In the fifties, light pollution wasn't even a thing. For a few years, our electricity was provided by a windmill hooked to a series of glass batteries that were stored behind the porch. There was enough power to have electric lights. Off-grid, eh? Then electricity came to the district. My Dad might have declined it because of the expense but everyone on the line had to sign up or it was a no go.
When the sun went down, it was dark. Once we got the power we could have a yard light so that going out after sunset didn't put us in danger of wandering off into the wilderness. Eventually, the bulb in the yard light burned out. You can see changing it was going to be a problem. My Dad had his trusty farmhand but someone had to ride up on the lift to change the bulb. It was not going to be Mom. I stood near the back of the lift and with Dad at the controls, was raised
high enough to screw the old bulb out and the new one in. Again, no helmet, parachute, or special shoes to grip the farmhand. The whole operation lasted, maybe, 10 minutes. I wasn't traumatized and am not afraid of heights. I enjoyed being trusted to do this little job.
Maybe there was something about me and being lowered and raised to perform small tasks. I went to a one room country school and I don't recall any policy about cut-off temperatures for going outside. We went outside and when we came in, our mitts were covered with a snow-ice combination. We would place them around the grate that covered the furnace vent. For some reason, it was a couple of feet high and about two feet on each side. The grate had been bent away from the vent's walls and the mittens would fall into the gap and down toward a metal platform. (Not a fiery inferno.) Every so often, the grate was lifted and I was lowered into the vent to collect the mitts. They were a fire hazard and in the day, you didn't just buy new mitts. Kids (and adults) were expected to look after their things.
When I think about it, my parents, my teacher, and other neighbours would likely be reported for endangering their children. We survived to face much more dangerous situations.
I've been married a long time and often write about everyday events.