The Village Smithy

I remember a verse from childhood that it turns out was a poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow called "The Village Blacksmith." The first part of which is:

"Under a spreading chestnut tree, the village smithy stands;

The smith, a mighty man is he,

With large and sinewy hands;

And the muscles in his brawny arms

Are strong as iron bands."

In Piopio the old blacksmith forge and the smithy's cottage have been preserved as part of a simple country museum open to the public. John remembers as a child taking spades, axes and horse shoes to Bill Glascow, the blacksmith in Piopio village, to be repaired or made. He always wore a black singlet, and seemed very imposing and strong with his red hot forge.

This past weekend we stopped in so I could photograph the old anvil and forge:

 

There was also a board of different horse shoes on the wall, which must have been used as samples:

 

Thinking it might be nice to have a resurgence of this skill.

 

 

Comments

[Marilyn]

It's fun to watch my sister's horses get their shoes put on. I don't think it is something that can be mechanized. But what do I know? In fact, I met a young man recently, who said he was going into the trade. He was from Drury.