by Janette Oke
"Oh, goodness no;' she answered, shaking her head as though the thought were preposterous. "I hardly know her. I've just seen her on the street, and she would never have anything in common with the likes of me"
Then Mary blushed as though she were afraid that her words had somehow put Camellia down.
I mean, well-we are-she's educated and all, and I-"
I rescued Mary from her embarrassment.
"Where did you hear about her?"
"From Willie. He wrote all about it. He keeps in touch with Camellia:"
"Oh-h;" I said. But it was rather an empty sound. I heard from Willieoften-but he had never informed me of all of Camellia's plans.
"Does Camellia like school?" I asked, because I was sure that Mary was expecting me to say something.
"Hadn't you heard?" asked Mary, taken aback. "She quit"
"Quit?" Now I was really surprised.
"She was only there for a couple of months when she quit:"
"Then what is she doing? Why didn't she come home?"
"At first she was afraid to tell her pa. And then she left New York and managed to get some kind of job. A telephone operator, I think, out East. So she stayed"
What a disappointment that must have been for Mr. Foggelson. And then I thought of Mrs. Foggelson. She would have been disappointed too, but not that Camellia had dropped out of Interior Design. Her disappointment would have been that Camellia didn't come back home.
"Well, Willie says that she likes her job just fine."
"So she writes to Willie?" For some reason, the news was both encouraging and threatening at the same time. I wished with all of my heart that Camellia felt free to write to me, but at the same time I was glad that Willie was keeping in touch. He had led Mary to become a Christian. Now it seemed he was working on Camellia. Inwardly I prayed for Willie's success.
But Mary was speaking again, with a bit of a laugh. "Oh, she doesn't need to write. Her job is right there in town:"
"Right where in town?" I asked stupidly.
"Where Willie goes to college. She is right there, working on the town switchboard. Willie found the job for her"
Well, that was news to me. Why hadn't Willie mentioned it to me in one of his letters? And then I smiled to myself. Willie knew that I was already praying for Camellia. But he didn't want me to get my hopes up too soon. Her father had influenced her so strongly that it might take many weeks, even months, before she would see the light after so many years of antagonism toward Christianity, and I wouldn't ask any questions of Willie. He'd share with me when he felt that the time was right.
I suddenly realized that I had been sitting at Mary's table for longer than I had intended. It was already getting dark and there were chores to do. Besides, Grandpa and Uncle Charlie would be anxious for my report-even if I wasn't returning with good news.
"I've gotta get;' I said to Mary and rose from the chair, reaching for my coat and cap all in one motion.
Then I thanked her for the refreshments, told her mother goodbye, and was on my way.
Mary saw me to the door.
"I'm sorry, Josh;' she said quietly.
"About what?" I asked, startled.
"About the winter being so hard and all;' she went on. "It's been a tough year for your first year farmin'-it was such a long, hard fall, and then-and then this;' she finished lamely.
I was relieved at her words. I had been afraid that she had been going to say something about the Foggelsons. I had counted the days until Camellia would be done with her schooling and come back to our little town, and now with her folks moving, it didn't look like there was much chance of that happening. But I was relieved that Mary couldn't read my mind.
"Like your ma says;' I returned, trying to sound brave and full of faith, "it'll turn out all right. God won't forsake us"
Mary gave me a big smile. She really had a very pretty smile, with white, even teeth and a dimple in each cheek.
I found myself smiling back. Maybe it was just that Mary's smile was contagious, or maybe I hoped she'd smile again. But for whatever reason, I did feel better as I mounted Chester and headed through the chilling weather for home.
CHAPTER 11
A Visit
We had to sell several head of cattle and all but two good sows. It would be a long time until we would get the herd and the pigpens built back up again, and I wondered if Grandpa and Uncle Charlie's decision was the right one. What if spring was just around the corner, and the new grass would soon be available? Maybe we would have been able, with careful rationing, to make it through.
It turned out that they had done the right thing. Another and then another storm struck, making it difficult to feed the few head of stock that remained. Neighbors who were trying to ration feed and make it through without selling off livestock lost most of their herd, and they didn't have cash from a sale to help them in rebuilding.
Our own stock diminished, and we lost one of our best milk cows when she got weak after giving birth to a fine calf. Grandpa and I sat all night with her, trying to keep her warm and pouring warm mash down her throat, but we lost her. I was sure we would lose the beautiful little heifer too, but Grandpa told me to carry her up to the kitchen, and Uncle Charlie took over from there. I don't know how he did it, but he pulled that little calf through. We all knew that she would be important in building up the herd again.
It seemed that all our days and nights were taken up with fighting to save what Grandpa and Uncle Charlie had worked so many years to build. It just didn't seem right.
As soon as the weather began to warm some and I had a bit more time, I went off to town to see Uncle Nat.
"You know that fella you told me about who changes his crops around and such?"
He nodded. "Crop rotation:'
"Yeah, rotation. Well, I was wondering if I might go and see him;' I went on. "I've been wondering how he made it through the winter."
"Haven't heard;" said Uncle Nat. "They mostly shop in Gainerville. Don't come here too often"
"Could you tell me how to get to his farm?"
Uncle Nat gave me directions. They sounded simple enough, and I headed Chester out of town. The day was bright, and the warmth of the sun shone down on the snowbanks. Chester was tired of winter and being shut up; he wanted to run, but I held him in check. I didn't want him to get all lathered up and then catch pneumonia. We had enough problems without losing Chester.
I found the farm without any trouble, though it took longer to get there than I'd thought it would. No wonder the family shopped in Gainerville- they were quite a ways from our small town.
Mrs. Thomas welcomed me cordially enough and informed me that her husband was down at the barn, so I declined her invitation into the kitchen and told her that I'd just go on down there to see him.
The Thomases were a big family. I saw three girls of varying sizes through the open kitchen door, and when I got to the barn there were four boys working along with their pa.
Randall Thomas was a big man, about forty, with a firm handshake and a kind twinkle to his eyes.
"Pastor Crawford's nephew, you say? Well, right glad to know ya, son," he said. "Sure did appreciate the trip yer uncle made out here to see Ma"
We chatted for a few minutes, my eyes traveling over the barn and feed shed all the time I was talking or listening. It didn't look to me like there had been a feed shortage at this farm.
At last we got around to talking about the winter that we hopefully had just passed through.
"Sure a tough one;' the big man said. "Worst I remember seem'."
I agreed, though it was evident that I hadn't seen quite as many winters as Mr. Thomas had.
"Looks like your stock made it through just fine;' I said, nodding my head toward a corral holding some healthy looking cattle.
"Sold some of em way last fall;' he surprised me by saying.
"You did?"
"Didn't want to wait until they only made soup bones;' he went on. `A farmer has to t
hink long-range. You figure about the worst that a winter can do to you and then plan accordingly. I figured out the feed I'd need to git each critter through to the end of May. By then the new grass should be helpin' us out some, even in the worst of years:'
"We didn't have near enough feed to take us that far;' I commented. "We had to sell several head:"
"Too bad," he said sympathetically, shaking his head at our misfortune. "Heard some folks lost a lot of stock before they could even sell 'em."
"Grandpa sold early, before things got too bad," I informed him.
"That was smart thinkin;" went on the man. "The way I see it, a few real good, healthy head of stock are better'n a whole herd of weak, half-starved ones.
I could see his point.
"A herd can get themselves into pretty bad shape if you don't keep upgra- din' em, he went on. "Then they can't take much cold an' poor feed."
I looked at his sleek cattle. They didn't look like they had just been through a tough winter.
A bird overhead drew my attention to the sky. The sun had already moved far to the west, losing much of the warmth of the day. It was a long ride back home, and I knew I should soon be making it.
"I really came to see you about your crops;' I told Mr. Thomas. "I've a feeling that we would have fared much better this winter if our land were producing like it should be. Seems to me the hay that we took off was only about half as high or heavy as it could have been"
His eyes glinted with interest as they met mine.
"You just startin' to farm?" he asked.
I nodded, then corrected myself. "Well, I was raised on that farm but until this year I've been doin' the chorin; not the farmin. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie have been farmin' the land. They aren't able to do it all now so-"
He cut in. "So you are farmin, and you wanta start out right?"
I nodded again.
"Well, yer a smart boy." His hand fell to my shoulder and he gave it a squeeze.
"A man can farm his land right out iffen he plants the same crop year after year. Only stands to reason. Why, even way back in the time of the Israelites, God gave a command that the land was to get a rest ever' now an' then. Same thing now. The land needs to rest-to build up its reserves agin." And then he began an enthusiastic explanation of how that was to be done.
I listened attentively. But the sun was moving on, and there was so much to learn. I felt frustrated and tense, and I guess that the man sensed it.
He stopped and his eyes followed mine to the sky. "There's too much to learn in one afternoon;' he told me. "You come on back-as often as you like-and we'll pick it up from here"
I was glad he understood my need to be on the road and for the invitation to come to see him again.
"Tell ya what," he continued as we walked toward Chester. "You draw up a plan of yer fields. Mark what's been growing in each for the last seven, eight years, and then come see me agin. We'll see what ya should be plantin' come spring:'
I could only stammer my thanks. I hadn't expected that kind of help.
"It's important to get good seed, too," the man continued. "Some farmers try to skimp on the cost of seed. But that costs 'em more than it saves 'em. Just like it is with livestock. The Bible says, `Ya reap what ya sow.' Now I know that wasn't talkin' 'bout the grain and the stock as much as it was what ya sow in life, but the same holds true''
I hadn't thought of it that way before, but it made sense. It was a totally different approach to farming than I had been used to, but I promised myself that I would learn all I could about it. I thanked the man for his kindness and mounted Chester.
"Now that;' he said appreciatively, running a hand over Chester's thick neck, "is good breedin: Where'd ya get a horse like this, son?"
I explained that Chester had been a gift and reached down to rub his neck myself.
"First-rate horse!" the man exclaimed, making me beam with his praise.
On the way home I let Chester do a bit of running, though pacing him so that he wouldn't get too heated. But, like the man had said, Chester's good breeding showed. He could run a lot without getting winded or sweated up.
I had so much to think about that my head was swimming. Good seed, good blood lines, crop rotation-those were things that spelled out productive farming. And if a man was going to farm-even if it was just until God called him into his real life's work-then he ought to try to do a good job of it. I determined that I would find out all I could about doing the job right. Maybe the next time we had a bad winter we wouldn't need to suffer such serious setbacks.
CHAPTER 12
Looking for Spring
As my interest in farming techniques increased, I found some farm magazines with articles about crop rotation and pored over them. I sent away to the Department of Agriculture for free information that was mentioned in one of the magazines. I also asked them for information about building up the herd with proper blood lines. Soon pamphlets and sheets of information were coming back through the mail. I hadn't realized that there was so much to farming-or that the government had information available to help farmers. There were even agricultural courses that a fella could take at home. I had always thought that a man became a farmer because he had been born and raised on the farm and his pa needed help.
"You been gettin' an awful pile of mail lately," Grandpa remarked, glancing at the three brown envelopes and a magazine on the kitchen table.
"There's a lot more to this farming than I ever knew from just growing up on one;' I commented. "You and Uncle Charlie made it seem so easy-"
"Oh, we did the best we knew how, and it worked pretty good most of the time;" Grandpa interrupted, "but it looks to me like yer findin' some real important things'bout farmin' in those magazines and booklets of yers. Charlie an' I've been readin' some of them, too," he said to my questioning look. "We're real glad yer learnin' some new ways to do things" From the shine in his eyes, I knew he meant it.
All through the chill of spring I worked with the stock, trying to keep them comfortably warm so their energy could be reserved for putting fat on their bodies. I still couldn't feed them the way I would have liked, but I made a warm mash for them on the cooler days, and kept the animals in the barns all I could. It meant more barn cleaning, but if the stock benefited, then it would be worth it.
On the sunnier days I let them out to pasture. The snowdrifts were slowly melting down and the horses led the way for the cattle, pawing back the snow in order to get to the left-over grasses from last fall. They even began to discover some fresh new blades of grass and that increased their desire to forage. The cows followed along behind, eating from the open spots the horses had left.
Every day I watched the sky, the snow patches, the weather, mentally measuring the feed I had left with the number of animals.
At night I read the magazines and information booklets, and I began to see what Mr. Thomas had been trying to tell me-there was a system to good farming.
I drew out a map of the fields, and Grandpa and Uncle Charlie and I went over them one by one. It was hard to remember every field back for seven or eight years. Sometimes Grandpa and Uncle Charlie disagreed about the crop that had been planted in a particular field and then they would have to sort through their thinking, trying to figure out which one was right. I decided then and there that an accurate account of each field would be kept year by year, along with the yield and any other information I might come up with.
Daily I checked my feed rations; I was still anxious that we wouldn't make it to the end of May. Finally we held a consultation and decided to sell off two more young heifers. They looked small-boned, and we wanted to build up our herd with larger animals.
Instead of going to see Mr. Thomas alone, I suggested to Grandpa and Uncle Charlie that they come with me. I wanted them to hear firsthand what the man had to say, and to catch some of the excitement that he generated.
Thus on a mild day that held a promise of spring, we hitched the team to the wagon. The road was rutted
and messy with dirty puddles of half-melted snow. The ground had not yet yielded up its frost, but still it was hard pulling for the team, and we didn't travel very fast. I drove and Uncle Charlie and Grandpa just sat there and soaked in the warmth of the sun. It had been a long time since they had been able to feel the sunshine.
It was just as I had hoped that it would be. We were welcomed with a handshake that made my hand tingle. I thought of Uncle Charlie and his arthritis and almost said something, but Mr. Thomas must have noticed the crippled hands, for he took my uncle's hand very carefully and didn't squeeze at all.
This farmer's enthusiasm was contagious. He talked about the importance of good seed, of planting in weed-free fields, of rotating the crops so that the soil wouldn't become depleted, and of fertilizing properly each year.
With the livestock kept in so much of the winter, at least we wouldn't be short of fertilizer. But I winced as I thought of the unpleasant task of scattering it over the fields.
With the help of Mr. Thomas, we analyzed our field situation and determined what crops should be planted where and which field should go fallow. The next step was to find a source of good seed grain. We were in the favored position of being able to afford a bit of good seed. Before we left, Mr. Thomas promised to come out and take a look at our livestock. He would help us sort out the best that we had and then figure out how to start developing better stock.
My head was whirling by the time we put down our coffee cups and headed home. We had so much to think about and so much to get doneeven before planting time.
All the way home I was planning the days ahead. Even if spring was slow in coming, I still didn't think we'd be ready for it. There was so much to do to prepare the ground for the coming crop year.
Because I knew I would be more than busy once we could drive the wagon out to the fields, I decided to call on Mrs. Foggelson before I got too rushed. I was sorry to hear she would be leaving us. I guess I was even a little sorry to hear that he would be going. I wished with all my heart that he could realize that there was a God-a God who was in charge of the universe. How could someone with such a brilliant mind be so wrong about something so important?