Mostly sunny. High 84F. Winds SW at 5 to 10 mph..

A few passing clouds. Low 63F. Winds SSW at 5 to 10 mph.

Aldege and Vitaline Menard stand in front of the historic Ballou farmhouse in Cumberland in 1913. At left is

The family of Aldege Menard stand in front of their former farmhouse, which was lost to a fire a few years after he sold the farm.

A 1924 photograph from the Menard family album shows family members, farmhands — and what could possibly be the pilot — posing in front of the wreckage of a plane that crashed on the farm.

Aldege Menard prepares to deliver Menard’s Dairy milk to customers.

Aldege Menard’s daughters in a photo labeled “milking time, Sept. 1918”

Four granddaughters of Aldege Menard, Germaine Salciarini, Rosina Dumont, Orise Corriveau and Alice Cornille share their experiences on their grandfather’s farm.

Aldege and Vitaline Menard stand in front of the historic Ballou farmhouse in Cumberland in 1913. At left is

The family of Aldege Menard stand in front of their former farmhouse, which was lost to a fire a few years after he sold the farm.

A 1924 photograph from the Menard family album shows family members, farmhands — and what could possibly be the pilot — posing in front of the wreckage of a plane that crashed on the farm.

Aldege Menard prepares to deliver Menard’s Dairy milk to customers.

Aldege Menard’s daughters in a photo labeled “milking time, Sept. 1918”

Four granddaughters of Aldege Menard, Germaine Salciarini, Rosina Dumont, Orise Corriveau and Alice Cornille share their experiences on their grandfather’s farm.

CUMBERLAND – The memories come flooding back for these sisters as they viewed the photos. Sitting around a table at the Bear Hill Village senior living community last Thursday, they swapped stories about their carefree childhood in Cumberland.

The Menard family ran a booming dairy business for several decades at the original Ballou farm on West Wrentham Road in Cumberland, just over the Woonsocket line. Their family photo album, seen by only relatives until now, offers a glimpse into life in the Blackstone Valley from the turn of the century to the 1940s when the original farmhouse was lost to a fire.

The buildings and stone walls are long gone, but the grandchildren of Aldege Menard, many in their 90s, still remember life on the farm as if it was yesterday.

The so-called James Ballou (1684-1764) farmhouse was adjacent to the Elder Ballou Meeting House, which was also lost to a fire. The farm passed through the Ballou family until 1857, when it was sold to Jason B. Adams.

Aldege Menard worked as a farmhand for Adams before purchasing the land, where he raised his five daughters and operated Menard Dairy.

Among Aldege’s daughters was Vitaline, who married Leopold Montmarquette. They had nine children of their own. Four of those children sat down with The Valley Breeze to share their memories of the farm last week: Alice Cornille, 94; Orise Corriveau, 92; Rosina Dumont, 90, and Germaine Salciarini, 88, all of Cumberland.

Corriveau’s earliest memory on the farm is of running away.

That’s not to say she hated living there. Just the opposite, in fact. But that particular evening, the siblings were left in the care of a couple who prepared food that left 4-year-old Orise and her 6-year-old sister Alice running for the hills.

They didn’t make it very far.

“We headed down the back road from the little barn, not too far from where the plane landed. The man came after us,” Corriveau said. “That’s my earliest recollection of the farm.”

Around 1924, an airplane crash-landed on the farm. There are several photos of the crash in the Menard family album, showing family members and farmhands posing alongside the mangled wreck and what appears to be the pilot. Their mother was 24 years old and told her children about the crash.

The sisters’ childhood was a mix of work and play. Their grandfather didn’t have a milking machine for many years, so that work was done by hand. As long as their chores were done, the girls were free to explore.

“Oh, I love that place,” said Corriveau. “It broke my heart when they moved me downcity. I’d have made a good farmer’s wife. I didn’t mind cleaning the muck, milking the cows, or harnessing the horse to rake the hay. Oh, I loved it.”

Seven of the nine children were born in the farmhouse, which was split into two separate dwellings. Their grandparents and the farmhands slept on the left side of the home, while the children and their parents occupied the right.

There was no heat in the upstairs bedroom where they slept. Orise remembers using an icebox, and pumping water into the kitchen. Their mother made their clothes out of materials delivered to the house by a trunk salesman.

“We didn’t have a variety of clothes like they do today,” Corriveau said, joking, “I think my stockings could have walked by themselves.”

Laundry day, Monday, was literally an entire day’s work.

“We’d push everything in the kitchen against the wall, take out the folding stand to put the tubs on and fill them with water, take the machine with ringers out of the closet, and boil water on the stove for the tubs,” Salciarini recalled.

Most of the food came from the farm, where they raised chickens and grew vegetables in addition to the dairy cows. “The farm was self-sufficient. My grandfather had the most beautiful orchard with all kinds of fruit trees,” Corriveau said. Their mother baked homemade bread for their lunches. Rosina was always a bit jealous of the children with store-bought bread, but as a married woman started baking her bread at home, too.

When it snowed, the girls would be set out to collect “a dish of nice white snow,” which their mother would drizzle with boiled maple syrup. “It made the best candy in the world,” Corriveau said.

A photo of the farm’s silo brought back memories of climbing to the top to sit in the open windows, or sword-fighting on a plank in the barn. They’d explore the so-called “little woods” and pick flowers in the field for their mother. They remember blueberry picking near the meetinghouse and walking in the nearby Ballou cemetery, where Rosina was always spooked by the headstone with her name on it. Alice remembers the stone-crusher near at the quarry, where they blasted for Cumberlandite.

One snowy day, their father took his children on a sleigh ride through the woods as the girls sang carols.

There’s the time Rosina almost drowned in the quarry pond, or the winter the girls fell through the ice while skating.

“We had just received new skates and we were determined to go. We knew if we skated far apart the weight wouldn’t take us down,” Corriveau said, but someone came in a car and they all rushed to the side to see who it could be. “Down we went.”

Of their two horses, Dick and Tom, Dick was more friendly. Rosina once hid in the wrong horse’s stall during a game of hide and seek and was kicked out by an angry Tom.

At night, they’d play baseball in the field or watch the stars overhead.

In the 1940s, their grandfather, Aldege, could no longer keep up with the dairy business. “My grandfather’s men were all being drafted or enlisted into World War II,” Cornille explained. Growing older and without help, he was forced to sell.

The sisters, who moved with their parents to Woonsocket, were devastated to leave their grandfather’s farm. Alice was around 14, Orise 12, Rosina 10 and Germaine 8 or 9. They went to school and to work various jobs.

Their devastation doubled a few years later, when they learned that their beloved farm was lost in a tragic fire.

The exact cause of the fire appears to be disputed, even among the Menard family. There’s a story about the house catching fire because they were burning off the old paint, and another involving an unstuffed cigarette.

“It was a very windy day and we could smell smoke and hear the sirens. We didn’t know it was the farm,” said Salciarini. A series of photos in the album show the aftermath of the fire, which left only a chimney and the silo in its wake. The entire farmhouse, several barns and other outbuildings were reduced to rubble.

Still, it would seem the siblings’ happy memories outweigh the bad ones, even in the end.

“It was the most carefree childhood anyone could ask for,” said Corriveau.

After the fire, the land eventually passed to the Catholic Diocese, with plans for a retreat. The town of Cumberland eventually acquired the property for open space.

The siblings said they’re glad the property has been preserved for future generations. They can still drive by and picture where their beloved home once stood. They pass by often, as their mother and other relatives are buried less than a half-mile up the road.

“We know nothing new will ever be built on that land and that means a lot,” said Dumont. “We can still go back.”

Your comment has been submitted.

There was a problem reporting this.

Keep it Clean. Please avoid obscene, vulgar, lewd, racist or sexually-oriented language. PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR CAPS LOCK. Don't Threaten. Threats of harming another person will not be tolerated. Be Truthful. Don't knowingly lie about anyone or anything. Be Nice. No racism, sexism or any sort of -ism that is degrading to another person. Be Proactive. Use the 'Report' link on each comment to let us know of abusive posts. Share with Us. We'd love to hear eyewitness accounts, the history behind an article.

Success! An email has been sent to with a link to confirm list signup.

Error! There was an error processing your request.

We'll send breaking news and news alerts to you as they happen!

Best trending stories from the week.

Best trending stories from the week.

Best trending stories from the week.

Best trending stories from the week.

Best trending stories from the week.

If you're interested in submitting a Letter to the Editor, click here.