by Lena Yoder
In the meantime, I washed the tomatoes and got them into the pots to cook. I fixed the schoolchildren’s lunches and made oatmeal for breakfast. We all gathered in the living room before breakfast to send our praise and thankfulness heavenward. Then we were all aflutter again. I combed the girls’ hair, and they finished getting ready for school.
After they headed out, I grabbed the five-gallon bucket again and ran for the garden to get the rest of the ripe tomatoes. It was a beautiful morning, and I listened to the chatter of the neighborhood girls as they biked past on their way to school. Then all was quiet again.
I keep thinking of a year ago today… the day Mom died. Many, many thoughts tumble through my mind. How we all miss her, and that’s okay. I rest in the thought that this was the will of God, but I still miss her. The last month has been especially hard.
I have to stay on my toes as my sisters Leanna and Sue and I are going to my Aunt Ida’s for lunch today. (She’s Mom’s sister.) Ida’s two daughters, Edna and Erma, will also be there. It will feel good to see everyone. I fixed a bowl of coleslaw to take along for lunch.
Jesse and Jolisa entertained themselves by making a brown cracker and granola mess. They asked umpteen times when we will be ready to go to Aunt Ida’s. Poor things. I’m not used to having a schedule like this, and it makes me jumpy. Tomorrow I go away for the day too.
I set up the Victorio strainer and put the cooked tomatoes through for juice. I heated the can lids and lined the quart cans up. I added 2 tablespoons lemon juice (½ teaspoon citric acid or 4 tablespoons regular white vinegar also works) to each can, poured in the tomato juice, slapped the lids on top and screwed on the rings tightly. I water-bath canned them for 35 minutes, took them out, and set them on a towel to seal. Groan. Now comes the fun part—cleaning up the mess. It didn’t take long because I was on a mission.
Jesse and Jolisa were still asking me when I would be ready to go to Aunt Ida’s. We finally went and enjoyed every minute we were there. The meal Aunt Ida prepared was so like what Mom would make when we came home for the day. It warmed us all the way to our hearts. And the stories! It was just so good to be there.
Colleen came home with us, and we are all glad to have her at home again even if she was only gone for a night. She deserved a fun little break with her cousins. We got home at 2:30, and I decided to see if our couch was still comfortable! Stretching out felt wonderful, and I decided not to feel one bit guilty. When the schoolchildren came home they wondered if I was sick.
While the rest of us chored and the little ones played, Colleen washed the tomato juice cans and carried them to the basement. She said there are more than 70 quarts down there now. As long as the plants keep producing, I’ll keep canning. We eat a lot of chili soup and tomato gravy in the winter. Wayne would drink more tomato juice if I had a habit of keeping some in the refrigerator. I know that would be good for me too, but ugh and gross. Maybe once I grow up I’ll like it too.
We had spaghetti and meatballs, along with tomato sandwiches, for supper. Colleen got the campfire roaring to have roasted marshmallows and s’mores for dessert. It seems the summer was so cool and short that we didn’t get a lot of s’mores made. I sure ate my share tonight.
The house is quiet with the children now in bed. Wayne is reading in his dilapidated recliner. It’s time to call it a day. Oh, but I do have to tell you what happened on a Monday back in August.
To begin with, the week after my mom died I discovered I had a secret pal. The first day I was home alone with the little ones, a floral shop delivered a teacup and saucer with a fresh flower arrangement. I was humbled and in awe. It felt like the Lord was telling me he’s right here with me. And on it went. Every month I received a gift. In July there was a note attached to the gift saying to be ready on August 31. I had no clue as to who this secret person was.
I decided to piece a scrap log-cabin quilt using leftover fabric from Mom’s quilt business to give this person as a gift of appreciation. I had a lot of emotions tied into this quilt because this secret person was really blessing me. So often it seemed I received those gifts just when I needed a lift. Often it felt like the Lord was showing me that he cares for me. I was a bundle of excited nerves by the time August 31 rolled around.
I found out that five ladies from a church district decided to have secret pals for a year. As soon as I saw these ladies, I knew my cousin Edna was my secret pal! She has a quilt business like Mom used to have, so she already has plenty of quilts, but she was still appreciative of the one I’d made for her because of the fabric I used and the emotions involved.
Our house is cold on this dreary, rainy day. It seems the last dozen or so times Colleen did laundry it ended up being rainy. Wayne is now trying to get the coal stove started here in the kitchen so we can start unthawing our tight shoulders and maybe think about drying some laundry in here. There really is nothing cozier then a warm fire glowing in one corner of the kitchen. It warms a person to the bones and looks so peaceful.
This morning while I was kneading bread at the kitchen table, Jesse crawled up on the table and started playing in the flour canister. I told him to stop and, of course, he wasn’t impressed. He told me I could just go to Shipshewana or Topeka and buy our bread instead of making it. He figured then he wouldn’t be tempted to play in the flour.
We’ve definitely had an abundance of moisture and cool temperatures this year. I didn’t get my fill of warm sunshine. I cringe to think of the cold winter months ahead when I can hardly move to do chores because of my many layers of clothing. If you’ve never had the chance to experience the joys of January and February dairy farming amid frozen water pipes, frozen toes, frozen dresses, and a very cold milking parlor with six or eight cats vying for the milk dish, remember to thank the Lord while you’re inside your cozy, warm house looking outside. I’m really thankful, though, that I have a chance to go outside and get fresh air and exercise—even if I sometimes feel like kicking the pesky cats.
One night while Wayne and I were milking, Jesse came to the parlor extremely upset. He was crying hysterically and his knees were shaking against each other. He was repeatedly saying, “The tractor is out!” Brian had been driving the garden tractor, so Wayne figured Jesse was denied a ride and upset about it. With Jesse’s carrying on, we decided it might be something more serious than that. I flew up from the parlor (we have four steps from the pit) and into the milk house, afraid of what I would encounter. Wayne was right behind me.
Immediately I saw why Jesse was so upset. The big 4010 John Deere tractor had broken one of the milk house windows! Wayne had left the commodity shed* door open in the east end of the barn. Jesse had evidently climbed onto the tractor and was playing. He pulled it out of park, and the tractor proceeded to roll east toward the milk house. The cement is in enough of a downgrade and the tractor, with the TMR mixer wagon attached to it, was heavy enough that the machinery gained quite a bit of speed. Jesse nipped a 100-gallon gas tank and crashed into a portable basketball hoop, which slammed into the milk house window, thus breaking it. That was the least of my concerns right then. We were shaken, and very thankful that Jesse was unharmed. As I held and comforted Jesse, it seemed I could feel his guardian angel’s wings fluttering around us and rejoicing at Jesse’s safety with us. It took Jesse a long time to calm down, and he advised Wayne to keep the barn door closed. We all agreed. I cringe to think of the damage that could have been done had the tractor hit the glazed tile blocks of the milk house.
Every week I think, Now this Saturday I want to keep the day more relaxed. But every week it seems to be just as hectic. By the time we get the cleaning done, maybe bake a bit, and fix other food, the day is jam-packed. We did have a stress buster the other Saturday though.
We were done with the regular weekly cleaning, and Colleen was working by the kitchen cabinets when she heard some peculiar sounds. “Mom, I hear a mouse in here!” she said.
We listened and, yes, we heard that dreaded sound. It seemed to be
in distress, and in our kind-hearted way, we wanted to terminate its distress. Colleen and I both went to get brooms. By then Karah, Emily, Jolisa, and Jesse were dancing nervously around the kitchen. We told them to be quiet, and I opened a cupboard and spun the lazy Susan around a couple times to see what would happen.
Colleen and I are typical females, and we had a bad case of the jitters dancing up and down our spines. Probably me more than Colleen because she’s usually calmer than I am.
Yeeeeiiii! Whop! Whop! Wham! We were dancing around by then because the mouse was on the loose! The noise level was astronomical as we chased the mouse through the kitchen. Above all the noise I screamed to the girls to close the pantry door. We didn’t need a mouse in the pantry. The creature ran for the porch as we continued to whop at it.
Finally Colleen made a killing hit, and we straightened our backs and sighed. I glanced toward the kitchen and started whooping and laughing because Karah, Emily, Jolisa, and Jesse were all standing on the kitchen table facing us, their eyes wide. Amid our giggling, Colleen said her broom handle was crooked and would never be the same. All these joys of living in an old house. We very rarely do have mice in the house, thankfully.
Another challenge of living in an old house is having cold floors. The older I get, the colder I get. We put a rug in the living room this fall, so it’s cozier. Can you tell me anything cozier than enjoying an evening at home with the family relaxing in the living room, munching on popcorn, and reading together? Then, being children, they romp around the rug. Next they might fix a nest with blankets, pillows, and a pile of books. Or perhaps they just talk and giggle. The gas lamplight adds to the warmth, and the quiet hum sounds cozy too. All too soon it’s bedtime.
The cows are probably wondering if someone will come out to the barn and milk them tonight. It’s chore time, and the way it sounds in here it’s high time several of us headed to the barn.
Year 3
Winter
“This is the day which the LORD has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” It’s easy to contemplate Psalm 118:24 on such a beautiful, sunshine-filled day as today. We are to rejoice and be glad on the dreary days too, but it doesn’t come so easily then.
I’m aching to head outside and walk two miles, breathing in the fresh air and drinking in the beauty around me. I’d enjoy some quiet time by myself and feeling my muscles working to rid my body of all the sugar and flour I devoured today. I simply disgust myself at times. My self-control went south this morning for some reason. Now I don’t even feel good.
I baked a fresh batch of bread this forenoon, so decided to make one loaf of cheddar ranch as a treat for my family. I ate a piece of that for lunch. I also made Rice Crispy Treats for the children, and I had to lick what was stuck on my fingers when I transferred the mixture from the kettle to the pan. Wayne ordered an apple pie, but I haven’t tasted those except for a bite of crust that chipped off. For several weeks now I’ve been aching for a piece of baked cream pie, so on this mighty day of baking I decided to bake three of those. I have no intention of eating them alone. In fact, I’ll share with the neighbors.
For the baked cream pie I use my Aunt Barbara’s recipe that is deliciously smooth and creamy. My sister Freda knows the recipe by heart. My sisters Ida and Leanna make it a lot. My sister Sue used it for one of her daughter’s wedding meals. My married nieces can bake them to perfection. So you see, it is definitely a family favorite. Self-discipline needs to come home again and stay settled.
Cream Pie
1 cup whole cream
2 cups half & half
3 egg whites
½ cup white sugar
1 cup brown sugar
1 rounded Tbsp. flour
Dash of salt (important!)
A little vanilla
Heat cream and half & half to a slight scald. Do not boil!
Beat egg whites until frothy. Add white sugar and beat a bit more. Add brown sugar, flour, salt, and vanilla. Mix. Add cream mixture.
Mix and pour into a pastry-lined 9-inch pie pan.
Bake at 400 degrees on bottom shelf until set. (You may need to reduce the temperature because a boiled pie is ruined.)
Wayne, Colleen, and I went on a little excursion for two days—a welcome break in the day-to-day monotony. We went to Daviess County in Southern Indiana. Karah stayed at her classmate Eva’s house, Emily stayed at her classmate Alyssa’s house, Jolisa and Jesse stayed with my brother Jay’s family. Brian got the worst end of the deal because he had to stay home to do the chores. He did get a treat by spending the night at neighbor David’s, who helped him with the chores.
We bumped to Daviess County in the backseat of a 15-passenger van that was pulling an enclosed cargo trailer. We had a lot of fun with our fellow passengers. We saw fields of corn and beans, and then more fields of beans and corn. Some scenery we wished we wouldn’t have seen because we didn’t always know exactly where we were going. We did get there safe and sound… an hour later than anticipated. That small inconvenience was quickly forgotten because of what a good time we had.
The Daviess County Amish know the true meaning of hospitality—i’s dotted and t’s crossed. We met many people, immensely enjoyed catching up with news from friends and, as always on an outing like that, didn’t have enough time to take everything in.
We picked up Jolisa and Jesse on our way home. Jesse was becoming quite concerned about the whereabouts of his mom and daddy. He enjoyed his stay, but two days away from us was long enough, he decided. The rest of the children were at home and waiting for us.
Our school seems to be back on track again after having many sick children. School was closed for three days, which seemed to help a lot. Our three scholars each had the flu, but the rest of us have been fortunate so far.
Wayne came in at noon and said we have a fresh heifer,* which is good news for the bulk tank.* However, the calf pen population remains the same because the calf didn’t survive. Hopefully we won’t have a rodeo when we milk tonight. The heifer seems to be kind of wild. You all know how I love to chase heifers.
We’re back to milking twice a day. Wayne explains it thus: A candle can burn for so long, and then the fire burns out. We did it for a year and a half and finally burned out. The milk price seems to be steadily climbing, but it will take a long, long time to rebound.
Lord willing, we are scheduled to host church services in January, which will be a new experience for us. We usually host in the summer months when we can use the shop building. Our church is smaller now because we divided into two districts to better accommodate people in our homes. We plan to host in our house. In our community, our house is classified as small, but there was a lady here from Texas one time who exclaimed our house was huge. So it all depends on what a person is used to. We’ll move all our furniture out of the house and set up wooden benches to accommodate everyone. Hosting church services are a privilege that I long never to take for granted. It’s a precious experience.
Bah humbug! Oh no, no, no, no! I shouldn’t feel that way. For this is the day that the Lord made. I do sincerely want to rejoice and be glad in it. It’s just so very dreary, foggy, muddy, slippery, and slimy. I force myself to dream of summertime. Now there is a thought. Maybe if I could bring sunshine into someone else’s life the sun will shine for me again too. Since we are in February, maybe I can get out some pretty paper and make some valentines!
I hope the people around me know I love them. I know how it brightens up my day when people make an effort to let me know they love me, even with something as simple as a piece of scrap paper with a couple hearts drawn on it. People, especially ladies, like to be told they are loved. I most certainly feel loved without being told all the time because actions speak louder than words, but no one can deny the power of a love note. It doesn’t matter if it’s between husband and wife, parents and children, friend and friend—whoever it may be, a love note is wonderful.
Recently I received a very descriptive poem about bottle-fe
eding a calf. As silly as it was, it made my day. We have four bottle-fed calves at this time, so it’s very fresh in my mind. The note also reminded me that I’m not the only woman out there in the cold getting slobbered over by these mannerless little creatures. I’m very thankful for these healthy calves, but when I’m trying to train a calf to drink and she acts so totally uncivilized, I do start to feel very lonely. Once these calves get used to it, I do enjoy feeding them. We have a little miracle calf in the barn right now. She did not—or could not—drink from a bottle for a couple days. Wayne kept working with her and shoving white fossil flour down her throat. Lo and behold, she finally started taking an interest in life.
We have three calves in the same pen, and they all want to be fed first. Plus they want the second and third bottles too. On these cold days, it actually feels good to stick my frozen fingers into the mouths that aren’t being fed. It helps thaw them out. Now don’t get grossed out. I always wear latex gloves to do chores.
This winter I’m in the barn about two-and-a-half hours at a time, sometimes more. As long as we can stay at milking twice a day, I love it. Sometimes ladies tell me hopefully that someday I can stay inside and my children can do my share of the chores. Maybe I’m being selfish, but I really have no desire of graduating to that state. Taking off once in a while is possible now, and I do enjoy that. But I wonder how I’d keep my sanity if I couldn’t escape out to the barn—especially in the wintertime. Well, when I get up in the morning and hear the icy north wind howling and the snow is blowing, I do have my weaker moments.