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And that fall when we first moved out to my folk's ranch. I would climb the hills and mountainsides in search of pretty flowers and rocks and just stand on its summit, gazing off into the blue hazy valley below and the grain fields, alfalfa fields and grazing herds. All and I loved its clean, fresh air and mountain scenery.
My Mother loved it, too. City held no charms for her, she seemed happier than I had seen her. With all of the snow and cold, there was satisfaction that one didn't get from city streets, walls and house after house. That ozone gave one an appetite and made you feel good. All so different, so new to us, but we loved all of it, even to the hills that surrounded us. It was almost like being cut off from the outside world.
Each week of February gone made February shorter. It had warmed up again, and the winter snows were melting a little more each day and continued to as the days grew longer.
My sister-in-law and the children kept well and happy with the thought that winter couldn't last forever. Spring would come in time, and with the arrival of spring, her husband would be returning from his journey to Portland, along with his father.
They had written that plans had been made for getting Jim's lumber, and they would have the freight car to arrive at Rupert about the first of April.
"Well," Jim said in his last letter, "that would be odd, for he arrived in Rupert for the first time on April 1, 1911" and found it a place with a future, a place he said was wonderful to live in. He loved too the hills on Shirley reek where our home would be even more so and the air worth paying for to breath. Each deep breath seemed to affect one clear to his toes. Of such was life in this new country of Southern Idaho.
And, as my sister in law had said. winter couldn't last forever, so February slipped into the past as had September, October, November, December, and January along with the rest. But each month, as it went by, gave us something that could be remembered through a lifetime. For instance, the momentary cry of the coyote in the wee hours of morn, his stealthily sneaking way of getting his food to satisfy his hunger. Nature seemed to endow him with this instinct as a way of livelihood.
The little creek winding its way, flowing down the bed made by nature, flowed on indefinitely to its end. And Jim asking me the most important question of his and my life by this same little stream. And the day he brought me the diamond he picked for the "nicest girl in the world" he had said as he placed it on my finger, which indicated a lifetime of happiness. Mother riding with Father out of the hills on a load of poles, their smiles to be remembered forever.
Father with his broken foot and cherry tree crutches. The bouquet Jim handed me the morning of my twentieth birthday. We girls, first box social. It was all so interesting to us, as was all the numerous things we witnessed and experienced.
March was next in line. It came in like a lion with winds. Seldom had there been such ones. But Spring was on its way and destined to come to this little valley as well as the rest of Idaho. The winds kept up through the day and night, melting the snow into rivulets every where. This kept up for several days. Then the temperature lowered in the night, and all the little rivulets were frozen. The wind finally subsided, the sun shone brightly, and this the real March had arrived and Winter was giving way to Spring.
Days and nights of winds and storms and winter's loneliness would soon be on its way out, for in a few weeks now, Father and brother would be home, wrote they were on their last house of the several they had built. My sister-in-law was so happy she cried, for she was quite a ways along now and not feeling too well. She cried easily though.
My Mother said to her one day, "Ida, I thing you are going to have twins the way you have been showing up lately." "oh Mom," she said, " don't say that . One is enough" and laughed a half-hearted laugh. Then she and the two children started back up the path to their home.
I added wood to the front room stove. The fire had died down, and the room was a bit chilly. My sister sat reading, as was her custom. Mother came in with an armful of wood, for the wood box by the kitchen range.
No one was looking for or thinking about Jim when I heard a "ho". Looking from the window, there he was, with his team and wagon, I dashed out as usual. He said, "I brought that load of posts I told you about and unloaded them on our ranch."
"Fine," I replied, "that's a starter." "The next trip," he said, "I'll bring more post and also wire. It just might be I'll move out and board with your folks."
Mother came out about that time, saying, "Jim, you must be cold and hungry, I'm just fixing supper." "Thanks, Mother," he said, "soon as I feed the horses."
We went to the house, hand in hand, Jim's face was red with could. He washed up and then went into the front room to warm up. My sister went to get a bucket of water to fill the teakettle. Then helped put the supper on the table while Jim and I stood talking by the warm quaken aspen open fire that kept crackling and popping as it merrily burned, throwing warmth into the room.
Jim always enjoyed Mother's good meals, and when it was over, we gathered in the front room to talk and make plans for the days ahead. I heard him say to Mother, "I have sent the money for the carload of lumber to Father in Portland." Mother nodded, smiling and saying, "that's just fine."
Jim was up early the next morning saying he wanted to start to line out and set some corner posts. I did not go with him. The ground was damp and somewhat chilly. Mother and Jim were afraid I would catch cold. Mother gave him a lunch, so he worked at this until toward evening. Upon returning. he fed and took care of his and father's horses. By that time, Mother had supper ready. We all enjoyed this good meal, as usual.
Then we went to the front room for the evening, and here we had a song fest. Mother hoined in with us, something she seldom did. About that time, my sister-in-law and two children came in, spending the time along with us until a late hour, when Jim and I walked them back up to their home. "Well, it won't be long now until Harry will be here," Jim said, "I hope so, " she replied. "But the weeks seem to drag by for me." "That's true," I commented, especially if one's loved one or one who is a part of you is away. We went in, sat a while, and Jim put wood in the fire and brought ina a couple of arm fulls for the next morning.
Then he would be up and on his way across the fifty mile drag in a wagon. He wanted to bring one more load before the car of lumber arrived. And this he did , four days later, he was bac again, bringing with him more posts, wire and other things he would need, and a fairly good size load of baled hay on top. I could see it all coming, but did not know what was attached to the end until he came closer. Beauty all hitched to the buggy and being led behind! I ran out to meet him. He stopped. "Untie her," he said. "get in and drive to the house." I needed no coaxing. He called when I drove by. "she's yours, but you'll have to take care of her." "I'll sure do that, " I said driving on up to where I would unhitch. That was fun , for I had always loved horses.
Unhitching her from the buggy, I brushed and rubbed her down and put the blanket on, then walked her up and down to cool her off a bit. as I had seen Jim do before, then taking her to SHirley Creek for a cold drink. And into the barn with a manger of hay. I was so excited and intent on what I was doing that I did not notice what Jim was doing or that my mother wans sister were watching with smiles on their faces. That was the first horse I had had since leaving our home near Norfolk, Virginia.
"I think she's in good hands, " Mother nodded, smiling at Jim.
"Well, I wanted her to have Beauty, for I'll be busy from next week on freighting the lumber for our house." "That's right" Mother commented. "and Father and Harry will be home then."
We walked on to the house, and Jim said, "there's something I'be been planning on asking you." "Whatever it is." Mother said, "I think it will be okay."
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