A paper written by Fran Currie on Nov. 5, 1999, My Memories of Homestead Farm and Mung & Lillian Nodwell.  Homestead Farm was a magical place in my childhood.  We played hospital in the big closets in the bedrooms - the side shelves made wonderful beds.  We played house in the hen houses when they were empty.  We jumped off the beams of the barn into the hay.  We rode horses around the fiel.  We skated on the frozen creek that ran through the field.  We jumped from boulder to boulder down the backlane stone fence.  Lillian would usually be the first person I would see as I cut across the field to the laneway.  She would be coming out the milk house door, or from the garden, or out the back door of the house or on her way out the back lane.  She was such a gentle person and had such an enthusiasm for life.  Always she would make you feel, she was really glad to see you.  Then she would share with you a recent discovery that she had made and send you on your way to whatever sctivity was going on.  There was always something going on, usually Lillian initiated.

Lillian was a wonderful cook.  Her speciality was pie.  My favourite was elderberry.  It was alwsays made with no lower crust in a big rectangular roasting pan.  Nothing was made on a small scale at Nodwell's because you never knew how many were going to be there.  People never seemed to want to go home when they went to Homestead Farm.

I have many happy memories of times in the main living room.  Lillian would be in and out.  She might be doing some painting.  She would stop on her way through and suggest a game.  People would gather round a table.  next time though there might be a need for another table full.  Mung would be sitting in the corner, smiling and watching it all.  At some point she would start to cook.  A bit of help was needed here and there and people would move in and out.  There was never any sense of urgency.  You enjoyed what you were doing.  Food came and you ate some, and went on with the game.  More food came.  The games went on.  The dish brigade swung into action.  It was so much fun.  

Sunday afternoons were picnic times.  A small cooking fire was made in the field down near the pines.  Lillian would get the coffee going in a tin pail.  It was always served with tinned evaporated milk.  While it was coming to a boil, Lillian would go looking for puff ball, if it was the right time of year.  she taught me my first lessons in conservation.  She had a great respect and love for nature.  You only took what you could use.  Other Sundays we would pile in the car and go up to the Grand River near Grand Valley.  Again there would be the fire with the tin pail for the coffee.  Mung would have his Sunday snooze and we would go exploring the riverbed.  At maple syrup time, the picnic would be down at the bush.  She would put eggs into the boiling sap to hard boil them and then we would have bread and maple syrup cooled in a snow bank.

When conditions were just right, we used to skate at night on the upper pond.  There was a big tree stump out in the middle that was a gathering place.  One skate round there would be nothing there.  The next skate round, and we would discover a big platter of Newport fluffs, drizzled with maple syrup and made into balls.  Lillian had been there.

Parties at Homestead Farm were on a grand scale.  The whole community was invited and came.  It was an awe inspiring sight.  every room in the whouse would be given over to various card games.  I can remember as a child wandering from room to room watching the people.  One bedroom would be set up for euchre, another bedroom would be for bridge, the kids usually gathered in what was called the library just off the kitchen.  Lillian would be organizing food, and flitting here and there making sure every one was being looked after.

Yes, Homestead Farm was a magical place.  It got that magic from two very special people - Mung and Lillian Nodwell.

A picture of her tomb stone is on file.

Her obiturary reads NODWELL, Lilian E. (nee Ferguson) - Born August 1902, died October 20, 1999.  Wife of the late Mungo Nodwell of Homestead Farm, Hillsburgh.  Mother of Mary Buckles, Kathleen (Pat) Schulze, Nina Nodwell and LInda Wright.  A memorial service will be held at St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church, Hillsburgh on Friday, November 5, 1999 at 2 p.m..  In lieu of flowers, please donate to EWAG, Box 786,Erin,  N0B 1T0.

There was a tribute to Lilian by Pauline Spence
When I learned on Friday of Mrs. Nodwell's death last week, I thought back to my childhood of how big a part she played in it.  When I remember her, it will always be summer, with the breezes whistling through the old pines and the smell of freshly baked pies in the air.   During haying season, most of the kids in town were at Nodwell's, riding back and forth on the wagons.  Lillian never seemed to mind if there were an extra dozen or so children underfoot, even though she must have tired of making pitcher after pitcher of the best lemonade we had ever tasted.  Mrs. Nodwell was also an accomplished painter, and taught me a love of art.  She painted portraits of some of us, and I will never forget the time she had stripped the walls of the hall down to the bare plaster and gave paints, crayons and pastels to about ten kids and told us to paint the walls.  We thought we were in heaven!  She showed us how to find Indian arrowhead, how to hunt for fossils, how to make maple syrup, and so much more.  I think she was the most brilliant person, and personality I have ever known.  Some people might say she marched to the beat of a different drummer, but I think she walked to the song in her heart.  Thank you so much, Mrs. Nodwell.

Globe and Mail 29-10-99
NODWELL, Lilian (nee Ferguson)

NODWELL, Lilian (nee Ferguson) Died October 20, 1999. Wife of the late Mungo Nodwell of Homestead Farm, Hillsburgh. Leaves daughters, Mary Buckles, Pat Schulze, Nina Nodwell, Linda Wright; ten grandchildren and twelve greatgrandchildren. Memorial service Friday, November 5, at 2 p.m., at St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church, Hillsburgh. Donations may be made to E.W.A.G., Box 786, Erin N0B 1T0.