, and I sure wish I had paid more attention. My grandparents had the spring, but no spring house. According to my young uncle a snake we saw at the spring was not a water snake, but he reported to Grandma it was a “poison” snake and he could tell by it was “slithering sideways.” I always thought he was such a smart young uncle. I loved Celia Miles story about the spring house, and thought she had such a way with words. I too remember carrying heavy items that left an imprint on my arms. Our beautiful Appalachia has just a world of great stories there for the telling, and I love nothing better than a good storyteller. Mr. Ed Ammons can tell a great story about anything.
My grandparents had a spring house in their backyard. Went often with my grandmother and great grandmother to get milk, buttermilk, clabber and butter from it. Even after getting an electric refrigerator they continued to use it. They have passed but the spring house reminds standing. Thanks for a reminder of wonderful memories.
Daddy never built a spring house. Instead he built a “spring box” out of poured concrete below the spring. Water from the spring kept the spring box filled. A pipe ran from spring box into the house. I never had to carry water! Not at our house anyway.
Daddy did build an “egg room” as he called it. He had to keep hatching eggs cooled and at a constant temperature. What better place than a room built next to a stream and back into the mountainside? Three walls were built of rock and mortar with the front one of wood. The ceiling was of wood boards nailed to 2″ x 8″ joists. Between the joists he put planer shavings to act as insulation. About that was a tin roof. The roof at the back was touching the mountainside.
Prior to hatching, eggs need to be kept at about 55ºF. The “egg room” stayed at about that temperature year around. But not only eggs like that temperature, so do potatoes, cabbages, turnips, canned goods and little boys who need a place to warm up when the bitter winds blew and to escape summers sweltering heat.
Grammaw Cora had a proper spring house but I’ll talk about it at another time.
I have never seen a spring house either, but my husband’s grandmother and I used to talk a lot about the old ways, and she told me about how they used to keep their milk and other things in their spring house. I would have loved to have seen it but by then, they had moved into town, and she said it was no longer there. What my husband and I remember as children were the “ice boxes” and there was an icehouse in one town over and I remember the blocks of ice that were bought to keep our milk and things cold. Some folks still say “ice box” referring to their refrigerator. If you mention an icehouse now adays the young folks think it’s a place to go ice skating. Times sure have changed. Have a great day everyone!!
Celia’s words painted a very detailed picture of the spring house. She is gifted! I once found a bottomless little wooden structure tucked into the shadows of an overgrown bank ledge, with the back hanging over the Suwannee River under a batch of trees. It was far up from the river and I assumed it was an old outhouse no longer in use, of course. Now I’m wondering if it was actually an old spring house covering up one of the multitudes of springs feeding into the river. Perhaps it was used as one since there were many rock ‘ledges’ sticking out from the bank high up facing the north side of the river – maybe cooler with little sun. At least that is what I’ll tell myself and imagine the old homestead no longer standing but located somewhere nearby. It will give me pleasant thoughts to remember a harder, simpler, more in tune with the earth, way of living so long ago.
I’m wishing Mother was still here so I could share this with her. Uncle Tom Barnett was married to one of her Aunts and she liked going there. I remember going to the Spring with a lard bucket getting water for the wash pot for my Granny Craig long long ago. Thanks for the memories.
there’s a spring house by the pond at the cabin where i used to stay in brasstown, but i think it is a more recent, decorative addition. the ducks used to live in it, before the hawks got them…
I so enjoyed this Miss Tipper, I’m so glad Celia wrote her story and shared it with you so you could share it with us!
I never remember experiencing one of these spring houses when I was growing up, even though I had heard about them and knew what they were used for.
But we did get to see one this past year as we visited one of the old home places in Cades Cove, and I tried to get some footage of it to share on our channel, but there was a family there at the same time we were and they were just letting their kids run wild all around and in and out of the old spring house (which they were not suppose to be doing) so I couldn’t get any good footage.
But it was a beautiful sight to see that old spring house with the stream still flowing through it. I just stood there trying to visualize all the goings on that went on there on that very property so many years ago. Such a treasure to see, especially for a history nut like myself. Please keep sharing these stories of long ago. Thanks.
Love reading these stories. I wonder what the temperature was in these mountain spring houses in summer. Being sent to get food out had to be a coveted chore.
I’m so glad you posted Celia’s story of her family’s Spring House. The details of what the inside looked like makes me now wonder if the Spring House on my dad’s uncle’s farm was actually a Spring House. That’s what they called it, but it didn’t have an actual flowing water in it. It did however have an old hand pump, dirt floors, was built in a hillside and was always much cooler than the outside. It always reminded me of opening the refrigerator. They stored baskets of garden vegetables and home canned jars on wood shelves they built in it. I guess I’ll never know now since all my dad’s side of the family haven passed. I’ll have to ask my sisters if they remember. Thank you for sharing Celia’s memories of her Spring House, I really enjoyed it.
Our old Springhouse still stands today just as it did when my grandparents stored sweet milk, buttermilk, watermelons in its icy cold trough of crystal clear water. We relied on the ever-flowing spring for our drinking water and it was eventually piped into the old farmhouse. Everyone loved its taste brought forth from the abundant Wakefield Valley Aquifer in Maryland. Deep underground it was filtered and flavored by veins of limestone. The Springhouse served as the first dwelling at The Deeps, our family farm. Its metal roof shelters the spring box in a stone walled patio, 3 steps down from ground level. The water flows from its stone- lined containment into the next room where the stone-lined trough fills up as a reservoir before it runs outside into a half-acre pond, also fed by springs. Some of the boards of the walls and ceiling are almost three feet wide. Adjacent to that room is a sort of living area with a fireplace that was used for cooking, heating water fir laundry and for warming the dwelling. A window at the base of the two flights of wooden overlooks the pond where cattle and sheep grazed for decades. The upstairs is lined with rafters that bear marriage marks – roman numerals that helped the builders back in the early 180os match the wood that they first fitted on the ground. The length of the building, about 25 feet, is framed with two single logs. The siding serves as the interior walls. Three windows brighten the upper room as well as provide views of the three areas not nestled into the hillside that harbors the ever-flowing spring. After so many years of serious use, it made a fun place to play. The initials of my cousins and me, a V for Victory after WWII, and other interesting graffiti make it a museum of memorable moments. The Old Springhouse at The Deeps exists today because it is made of American Chestnut, no longer growing wild in Maryland. It is a treasure of memories and history, and still brings forth an abundant supply of spring water.
I know where an old spring house is near the Boy Scout Camp past Nottely Dam…and not far past that is a spring walled in.
I have never never seen a spring house. My best friend talks about his grandparents having one on up into the 50’s and using it to keep their milk and other things in. They were still milking a cow and churning their own butter and having the old time butter milk. He says after drinking her buttermilk, today’s store bought buttermilk is not fitting to drink. I know of someone of today building a cement block and floor building around a spring and putting a well pump in it and using it for his homes source of water. I have lived in a rural area all of my life and mainly drive on secondary roads. I see many old store fronts and other things of the past. I put flowers on my paternal grandparents grave located in the Saylors Crossroad area onAnderson County, SC last weekend and passed by an old store beginning to fall in and thought of my daddy, he would always tell me about spending the first dollar he ever made in that store. He would also tell me about the store owner’s pet coon and a tom cat jumping on the coon. The cat soon found out that was a mistake! Things built into hillsides makes me think of older generations in my area. Both of my grandparents and other ones of their generation had something called storm pits dug into a bank or into the side of a hillside close to their homes. This would be a 4 dirt wall hole big enough to stand up and move around in with an entrance door and a braced roof covered over with dirt. They would go into these pits during bad thunderstorms in case of a tornado. One of my grandparents had theirs dug into the side of a high roadside bank,. It is now fell in and grown over but you can still see where the door and front door were.
I love the posts on Spring houses! As a child my Granny Creason had a Spring house and a wooden pump in the kitchen. A passel of young un’s slept on the attic floor with a chamber pot in the corner. We stood on a chair at the sink to brush our teeth and Granny let us rinse with a dipper of water from her wooden bucket or a small glass. Outside we went and to a child we knew if we got too close to the Spring house a grown up would tan our hides! Deep and pure and still cherished in my old heart❤
I’ve always found springs and spring houses fascinating. The best water I’ve ever drank has come from mountain springs. Spring houses were, and are, a wonderful way to keep perishable goods.
Days gone by, for sure! But I can still remember the spring house at my
grandmothers!
We had the wonderful enjoyment of seeing close up several old spring houses when we were in North Carolina some 10 years back. There was an eerie calmness about them with the gurgling water coming from depths unknown. It was so cool and the water frigid even though it was a warm day. I doubt there’s a spring house anywhere in Texas these days. But I still wish I had one.
I do not remember those, but I do remember years ago having ice delivered to place in the ‘ice box’…gosh were those the days or what…lol