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Rolling the Roads
The Days Before Snow Plows
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A major storm throughout the night
__Of heavy, wet, spring snow.
Nor’easter off the coast of Maine
__Hence wicked winds did blow.
When finally the storm was over,
__A six-horse team stood hitched
To a double drum snow roller;
__Teams frequently were switched.
In olden days of horse and sleigh
__When roads were shaped of dirt,
Each village had to roll their roads,
__Great effort to exert.
Each of the two big cylinders
__Worked independently,
And made sure turns were slow on corners,
__For smoothness was the key.
Each drum spanned five to eight feet wide,
__Was built of heavy oak.
Often close to six feet high,
__They seldom ever broke.
A back blade shaved the wet snow off,
__Kept it from sticking on;
Helped hours pass without a hitch
__When starting out at dawn.
The teamster perched upon the seat,
__‘Twas wide enough for two—
If he was teaming all alone,
__Room for a pot of stew.
He’d wend along in one direction,
__Turn back the other way;
The road was made just wide enough
__To fit another sleigh.
Today there’s asphalt wide and straight,
__huge trucks to plow the snow.
Scant concept of a rural life
__one hundred years ago.
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Phil S. Rogers is a sixth generation Vermonter, age 72, now retired, and living in Texas. He served in the United States Air Force and had a career in real estate and banking. He previously published Everlasting Glory, a historical work that tells the story of each of the men from Vermont that was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor during the Civil War.
This is a fascinating poem of a long-lost historical era and the methods that once were used to clear the dirt roads. I noted you were a former Vermonter and certainly were acquainted with snow drifts and winter weather. Welcome to Texas as a “refuge” from bad winters as I was at the age of thirteen having moved from South Dakota to Texas. Your poem is smooth and informative with excellent rhyme. I love to read historical poems and yours was certainly worth reading and learning.
Our Northern Vermont winters could be long and hard. I moved to Texas after I retired. The state I grew up in was gone. I started writing poems on old Vermont / New England, as a way of showing my son and daughter now in their 40’s what the old days and people were like. So different than today, and it is great to be able to share them with Society readers as well. So glad you enjoyed it.
I also endured harsh winters (mine were north of the border) for many years before moving to Texas but never once wondered how snow was dealt with before the advent of paved roads and the internal combustion engine. Thanks for the education this morning!
So glad you enjoyed the poem. An hour’s drive north from where I was born and grew up, and you were in Quebec. My wife’s great grandfather was hired to build a double snow roller by the town of Chatham, New Hampshire several years before WWI. He was paid $700 and it took the better part of a year.
We need more poems like this that are both enjoyable and accurately describe our history. I once checked out a library book with photos of exactly what you describe. Think of what they had to deal with during the blizzard of 1888! Do you recall ice cutting as well?
Hi Cheryl; Thank you for your nice comment. Ice cutting, certainly. I have written a poem called The Ice House, but have not submitted it yet.
Loved the history lesson and the nice poem, thanks!
Unpaved dirt roads eventually gave way to cobblestoned streets, of which we still have a few in lower Manhattan. A very old gentleman told me that the cobblestones were good for horses, but with the coming of the automobile smooth asphalt paving couldn’t be stopped.
On Long Island in the 1950s, one could see some remote roads paved with square long blocks of wood that were hammered down into the dirt road. I doubt very much that any of them have survived.
I loved this, Phil. Very visual and a new nugget of history to file away.
I particularly liked the pot of stew image, and can both visualise and smell it whilst fighting off a shiver.
Thanks for the read.
Phil, what a thoroughly enjoyable educative poem. Thank you! If all my school history lessons had been written in verse like this, I am sure my marks would have been much higher. How quickly one hundred years passes… but oh, the changes. I doubt anyone born today would be able survive a severe snowstorm, or life itself, without the ease modern industry and technology have allowed. It looks like we’re on the verge of slipping back to the dark ages… perhaps we should start toughening up!
in days of old humans were inventive in their ways
of dealing with nature. one of my forebears was a teamster,
he drove a heavy delivery wagon pulled by draft horses.
of course, in those days if the weather was bad people
stayed home and did not make “smog”. they went with the
flow.
Enjoyable read. I like the ending returning us from a journey down roads well pressed by meter and rhyme. I grew up very rural and remember first hearing about snow plows and I couldn’t get my visual imagination around the concept. It seemed to counterintuitive to 1. Plow? snow? and 2. And not plow the street. Or why? We got around just fine when it snowed. Nice to think back on those times again.
Phil, you add touches of old-fashioned or regional language (calling the winds “wicked,” using “’twas” and some bits of word order that may seem stilted today) to your informative tale of old ways. Moving into modern times with an efficient half-stanza is a good way to conclude. Especially enjoyed the pot of stew that gave the solo teamster warmth in addition to lunch.