Landmark Roses

by Nancy M Bell

She shook her head and patted his arm. “Just enjoying the morning. It’s such a lovely day.”

  There was already a line of other horse and buggies outside the church along with a scattering of automobiles parked haphazardly anyplace they could find space. Ike brought the buggy to a halt, set the brake and stepped down. He tied the horse’s lead to bracket in an open space on the hitching rail in the shade of a spreading tree. Elsie took his hand and disembarked the buggy, careful of her dress on the dusty wheel.

  Together the couple joined the others entering the building, the white paint gleaming in the sun. Elsie nodded to acquaintances and scanned the gathering for her extended family. In such a small community it was impossible not to know everyone present and a hum of conversation buzzed around her. The men were handsome in their Sunday best and the women’s bright dresses fluttered like brilliant butterflies as they moved toward the open doors.

  Elsie blinked in the sudden dimness of the small area just inside the porch. She shook her head when Ike glanced down inquiringly at her. Satisfied she was fine, he led her into the nave and waited for her to precede him into the pew with the female members of her family. Ike carried on to where his sons Ed, Jake, and Hank and the young men of the family were already seated. Elsie settled herself beside Agnes and glanced over at her daughters and granddaughters. She smiled to see Agnes, Susan and Helena had separated the boys young enough to still sit with the women. Sarah hadn’t arrived yet. Elsie frowned and turned to ask Agnes if she knew where her sister was. A stir at the back of the church distracted her and she turned to see Sarah entering leaning on her husband’s arm. She smiled as she joined the rest of the women in the pew. Elsie kept her expression carefully schooled, but noted the pallor of her daughter’s face and the faint sheen of perspiration on her brow. The building was warm and a bit stuffy, but she didn’t think it could account for Sarah’s pale face.

  Perhaps it was just the pregnancy that was making the girl feel poorly. Elsie sent a silent prayer heavenward that it wasn’t the malaria rearing its ugly head. Not again, she prayed. Not when the dear child was carrying again.

  The pastor began the service and Elsie gave her full attention to the matter. The Vorsängers were in fine form, the choristers leading the congregation in responsive singing. They sat at the front of the church on the left side of the raised platform where they called out the number of the songs so the congregation could find the selection in their Gesangbuch.

  Elsie joined her voice with the others at the appropriate times, giving herself over to the oneness of community the combined voices invoked. With all present singing mindfully and in the moment, offering the music to God with heartfelt love and praise, Elsie knew she was more than just one person. She was part of the soul of the congregation enraptured by the strength of their combined voices and purpose, praising and following the glory of the Almighty.

  “I was so helpless, full of sin, nothing good in myself I find,” she sang.

  Somehow the hour long service always seemed to short, but Elsie never emerged from the church without feeling renewed and invigorated. Truly the love of God was a pure and powerful thing which she welcomed with all her heart.

  Elsie rose with the rest of the congregation at the conclusion of the service and tucked her Gesangbuch into her purse. She joined the press of people crowding the aisle and heading for the door. Brilliant sunlight spilled into the small porch nearly blinding Elsie as she stepped from the shadowy interior of the building. Careful of where she put her feet until her eyes adjusted to the change in light, she descended the shallow steps. Her gaze raked the milling crowd for Sarah and Arnold, but she failed to see them.

  “Come along, Elsie. Everyone will be at the house later. There’ll be time to visit with the family then.” Ike joined her and took her arm, heading toward the shade where Polly waited patiently.

  By the time they arrived back at the farm, the sun was high in the sky and the temperature had soared from its earlier mildness. Even in September the air was humid and mosquitoes buzzed and hovered around Elsie’s ears. She slapped at one and grimaced.

  “I’m not looking forward to winter, but I will be glad when the weather cools enough for us to be rid of the biting insects,” she remarked.

  “The stock will be glad of the cooler weather too, but we must be thankful for the dry weather to get in the last of the barley.” Ike halted the buggy by the front porch. He got down and came around to assist his wife.

  She nodded her thanks and hesitated on the top step to watch him lead the horse across the yard. He was still a fine figure of man, she thought before going inside to freshen up before the rest of the family arrived.

  Her fingers were busy adjusting the collar of her dress when the sound of voices drew her to the window. Below in the yard her sons and daughters were arriving with their families. Smiling, she turned from the happy scene and went lightly down the stairs. All the preparations for light noon repast and the faspa to follow later had been done the day before. There was nothing to do but set it out and enjoy having her family around her while they shared the meal.

  After the general confusion of arrivals, everyone gathered in the dining room. Elsie glanced around the table at the bright smiling faces. How things had changed since they were young. At times it amazed her that these handsome and beautiful people had come from her union with Ike. She thanked the Lord for her good fortune and the abundance of her grandchildren.

  When everyone was full Ike stood and offered the traditional blessing. ‘Gesegnete Mahlzeit,’ which signified the end of the meal. The children left the table and dashed outside to play in the warm September sunshine. After the dishes were cleared, Elsie found time to draw Sarah aside.

  “Are you well, Sarah? I missed speaking with you at church.” She studied her daughter’s face.

  “I’m fine, Mome. Everything’s just fine. I saw the doctor this week, you know that already. He said things are progressing as they should and I wasn’t to worry. So I won’t”

  If Elsie thought the younger woman’s smile was slightly forced, she forbade to mention it. “That’s good then. You run along and find Arnold. Mind you seek out a nice spot for a bit of a nap.” She patted her daughter’s arm and watched her step onto the front porch. God willing, all would go well for her and the baby.

  Chapter Two

  Schweene Schlachte

  “I’m going out to the barn now, Elsie.” Ike pushed back from the kitchen table and took his hat from the hook by the door. “I expect the boys will be showing up soon. I want to get the hogs separated and into the pen.”

  “Be careful, Ike. Let the boys do the heavy work.” She flicked crumbs off the gaily printed oil cloth table covering after removing the coffee mugs to the counter by the sink.

  “You do the same. Let the young ones do the scraping and carrying.” He shrugged into a jacket against the chill of the late September morning. The eastern sky was pearl gray with pre-dawn light, frost coated the boards of the porch when he opened the door and stepped out.

  Elsie drew her hand knit sweater closer around her shoulders at the cool air sweeping across the kitchen. She stoked the big cook stove with more wood in preparation for the huge breakfast that would be needed once everyone arrived. In addition to their own children and their families, Ike had invited two other couples. Sarah and Arnold wouldn’t come until later. Elsie frowned. Poor Sarah was ill again with the malaria. A reminder of their time in Paraguay. Sarah was just a baby when they left the South American country after having moved there in the late 1920s, but not before she’d fallen victim to the mosquito carried disease. Elsie shook her head, she knew Sarah didn’t look well after church last week, but the girl had insisted she was fine. Please, don’t let her pregnancy end badly again. Elsie paused to say a fervent prayer and immediately asked God’s forgiveness for the thought. Life and death were in His hands. Sarah and Arnold had already lost two babies due to Sarah having a relapse of the malaria while pregnant. Elsie shook her head
and worried her bottom lip. How much could a body bear, she wondered. How many babies lost or still born before something died in a woman’s heart?

  “We can only hope for the best. It’s in God’s hands,” she whispered to the silent room, hands busy filling the big kettle with water. She was surprised there wasn’t a skim of ice on the top. She also filled the big cauldron reservoir on the side of the stove. It was handy to have the water warm all the time. Setting the kettle to boil, she went to check her supply of simples to be sure there was still Jesuit bark and Artemisia leaves. The nearest doctor was a fine man, but Elsie still put faith in the cures of the old woman in the Chaco area of Paraguay. The Mennonite community of Menno was established there in 1926-27. In exchange for religious freedom, exemption from military service, the right to speak German in schools and elsewhere, along with the right to administer their own education, medical, social and financial institutions, the Mennonites agreed to colonize the Chaco area which was at that time inhospitable and unproductive. The Paraguayan congress passed a law in 1921 which allowed the colonists to create a state within the state of Boqueron.

  The Mennonite reputation of excellent farmers, hard workers and discipline made them perfect candidates to populate the area of western Paraguay and keep Bolivia from encroaching on the area.

  Elsie and Ike, along with many others made the long arduous trek only to find themselves confronted with thorn forests, ponds and marshes. The area was hot and arid, but also prone to floods during the rainy season. The few thousand Mennonites hacked a community out of the wilderness. But not without loss of life to typhoid, which wiped out a good number of the colonists, snakes, and accidents incurred while clearing land and building shelter. Eventually, farms were established and the community thrived. Some enterprising soul even started a newspaper, the Mennoblatt, which to Elsie’s knowledge was still a viable enterprise.

  Her hand hovered over the jar of Artemisia leaves.

  There had been good times in Menno, but the religious leaders were far stricter than the ones they left behind in Manitoba and Elsie had sometimes chaffed under the restrictions placed upon the women. In the end it was the death of the three babies, two from typhoid and one from some undiagnosed fever that had convinced Ike to bring his family back to Canada.

  Satisfied there were enough leaves in the jar, Elsie returned to the kitchen. It was going to be a long day, but many hands made light work and the joy of the family gathering together brought a warm glow to her heart.

  * * *

  Sarah arrived with Arnold shortly after Hank and Frieda, coming through the door with bowl of potato salad in her arms.

  “I’m fine, Mother,” Sarah said before Elsie could speak. “It’s just the baby, that’s all.”

  “Even so, no heavy work for you. What does the doctor have to say about the malaria flare up?” Elsie took the heavy bowl from her daughter.

  “He says to hope for the best, Mome. And pray.” Sarah caught and held her mother’s gaze. “It will be alright this time. I’m sure of it. I’ve been praying hard, and so has Arnold.”

  “I’ve prayed as well, Sarah. Why don’t you set yourself down on the sofa and help watch the little ones. The older girls are fine with the toddlers, but I’d feel better if someone more responsible kept an eye on the babies.”

  “Sure, Mome.” Sarah put a hand to her lower back and sank into one of the easy chairs, resting her feet on the ottoman. “Happy?” She smiled at her mother.

  Elsie nodded and took the salad into the kitchen.

  Not long after the children and babies were set up in the living room with Sarah and some of the older children to watch them, the men brought the first load of ‘insides’ from the hogs into the summer kitchen. A few late flies buzzed over the piles of intestines that would soon be sausage casings. Elsie pushed her sleeves up and moved a length of intestines from the pile. It was still partially filled with the animal’s last feed. Beside her, Nettie and Susan were likewise engaged. Flushing the partially digested contents into a galvanized pail was tedious and hard work. All the material needed to be removed before the casing could be immersed in a huge vat of salted water. There they sat for several hours, during which time the women set about rendering the schmalz — the lard — and preparing the yvreve — the crackles. The yvreve and the ripspeer — the spare ribs — were put in a big cauldron and roasted until they were crisp. Once the spare ribs were cooked they came out of the cauldron and went into a pan where they were sprinkled with salt. The remaining lard was poured into large dish pans to cool and then placed in stone jugs for storage. The yvreve were especially tasty treats and Elsie grinned secretly when she caught her grown daughters sneaking bits from the pan of finished crackles, just as they had as young girls.

  By lunch time the men had scraped the ears, feet, knees and head of meat. Once the lard was removed from the cauldron these pieces were thrown in and set to cooking.

  Work paused momentarily while empty stomachs were filled and thirst assuaged. The lunch was prepared the day before and roasted with bobatt —stuffing. They set out plumeoos, faspa with buns, salt and yevreschmalz, this was the yrevre that came through the strainer in the schmalz jam. Coffee and tea was supplied in copious quantities.

  By the time the lunch things were cleared away, the intestines were ready to be turned inside out and scraped. Elsie’s shoulders ached and her fingers cramped by the time her portion of the task was finished.

  Once the casings were cleaned and turned right-side out they were dredged in salt and put in a pan waiting for the sausage filling. The formaworscht —farmer sausage — was stuffed with ground meat and spices and taken to the smoke house to be hung. The levaworscht — liverwurst — was prepared a bit differently. One part liver was added to four parts meat trimmings, some neck meat and a bit of rind. Once ground, this was stuffed into the larger casing, when the casing was sufficiently full, the skin was pricked with a darning needle to keep it from bursting while the sausage was boiled in a huge cauldron.

  Elsie and Frieda moved on to making the head cheese. They took the ground meat from the head along with some rind and salt and pepper. This was put in a cloth sack and flattened into the bottom of a flat pan. Elsie placed a board on top of the cloth sack and waited for Frieda to set a heavy crock of crackles on top. Left overnight it would squeeze out any excess fat. The older woman straightened up and wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist. Tomorrow the head cheese, feet, ears, heart and tongue would be covered with whey and stored in another stoneware jar.

  Next she turned her attention to the side bacon — siedefleisch. It took some muscle to roll up the outer skin of the pig and tie it with binder twine. The older boys carried the sides to the smoke house to be cured along with farmer sausage. The big schinkjes — the hams — went into containers packed with salt to be cured. Once the weather turned colder the hams would be frozen in the uninsulated summer kitchen. The building served as a freezer and store house in the cold winter months. In spring the thawed meat would go into the smoke house to be smoked.

  It pleased Elsie that no part of the pig went to waste. She set some of the pork hocks, legs and feet of the pigs aside to share with poorer members of the community. The rest would be boiled and pickled in varick — whey. Ears and tails were scraped and pickled the same way. Liver left over from the liverwurst was set on the counter to be fried for the evening meal.

  By the end of the day everyone was exhausted but in a good way. A satisfied glow of comfort warmed Elsie’s heart and eased the ache of tired muscles. There was a certain feeling of completion and connection with those who had gone before, keeping true to the traditional ways was a comfort to her soul. She thought of it as a bridge between the present and the past. A tribute in a way to the families who fled their home countries to avoid persecution but who brought their heritage with them.

  She looked about the summer kitchen where everything was now neat and tidy. The hunger that could lurk in the long winter months ahead w
ould be held at bay by the food put away after a long day of hard work. Along with the jars of preserves she and her daughters put up during the warm summer months and early fall, the abundance of food was a blessing. One she never forgot to thank God for.

  No one in her family would go hungry if Elsie had anything to say about it.

  Chapter Three

  Bringing in the Sheaves

  Elsie motioned the young girl from Bothwell she’d hired to help with meals for the harvesters to join the other girl already in the kitchen. What with the men come to help with harvesting the fields of wheat and barley, there was no way Elsie could manage on her own. Her girls were busy at their own places helping their men bring in their own crops. True, there was Agnes and Walter here, but many more hands were needed to ensure the crops were taken in before the frost could blight them.

  “Take the coffee off the heat before it boils,” Elsie cautioned Liz, the Bothwell girl.

  “Yes, sorry.” She flicked her long red braid of hair over her shoulder before moving the pot off the heat.

  “The ham is in the icebox, Grace. Knives are in the drawer there. Start slicing the meat for sandwiches, if you would,” Elsie directed the shorter of the two girls.

  Grace’s long blond hair was caught up in loose knot at the back of her neck. She hurried to do Elsie’s bidding the strings of her apron swinging against her skirts.

  The shouts of the harvesting crew carried on the still morning air where they gathered in the yard. Elsie glanced out the window and was surprised to see Sarah’s husband Arnold among the men. She squinted against the slanting sunlight. Ike put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and shook his head. A knot twisted her stomach. Something was not right, not right at all. Arnold should be at home taking care of his own harvest, not standing here in the yard.