pages 292-293

Pages 292-293

                I walked among the rows, admiring the growing plants, clogging my shoes with mud. Then Jim said, “You are ruining your garden.”  Next, I went to see how my little chicks were doing, the dampness hadn’t been so good for them, several of them looked a bit droopy. But, the warm sunshine would soon correct that, both mother hens were taking the best of care of their brood.  Then back to the house for there was little else one could do that day, sitting ourselves down to reading and writing, took most of the day, until Jim decided he had harnesses that needed mending, so while he worked at his task, I set about to do more sewing, I wanted to have everything ready and waiting, for Doc had said he had even helped to make clothes for them, or at least the first outfit, he said, and there were times when they would miscount, only having one thing to wrap them in.  That wouldn’t happen to me though for I had practically everything made. 

                That night our coyote friend felt the need for more voice training so crooned to us by a hazy moon on a distant hill in such a strange fantastic way.  He yapped and yapped, almost putting us to sleep, awakening us at daylight with much of the same until either we forgot to listen or he ceased for the day.  Out into the fresh morning air I went, and what should fall on my ears but the soft cooing murmurs of the mourning dove.  I could hardly believe what I heard for we seldom heard them.  I hoped he would remain to send out his love notes at dawn and dusk just for me.  Where had he come from I wondered.  Had he come from the wild chokecherry orchard up to my folks?  They cooed so softly and sweetly there at morn and twilight, especially after a rainy spell.  Here I stood wrapped in my thoughts listening to the sweet love notes, then reminiscing, thought how wonderful was this quiet retreat, away from the overtrodden busy city streets, here one could think his thoughts and live his life in this mysterious world of nature, an inestimable privilege it is to live among this, so close to God’s gigantic wealth of nature, that I might have a part in or enjoy at will.

                Turning, I retraced my steps, taking several deep breaths of the pure ozone laden air, found myself busy in my own kitchen with pots and pans, fixing the first meal of the day – breakfast – it should be an appetizing one – or something that whets the appetite and gives one a lift for the day and work ahead, thus I buttered the toast, placed it in the oven, next the whole ground wheat mush, lastly the eggs and bacon and coffee – quite frequently though, we had Postum and pancakes or french toast.  I barely had the table set when Jim came in from his chores stopping in the door said, “Well, I think I know where Babe and Jackie are.”

“How come?” I asked.

“Didn’t you see that fellow ride away?”

“No, “ I answered.

“Well, you must have been busy for we have been talking for some time.”

                “Oh”, I returned, “how did he find out, by telephone?”

                “No,” he answered, “through the grapevine.”  That meant from mouth to mouth or person to person.  We had very few telephones, but the grapevine almost had it beat at times.  He said a fellow told him that another fellow, told him that he heard through another fellow that a fellow over on Coe Creek, clear across the valley west on a ranch up the mountainside, had a mare and mule in his corral answering the description of Babe and Jackie.”

                “Well,” I said, “that is quite a distance to go, if you are not sure,”

                Jim answered by saying, “I believe the fellow knows what he is talking about, so we’ll go take a look anyway,”
                Knowing we would have to have a little something extra for a lunch for the trip, after dinner I began to look through the cupboards.  Finding part of a package of raisins, I stood thus after my find wondering just how I would use them.  Thumbing through the cookbook, stopped short when  a headline said. “Filled cookies.”  As I read each line it became more intriguing.  “This is it,”  thinking to myself, so taking the bowl from the top shelf and the stirring spoon from the drawer, I was soon in the midst of making the dough, then the filling, to my delight they turned out wonderful from the oven.  I’d surprise Jim when we ate our lunch on the road tomorrow with these tasty tidbits, as I baked batch after batch until the house was filled with the delightful aroma and the last batch cooling, I began storing the first into the cookie jar, then busied myself with grinding some leftover chicken for sandwiches, this all finished and safely put away, I set about to plan our evening meal.  After having our lunch planned for tomorrow, taking a left-over batch of potatoes, soon had them into plump potato cakes, frying in the pan, and other things in turn, slicing the meat to fry etc,  having it all ready when Jim came in.

                Pulling the chairs back we sat down after Jim had washed and dried his face and hands.  “Well,” he said, “I am a bit tired, you’d be surprised at the sage you find after the harrowing.  I’ll do the burning some evening.” He said as we filled our plates, “But, tomorrow, we’ll go for those runaways, I’ll give them plenty to do when I get them back.”  Rising from the table after the meal was over, Jim went into the living room to relax and read, while I cleaned away the table and put things up, joining him there later, we did not set up too late because of the planned trip.

                As I drifted off to sleep, my mind went wandering off through the planned possibilities of that expedition, from one side of the mountain to the other, with that wide valley or flats in between and somehow the wandering and a dream became entangled then waking suddenly when my dreams left me stranded in the wide open spaces alone, with wild creatures of all descriptions.  Finding light sifting through our windows, I knew day was breaking, but I lay