pages 254-255

Pages 254-255

                That old ground squirrel had seen his shadow and we still had some weeks to go before the predicted six weeks would be up.  Shirley Creek rippled and splashed merrily as it flowed along in the canyon below our house as though by its murmur it too wished for spring.  The warm sunny rays had brought out a round of cheery notes from the birds, swaying from the bushes down along the creek.  The saucy hated magpie was doing his best to evoke attention from his lofty perch.  The little ground squirrels came out to see what it was all about, give a chatter or two, then slip quickly back into their well made homes.  A rabbit hopped out of the brush, then dashed up over the side of a hill and out of sight.  The horses squealed, kicked up their heels and ran from one end of our valley to the other.  The warm rays of the sun had had its effect on them too.  Watching all of this would put spring in any ones bones even though it wasn’t spring.

                The sun rose higher and higher, when a white fluffy cloud seemed to mar its face.  Jim called them thunder heads as one after another drifted by.  The sun’s warmth deteriorated a bit from having its face clouded so often causing dark carpets of shadows on the ground.

                Getting a bit of spring ahead of time made one wish harder for spring.  We were destined for more storms and cold though so we would enjoy this now, staying out of doors most of the day, planning this and that where we would have our garden and plant the seeds we had bought so many weeks before and kept in view to remind us as each day went by.  They dragged terribly.  Nice days were wonderful, the bad ones unendurable.  We took each and made something out of it as they came and went.

                That afternoon Jim worked on fences again so I went along for the walk.  We would not be far from the house only putting in extra posts on our west line.  Some would put enough post to get the wire strung up and then add extra ones later.  Fencing a three hundred and twenty was quite a little job, but getting this done ahead of spring plowing was the thing to do.  He had the posts already strung out, so Jim carried the shovel and staples and I the hammer.

                Our east line was fenced when we got our place by our neighbor who had taken up his claim several years before we did, they having come by covered wagon from the Midwest to this country.  They were good neighbors.  He told Jim to just set a big corner post with braces next to his corner post and start fencing from that and together they would keep up the middle fence in the way of repairs or post.  So that made it nice for us.

                When another family took up a place below us, we did the same with them.  These people homesteaded the place on the northwest of us with the spring on it where Jim hauled water from to fill our cistern and being poor people, charged so much a barrel for all water hauled from it.  They did not charge us though because Jim had been nice in hauling things and helping them with their fences, besides letting them use our west line fence as our neighbor east of us had done, but there were people on homesteads in the flats who had not water or money for putting down wells.  This struck them pretty hard. But it was like they said when they helped themselves, they always left your gate open, and when they paid, you reminded them to shut the gate.

                We had it figured they were just “squatters,” only there long enough to prove up on and sell for whatever they could get.  This was proved by the fact that they did nothing whatever in the way of cleaning off the sagebrush or improving the land and only fenced what they had to and Jim and I were just waiting for that time to elapse, which would be the required number of months to make them and offer.

                Right now we were plenty busy with what we had and as Jim would dig and put the post in the hole, I would put in a little dirt then he would use his shovel handle to pack it around the bottom of the post.  He said one seldom had trouble with a post that was tamped well, right at the start or bottom.  This was kept up until all the dirt was used and packed solid and rounded up around the post.  ”A nice job,” he’d say when done and found it solid when trying to wiggle it.  We continued until the number of posts needed were all in and stapled tight.  And taking time out to look, to see the sun was fast leaving us, turning again as we started for the house found the sky quite red like settling in a lake of fire.  Jim said,  “It’ll be windy tomorrow.”  And another day had slipped away, along with all the others since that night about twelve midnight when we entered the door of our home for the first time as man and wife to make a home and to wrest a living from this land of hills rocks and sagebrush.

                Jim did chores while I fixed the evening meal, somewhat tired, but feeling like a queen and in no time it seemed I was calling Jim to supper.  “Boy,” he said, “you work fast.”  “yes” I said, “leftovers baked beans, rice pudding, cold meat, bread and butter and canned rhubarb.”

                Later that evening I talked with Jim of the people without water He said, “they can go together and haul from Raft River or get water from friends who have wells.”  “Raft River – that wouldn’t be fit for culinary use --only Livestock,”  I ventured.  He replied, “they could boil it and that would render it fit for household use and could be done in that manner until they could do better.”  “I suppose,”  I said. And went on with what I had started , that of copying recipes I liked from papers and magazines in my little recipe book.  Jim’s relatives had gotten up for me, each of the relatives wrote from two to three of their favorites, signing their name to each.  A clever idea and some of them proved to be excellent so I added to them, those I thought worthwhile.  I stayed with this while Jim read, until the hands of the clock proved it to us it was bedtime.