Landmark Roses

by Nancy M Bell

  * * *

  Thursday January 30th, 1947 dawned cold and overcast. The clouds were so low they seemed to touch the fields themselves, and the trees and shrubs shrank into themselves away from the touch. Ike and Walter came in from morning chores with cheeks chapped red from the wind. Elsie’s husband knocked the smattering of snowflakes from his cap before hanging it up. Agnes shrieked with laughter when Walter kissed her cheek and rubbed his cold nose against her warm skin.

  “Looks like a storm is brewing,” Ike remarked settling at his place at the table and wrapping work worn hands around the large mug of coffee Elsie placed before him.

  “Go on with you.” Agnes swiped playfully at Walter with a dish towel.

  He offered her an unrepentant grin and went to hang his coat up in the mud room. By the time he returned, Agnes was setting plates filled with bacon, waffles and vanilla sauce, black pudding and sausage on the table. Elsie added a platter of toast, and another with fried eggs on it. The waffles were a favorite of the young ones and they’d soon be coming in for their share.

  “Do you think it will really storm?” Agnes glanced out the window at the pearl grey sky which was rapidly filling with wind driven clouds which scoured the landscape. The howl and whistle of its voice screeched around the eaves and rattled the window frames.

  “It’s going to snow, no doubt, but it won’t last long. It rarely does,” Walter assured her.

  “Still, I should go and make sure there’s plenty of wood inside the hen house to keep the stove going if it blows for too long. And check the feed bin too.” Agnes pulled on a heavy sweater over the one she already wore, and stepped out into the mud room to gather coat, mitts and scarf.

  “I’ll come help, Mome.” Anna came into the kitchen. “The chickens are my responsibility now, remember.” She followed her mother into the mud room to swath herself in outwear. Only her blue eyes showed by the time she wrapped a long scarf around her face over her coat and pulled her knitted hat down low on her forehead.

  “Let’s go then, before it gets worse.” Agnes led the way out the back door.

  Elsie followed their progress across the yard, their bodies bent into the strong northwest wind, tails of their scarves whipping in the gale. Already flakes fell thicker than only half an hour ago. She sat down to finish her coffee before readying the children’s breakfast. There would be no school today so Agnes had allowed them to sleep in. All except Anna, who was always up before the sun, even in the long days of summer.

  When the men were finished eating, Elsie cleared the table and began the makings of pancakes for the youngsters to stretch the supply of perogies. A fist of wind rattled the windows and shook the frame house. Her heart jumped a bit in spite of herself. It’s only a storm coming in, she reminded herself.

  Anna and Agnes returned, a blast of snow and frigid air accompanying them. “My goodness, that wind cuts right to the bone,” Agnes gasped while unwinding her snow encrusted scarf. “It’s really starting to come down too.” She gestured toward the window where snow stuck to the frosted panes in white blossoms.

  Walter rose and went to put on his outer clothes again. “I’d best bring in some more wood before it gets worse out there. Looks like we’re in for a blizzard if that sky is any indication.” He turned his farmer’s eye to the worsening storm.

  Ike got his feet as well and went to join his son-in-law. “Best make sure the barn is shut tight and the livestock is well bedded.”

  “Throw them some extra feed just in case the storm gets worse by tonight. It will save you a trip out in the dark,” Elsie suggested.

  Ike turned to her with a smile, his coat half on one shoulder. “You trying to tell me how to care for the animals now, are you?”

  “Go on with you, old man. I’m just trying to save you from being buried in some snowdrift. You wouldn’t thaw out ’til spring.”

  His chuckle followed him out the door.

  “I got a few more eggs,” Anna announced, putting six brown eggs in the bowl on the counter. “The stove is pretty well stoked and the water isn’t frozen. I already gave them extra straw this morning and filled the hopper with grain.”

  “You’re a good girl, Anna.” Elsie ruffled her granddaughter’s hair.

  The patter of feet in the upstairs hall announced the arrival of the rest of the family before their high pitched voices echoed in the stairwell. The phone shrilled over their excited chatter as the children burst into the room.

  “Hello.” Elsie answered the summons while Agnes shushed her brood.

  “Mome? It’s Susan. I just heard on the radio there’s a blizzard coming. I wanted to be sure you knew so you could make preparations. They’re saying it’s going to be a bad one.”

  “We haven’t had the radio on this morning, but it’s snowing here now and the wind is picking up,” Elsie replied. “Have you talked to Helen or Sarah yet?”

  “Not yet, I called you first. I’ll contact them as soon as I hang up. I don’t trust the phone wires in this wind. The service might go down at any time.”

  “I’ll let you go then. Thanks for the news. I’m going to call your brothers while the phone is still working. Stay safe.” Elsie rang off. She turned to Agnes who was buttering toast for the twins. “That was Susan. The weatherman says there’s a blizzard coming.”

  “I think it’s already here.” Agnes nodded at the snow covered window which was letting only a diffuse blue light now. “I hope the menfolk come in soon.”

  “It does look like it’s going to be a bad one,” Elsie agreed, casting a worried glance at the increasingly thick fall of snow and taking note of the different pitch in the wail of the wind. The screech of the telephone wires in the gale, clearly audible even in the house, sent a shiver down her spine.

  “I’m going to call your sisters and the boys.” Elsie lifted the receiver and began her calls. By the time she’d spoken to Helena and Sarah, the snow was already drifting across the drive and piling against the outbuildings. The phone connection crackled and cut out from time to time, but she managed reach Ed, Jake and Hank and reassure herself everyone was safely at home and not caught out somewhere in what was rapidly becoming a dangerous storm.

  The last call she made was to Hank and Frieda who lived the farthest away, over by Niverville. Frieda assured her that they were fine and well prepared for the storm. It hadn’t intensified at their place yet and Hank was out closing the livestock into the barn and pitching extra hay into the sheep pen and cattle mangers. She thought he would get the evening milking done before the blizzard hit. While it was now snowing heavily in Silberfeld, it was only beginning to fall outside Niverville. Elsie hung up the phone at the same time the tramp of boots stamping on the back steps, and an increase in the sound of the wind when the door opened, announced the return of the men from the barn.

  With swift efficiency, she poured too large mugs of coffee and took the men’s outerwear from them. Agnes came to help her beat the snow from the coats and scarves. She clapped the mitts together to knock what she could off. Rather than leave the garments in the mudroom, Elsie brought them into the kitchen and hung them over the backs of chairs near the wood stove. Agnes placed some large towels on the linoleum to catch the water than ran off as the snow melted.

  “I don’t like the looks of this storm,” Walter remarked, wrapping his big hands around the pottery mug for warmth.

  “It’s just a blizzard. There’s always at least one every winter,” Agnes replied, although the furrows on her forehead belied her words.

  “It’s come up too fast, and there’s an odd note in the voice of that wind…” Ike shook his head, years of farming and reading the weather patterns of the area putting lines of worry on his face.

  “We’ve lots of food in the house, and feed in the barn for the animals. Anna has bedded up the chickens and there’s plenty of dry wood for their stove. We’ll just have to wait it out. These things never last more than a day or so,” Elsie said, seeking to alleviate the tension i
n the room.

  Anna and her younger siblings were playing hide and seek upstairs. Shrieks and laughter accompanied the patter of their feet. Elsie was thankful they weren’t aware of their elder’s concerns with the weather.

  “Have you spoken to the boys?” Ike asked.

  “Yes, every last one of them, and the girls too. Frieda said it hadn’t really started to snow yet over by Niverville, but the others near here all said it was snowing hard. I made sure to call right away in case the lines go down in the storm.”

  “Ah, that’s good then. One less thing to worry about.” Ike leaned back in his chair, legs crossed at the ankles and outstretched under the table. He rested the coffee mug on his stomach, cradled in his hands. “The temperature is dropping fast. We’ll have to make sure the fires stay lit during the night.”

  “I think we’ll bring the twins into bed with us to keep them warm,” Agnes said.

  Walter nodded, head turned toward the kitchen window where the daylight was blotted out by the snow clinging to the single pane glass.

  Elsie supressed a shudder when a particularly strong gust of wind hammered the north windows of the house. She hated the wind when it stormed like this. It always reminded her of the storms on the ship when they moved to Paraguay so many years ago. She’d been sure they were all going to drown beneath the great towering waves. The howl of a prairie storm somehow made everything come rushing back.

  Anxious to do something to take her mind from the memories, she got to her feet and fetched the containers of coal oil and kerosene.

  “Agnes, will you come and help me fill the lamps please? There’s no telling how long it will be before the electricity goes out.”

  “Of course, Mome. I’ll put some wood on the fire in the living room and start the little heaters upstairs in the bedrooms.”

  “Anna’s room is on the north side, she might be better to sleep down here on the sofa near the fireplace. The wind will rip right through her room at the rate it’s blowing.”

  “That’s a good suggestion. I’ll ask her if she would like to do that. You know how she can be, funny little thing.” Agnes smiled.

  “That’s true. She does have a mind of her own,” Elsie agreed.

  The two women filled every oil lamp in the house but only lit the one in the living room. There was little to do for the rest of the day save listen to the radio when they could get reception and keep the children occupied. Elsie spent the afternoon by the fire in the living room knitting. She made sure there were plenty of batteries for the radio, if the power went out, as it surely would, they would need them.

  The storm closed in around the prairie homestead and the winter twilight came early. Snow plastered the single pane windows and wind snaked through every crack it could find billowing the curtain when the gusts hit the building.

  Elsie closed the door between the living and dining room as well as the kitchen. The cook stove would keep the kitchen warm, and the fireplace threw enough heat to make the living room cozy. The twins and Anna curled up before the fire on the braided rug Elsie made years ago. Agnes sat on the settee beside Elsie, while Ike and Walter huddled around the radio trying to get some news of the storm from the outside world. The tube radio crackled and gave off intermittent squeals while Ike fiddled with the dials. For brief moments the announcer’s voice came through clear.

  “It sounds like the storm is intensifying. They’re warning against travel and advising people to prepare for at least three days of blizzard weather.” The click of the switch was lost in the sound of the snow battering the house.

  Elsie put down her knitting and moved to peer out the window. “Three days? That’s more than usual for this time of year. Weather like this usually blows out in under forty-eight hours.” She pushed the curtain back and scratched at the heavy frost coating the pane. “Oh my goodness!”

  Her exclamation brought the other adults to the window. “Look at the height of the drift on the porch! It’s up to the window sill already.”

  “Honest?” Anna popped up beside Elsie. “Let me see!” She dashed into the hall and pulled the front door open before Elsie realized her intention. “Oh! Come see all the snow!”

  “Anna! Shut that door this instant,” Walter snapped. He moved his daughter out of the way and pushed the door shut, but not before taking note of the piled snow against the screen door.

  Elsie got a good look before the door slammed shut against the wind driven snow blasting into the front hall through the screen. The dry, hard packed snow was halfway up the door and covered the porch in an even, ever rising, blanket. If she didn’t know there were four steps down to the yard she would have thought the door opened onto level ground.

  She returned to the living room after sweeping up the snow from the hall floor. No sense in letting it melt and spoil the hardwood Ike so painstakingly laid when the house was built. With the abundance of oak trees, the hardwood had been easy to come by. Ike and Walter were standing by the door into the kitchen, while Agnes was calming a weeping Anna.

  “I didn’t mean any harm, Mome. I just wanted to see how much snow had fallen.” The girl raised her tear stained face to her mother. “Do you think the chickens will be okay? The fire won’t last for three days, will it? I can’t let them freeze.” She started to push away from her mother.

  “Your father and grosspape will take care of them when they go out to milk the cows. Come along now, children. I think it’s bedtime, and I believe I know just which Bible story will be a good fit for tonight.” Agnes shepherded the children upstairs to the bedrooms where the small heaters were pushing back the ever increasing cold.

  Elsie followed their progress until the shadows of the stair well swallowed them up. The reassuring tread of their feet on the floorboards overhead somehow offered comfort. She turned her attention to the men by the door.

  “Where are you going?” she asked when they opened the door and started into the kitchen.

  “You go ahead, Walt. I’ll be there in a minute.” Ike waved his son-in-law forward. “The way that snow is drifting we won’t be able to get out of the house in a few hours. I’ve never seen a storm like this one in all my years. Walter and I are going to clear a path to the woodshed and the barn. It’s gonna take some work to keep it clear I’m afraid.”

  “Wait, I can help,” Elsie offered. “Just let me go change into something warmer.”

  “No. You stay here where it’s warm. See if you can get one of the children on the phone, see how they’re doing. Sarah and Arnold are alone, unless they’ve managed to make it over to Helen’s. It will be safer if they can stay together and pool their resources.” Ike moved into the kitchen and started to pull on his outer wear. Walter had already gone out into the lee of the house, protected by the mudroom projecting out from the house proper.

  “Fine, I’ll do that. But you be careful. The two of you stay together. Don’t get separated, you know how easy it is to get lost in all that whirling snow. Don’t be out there too long, either,” she called after his retreating back. The kitchen door closed with a click of the latch, followed by the slam of the mud room door. Shaking her head, Elsie put more wood on the stove, almost dropping the last billet of oak when the lights flickered and died. She pushed the wood all the way in and slid the lid back into place with the cast iron lifter.

  Feeling her way around the table in the sudden darkness, Elsie pushed open the door to the living room and stepped into the flickering glow of the kerosene lamp and the fireplace. She reached up and took the full lamp from the mantle where Agnes placed it earlier. She removed the chimney and lit it with a spill from the fireplace. Holding it in front of her she paused at the bottom of the stairs. Agnes seemed to have things well in hand, the soft illumination of an oil lamp shone onto the landing. The children were giggling about something, so the loss of electricity didn’t appear to be bothering them.

  Reassured, Elsie went back into the kitchen and placed the lamp in the middle of the table. It gave suffic
ient light for her to put on a fresh pot of coffee. Once the pot was on the heat, she lifted the receiver on the phone and tried Sarah’s number. There was no answer and the line went dead after two rings. She glared at the phone as if it had done it on purpose just to vex her. Elsie tried Helen’s next. Her knees almost gave out in relief when the call was answered.

  “Helen?”

  “Mome. How bad is it at your place?” Helen’s voice came faintly over the crackling line.

  “Bad enough. The snow is already halfway up the front door. Pape and Walter are out shovelling a path to the woodshed and the barn. How is it there? Are Sarah and Arnold with you?”

  “Yes, Arnold brought Sarah over right after it really started to blow. About the same. Martin and Arnold are out shovelling too. The radio said we should expect at least three days of this. If that happens we’ll be buried,” Helen’s voice took on a note of hysteria.

  “Let’s pray for the best. There’s nothing else we can do, this is in the Lord’s hands.” Elsie paused. “How is Sarah managing? Is she all right?” She twisted the cord in her fingers, glancing every few seconds at the door.

  “I think Sarah is taking this better than the rest of us. All she can talk about is going to Mexico. The only comment she’s made about the storm is that it might postpone their departure if it takes too long to melt come spring.” The faint hysteria faded to be replaced by exasperation.

  “Did you get all the stock in? Thank the good Lord Ike got everything in before this began,” Elsie changed the subject.

  “Yes, Hank got word from the CPR that the storm was coming, so he called and let us know. Susan was supposed to call you and pass on the message.”