F ~ Forty Years

     We had traveled several hundred miles to the little Amish community where my paternal grandparents lived. Usually it was a joyous occasion when we went to see them, but this time was different. Everyone was gathered to say our final good-byes to Grandpa.
    The morning of the funeral arrived. There was a more somber air at the farm. All the fun the big group of us cousins had the day before was pushed aside as we focused on what this day held. Mom had woke us up early, and while she was getting my brothers ready for the day I slipped outside to use the "facilities" (This particular community did not allow indoor bathrooms)
    As I was ready to return to the house Grandma met me on the little path. "You're up early," she said.
    I agreed. The dew was still heavy on the grass and the first signs of a sunrise were just peaking over the eastern horizon.
    We stood side by side and watched the sunrise quietly. I wished with all my little ten year old self I would know what to say to her now that she no longer had Grandpa. But I didn't, so I simply stood there next to her in silence watching a new day dawn.
    Once the sun was up Grandma said, "Forty years."
    I looked at her, confused.
    She must have read the confusion on my face. "We were married for forty years," she clarified.
    "Oh," was my brilliant response.
    We parted then, and I went back into the house to get ready for the funeral.

    It may not be a lot, but it is now a memory I treasure.

Safety First

As I was doing my morning Bible reading, in Revelations, I came upon a verse that triggered a memory from way back when I was probably ten or so.

We were on our way home from church, my brothers and I were in the back seat of the buggy, and I was listening to Mom and Daddy discuss that day's sermons and Bible reading. It had been the Sunday for the annual end times sermon and scripture. Revelations 14 had been read between the two sermons. It was the only time the book of Revelations was touched, and the only chapter ever read in church. It wasn't preached on either so as not to add or take away words from the book of Revelations.

For some reason Daddy made the remark that he thinks he'll have to read the entire book of Revelations. I was instantly intrigued, because what had been read had piqued my interest.

That evening I started reading it. I was terrified, horrified, and yet intrigued. I kept reading. I came to the part where a star, Wormwood fell into the water and it became bitter and people died from it.

I don't know why, with everything else that was written in Revelations, that verse really bothered me. How was anyone supposed to know when that happened? I didn't want to risk dying from drinking some bitter star flavored water.

For a long time when ever I needed a drink I would first serve a glass of water to one of my brothers. If they seemed to be okay it was safe for me to drink it as well.

Circle Letters

Several times a month an envelope filled with letters would arrive and Mom would take a few moments to read all of then before continuing with her work. She was a member of numerous circle letters. One of them was for all her Mast girl cousins close to her age, another one was for her siblings, several others were for some of her school friends, and a variety of others. And hardly a Sunday afternoon or evening passed that she didn't have to write a letter for one of the circle letters.

I dreamed of the day I would be old enough to be in a circle letter. Mom told me I would have to be able to write well before I could join one so when ever I had spare time in school I would often write a letter to Mom and Daddy or my Grandparents.

I kept hoping that Mom would announce that I was ready to join a circle letter but she didn't say anything about it and I knew it was useless to beg for one. But on the morning of my tenth birthday as I came into the kitchen I noticed a gift bag beside my plate on the table. I hurried over to see what I had received. The first thing I found was a box with three of the cutest little "dishes" that I would use to keep my pins in since I now wore cape dresses regularly.

I was thrilled with them, but the next packet I found I could barely contain myself with joy of having one of my most cherished dreams realized. There was a tablet of paper, a box of envelopes,  a book of stamps, and a pretty piece of paper that Mom had written Address Sheet along the top and the numbers from 1 to 10 written along the side. I quickly sat down and carefully wrote my name and address beside the 1 and then entered names and addresses of several cousins and best friends in the remaining slots.

That day in school I wrote my first letter for a circle letter, and mailed it the next day. Several weeks later I received an envelope nicely fat from being filled with letters from nine of my friends. I read everyone's letter and removed the letter I had written and put it into a box to keep like Mom always did with her letters and then quickly wrote a new one so it would be ready to mail the next day. Years passed and I joined lots of other circle letters but none of them were ever as exciting as the first one I had.

The first one is still going in it's journey from house to house and I find it quite entertaining to go back and read all the letters I wrote from the day I turned ten up to a few years ago.

Singing

"We'll be having the singing tonight" Daddy announced one Sunday on the way home from church. John, David, and I looked at each other in the back seat and smiled. It was always special to have the singing at our house. The families in our district took turns opening our home to the youth to spend an evening singing German hymns. Since the only time there were singings was on the Sundays we had church our turn to host came only once a year.

Once we got home we had our usual after church lunch and once the dishes had been cleared away we all went to take a nap so that Mom and Daddy would hopefully let us stay up until the singing was over.

As evening approached Mom made a simple supper. Daddy went to the attic to find our backless bench and set it behind the table that had been opened to it's full length. Mom spread a table cloth over it and set out one of her pretty water sets and several salt shakers. Before long we could hear buggies drive into the lane, the girls came inside while the boys unhitched their horses and then stood visiting in the barn until it was time for the singing to start.

Once seven o'clock arrived everyone came and found a seat at the table. John, David, and I sat on our own little chairs a little distance from the table with Mom and Daddy. For the next two hours there would be no talking as one song after the other was announced and sung. After an hour or so they would pass the salt shakers and who ever was feeling a little hoarse would make a little pile of salt next to their songbook or in the palm of their hand. They would moisten their fingertips and then lick the salt which seemed to do the trick and they continued singing.

I loved singing and was always sad when after two hours the closing hymn was announced. As the boys went to hitch up the horses again and the girls stood chattering until their ride drove up to the house I looked forward to the time I would be old enough to go to the singings every time, but I made up my mind I would never lick any salt.

Sadness

It was our inbetween Sunday and as usual we got up late. We were almost ready to sit at the table to have our breakfast when we heard a car drive in the lane. When we got up to see who it was we saw an elderly man who did a lot of taxi work for the Amish. Daddy went outside to see what he wanted. It wasn't long before we heard the car leave and Daddy came back inside. We immediately sensed that something was wrong. When Daddy said that Grandpa died we all started crying.

I didn't know Grandpa Swarey all that well since we lived so far away, but I still wasn't prepared to hear that he had passed on. I had been working on a scrapbook for his birthday and now I would never get to give it to him. No one was hungry for breakfast anymore so Daddy hitched our horse to the buggy and went to see if he could find someone to take care of our chores while we went to the funeral. Mahlon wasn't quite two years old yet so they asked Grandpa Masts if they could take care of him till we got back.

By mid afternoon we had the suitcase packed and all the arrangements made and were ready to go. Our driver arrived in an old green clunker car. daddy sat in front and John, David, and I sat in the back with Mom. Once we got to Canada where the speed limit was posted by kilometers he got all excited and went speeding down the road. We passed everyone else and Daddy's explanation that kilometers and miles were different apparently didn't make any sense to the driver as we rushed on into the night.

Once we got to Grandpa Swarey's a few men came out of the house to welcome us inside. As was customary, several families had volunteered to take turns to sit up all night until after the funeral. We were shown to a room where we settled down and slept the rest of the night.

When morning arrived we had breakfast with Grandma. There were lots of neighboring women and girls there cleaning the house and cooking and baking in preparation of the funeral. After we were done eating we sat in the livingroom where there were rows of chairs and benches set up. Since we were family we got to sit on the chairs close to Grandma. Other families from neighboring churches stopped by for a few hours to share their condolences and sit and visit quietly for a few hours. I had never been so bored in my life as the day dragged by.

Finally by evening Daddy's other siblings started arriving and all the cousins arrived with them. Our parents gave us permission to sit together. It was much more fun to have someone our own age to talk to. The next day we were still sitting in the living room and by now we children were all getting fidgety and so when our parents gave us permission we all went outside to play. We had so much fun that it didn't seem possible that everyone was gathered for a sad reason.

The day of the funeral arrived. As buggies started pouring in the driveway and lots of sober faced women and children dressed all in black made their way to the house I wished I would be young enough to sit with Mom and Daddy like John and David were doing. There was an older man telling everyone where to sit and when it was finally time for the grandchildren to sit down I wasn't very pleased to see I was sitting right behind cousin John.

Cousin John was big and enjoyed nothing as much as being mean to younger children. I always tried to keep my distance from him. I comforted myself with the thought that he would surely not try anything during services.

As the first minister stood up and started preaching cousin John shifted back until he was sitting on my knees. I squirmed and he sat forward a little. It wasn't long before he was on my knees again. His sister was sitting beside me, nudged him and hissed "Behave yourself!" He sat back even farther to annoy her, so she leaned over and told me to use a pin and stick it into him. he overheard and sat forward, but I prepared myself. I removed a pin from my apron belt and held it ready. The next time he would sit on my lap there would be a surprise waiting for him.

It didn't take long. As he shifted back I held the pin firmly and felt triumphant when he jumped forward. His parents happened to see the disturbance and his Dad made him go sit beside him for the rest of the services so my victory was even better.

Once services were over and everyone filed past the casket we all headed in a long procession of buggies that made their way slowly to the little graveyard. The horses walked the whole way and I thought we would never get there. Once everything was over we headed back to the house where the women from the community had prepared a big meal. It seemed nice to have everyone talking and visiting in normal tones once again. Once we were done eating it was time for us to go home again. We said good-bye to Grandma and the rest of the aunts, uncles, and cousins and started on our long trip home.

Springs

Our fifteen acres was blessed with numerous springs. We children enjoyed watching the water gurgle out of the ground. The one spring was located at the edge of our patch of woods and was the start of a creek that then meandered its way through the community till it was joined by several others and wound up in the Casselman River.

Another spring was in our front yard. It was really big and Daddy dug a ditch and laid pipes in it to direct the water into a tank in the pasture for our animals. He made that the overflow would run back into the creek from which it had been diverted. This spring had some of the coldest, sweetest water that could be found. Even in the summer it was cold enough that Mom would often float covered bowls of food to cool them off and keep them cold. An occasional watermelon would be placed in it at the shallow end to get crispy cold by evening when we would watch as Daddy would retrieve it and cut it open and we would sit on the front porch and enjoy eating it

There was a big slab stone beside the spring and we used to enjoy sitting on it and listen to the water and pretend we were fishing. If we were brave we would dip our toes in the water but it was so cold we didn't want to keep them in the water longer than a few seconds.

There were a few seasonal springs too. One of them was in the basement of the house. Whoever had built the house must have wanted to have a running spring there because there was a trough deal set up for a place for the water to run through and a drain at the end to guide it outdoors to the creek.

Several other springs were scattered throughout the pasture and the front yard under the chestnut tree. Daddy used to be glad once those dried up by summertime, but I was always sad since I thought you can never have too much water to play in or springs to watch.

One day when we came home from school we decided to play by the big spring until it was time to go make supper. As we sat on the slab we noticed something moving in the water. Upon looking closer we saw what appeared to be a crawdad. David got all excited and wanted to catch it to show it to Mom and Daddy. He leaned down and grabbed for it but the water was deeper and the crawdad faster than he gave either of them credit for. The next instant he fell in headfirst. As he tried to stand up John and I managed to grab hold of him and drag him out. We headed for the house where Mom met us at the door. She got David into dry clothes and John and I helped get supper on the table.

A few days later we were disappointed to hear that Daddy had plans to cover the spring. He didn't want anyone else falling into it. We were in school when they fixed it so that the water all ran underground until it reached the tank in the pasture.

It continued to be a source of great drinking water but it would no longer provide a place to chill watermelons and other food.

Good-bye Jim

John and I were walking home from school. The snow banks beside the road had dwindled down to sad dirty piles. The melting snow created a creek in what was usually an empty ditch. As we dawdled along watching the water and floating twigs in the stream we heard a horse and buggy approaching.

When we looked up we were surprised to see Mom driving Jim. She stopped beside us and we climbed on the buggy wondering where we were going to, since a ride home from school was unheard of unless it was raining.

It didn't take long for us to notice that Mom seemed sad. When we asked her what was wrong she said a man was coming by that evening to buy Jim, and that she had wanted to drive him for one last time yet before he left us.

John and I weren't happy to hear that we would have to sell Jim. Mom assured us he was going to go to a good home and that he deserved to spend the rest of his life in a nice place where he would no longer have to pull our heavy buggy up and down those long hills.

Once we got home Daddy came out of the shop to unhitch Jim. Mom stood there stroking Jim and talking to him for a long time and then turned to go to the house. Her cheeks looked wet from tears and that was the last straw for me. The sobs I had been trying to choke back came. I went to pat Jim's velvety nose and tell him good-bye. He had been our faithful horse ever since I could remember and the thought that he would no longer be in the barn or out in his pasture to welcome us with his gentle whinny was almost more than I could bear to think about.

I went to the house to help Mom prepare supper. After we had eaten we heard a truck and trailer pull into the driveway. Daddy went outside to help load Jim. When he came back inside we got ready for bed.

The following days seemed a little sad when ever we went to the barn and saw Jim's stall with out Jim there waiting for us. Several weeks later we got a picture in the mail of Jim in a nice green pasture. He looked happy and it made me feel a lot better to know that he really was doing fine.

Bob

One day when we came home from school and went out to the barn to help Daddy with the chores we were surprised to see a new horse standing beside Jim. I didn't particularly care for the new horse. He was a burnt orange color and next to faithful Jim he looked awkward and out of place.

Daddy explained that he bought this two year old to train so Jim would no longer have to work so hard pulling our buggy up all these Somerset Co. hills. The horse didn't have a name so we got to help choose it. We went through a whole list of names and finally settled on Bob.

We used to hurry home from school to watch Daddy train Bob. He spent a lot of time talking and currying him and rubbing him down with old feed sacks. He explained that the feed sacks actually felt good to Bob and he needed to get used to seeing white things flutter close to him so he doesn't head for the ditch or try to run away if anything should happen to flap beside the road while he was hitched to the buggy. Bob's training progressed nicely. Once no part of the feed sack made him jumpy at all Daddy told us to bring an umbrella and open it right in front of Bob.

John and I ran to the house to get our big old black umbrella and took it out to the barn. Standing in front of Bob we opened it. It startled him and he jumped back. Daddy spoke calmly to him and then told us to do it again. It took a little while before Bob stood with out flinching the slightest little bit as the umbrella opened and closed right in front of him.

Daddy was pleased at his progress because it would never do to have a skittish horse hitched to the buggy with the rest of his family at risk.

The day came when he tried a harness on him. Bob calmly accepted it and his training continued as Daddy walked behind him in the pasture holding the reins on the harness teaching him everything he needed to know to be a safe buggy horse.

Once Daddy was satisfied that he understood what was expected of him he hitched Jim to the buggy and tied Bob along side of him and took them for a drive down the road. When they came back Daddy was all smiles saying that Bob did really well and with several more weeks of running along beside Jim, Bob would be ready to go solo.

The Chestnut Tree

In front of the house at the edge of the yard, spreading it's branches to form a canopy over our mailbox and part of the road was a majestic old chestnut tree.

I loved that old tree. It used to be the first tree to get leaves in the spring and while other trees were getting leaves, it was producing flowers already. To me they looked like hundreds of miniature Christmas trees covered with white flowers with pink and purple centers. I wasn't the only one that enjoyed those flowers. Bees would come swarming by without fail every year to feast on the sweet nectar. I didn't particularly care for the bees, their buzzing hum could be heard as soon as we stepped outside the house.

Once the flowers were done blooming they were followed by large sticky buds, if the buds stayed attached to the tree they would eventually turn to chestnuts, but if for some reason they fell off they often wound up stuck to our bare feet. It was hard to get them unstuck, so we tried to be careful where we stepped as we walked through the front yard.

As the summer passed the tree produced a lovely shade and provided a great place to relax on the big swing under it. Or jump on the little swing that was fastened to one of it's sturdy branches and go flying through the air, trying to get our toes to touch the leaves was a challenge we enjoyed.

In the fall the large prickly thorn covered balls of chestnuts would start dropping. We children spent hours gathering them and carefully opening the prickly shell and removing several glossy brown chestnuts. They weren't edible, but they were so pretty that we saved all we could. We used to share some of them with an elderly couple that lived in the village. She used them to make wreaths and her husband liked to carry several around in his pockets saying that they relieved his arthritis pain, so we always made sure they got how ever much they wanted. We children got to keep the rest. They were so much fun to play with. I was always sad once they lost their glossiness and we had to throw them away. But I knew that before long that grand old tree would give us another batch.

A Wedding

The first wedding to be held in our new church house was scheduled to happen in less than a week. I was looking forward to it since we were also invited to the reception.

Mom went to help get ready a few days before the wedding. There was a lot of baking and food preparation to do to get ready for all the guests. Since we lived close to the bride's home they borrowed our fine china too in order to have all the tables set with pretty dishes.

Once the day of the wedding came we went to church. Everything seemed like a regular church service except the first bench facing the preachers was reserved for the bridal party which was still hidden away in one of the coatrooms in front of the church house.

The first song was finally done being sung and the 'Lob Lied' started. After the usual twenty minutes of singing it, it was time to sing the third song. Mom had told me to watch the door of the coat room carefully once they start singing the third line of the third song. I had been waiting for that line all morning and now as the first drawn out word faded and the next one followed all eyes were glued to the door as it opened and the bridal party came walking carefully into the room. I watched as they all stood in front of the bench and sat down at the same time. The bride looked very happy but I wasn't thinking about her happy face. I had happened to see that the girls all had to have their hand held by the boy that was escorting them, I nearly shuddered at the thought that I would ever have to do that and vowed I would never get married.

After two regular length sermons the bishop told them if they still wanted to be married they could come stand before him. He had a long row of questions to ask them to which they answered with a soft little yes. The rest of the church stood for a prayer and then the bishop joined their hands and pronounced them man and wife. They returned to their seats while the rest of the preachers gave them words of advice and commented on the sermons. The closing song was sung and it was finally time to go to the reception.

As we got to the home of the brides parents I looked in awe at all the tables that had been set with pretty dishes. There were lots of girls hurrying from the kitchen to the tables carrying bowls filled with steaming food. Everything looked really good and I looked forward to sitting down at one of those long pretty tables. I followed Mom upstairs where she placed our wedding gift on a bed that was heaped with gifts for the happy couple.

The brides father was in charge of seating the people. Close relatives got to be seated first and closest to the bridal table. Once we were seated I was happy to see that we had an excellent view of the bridal party from where we were sitting. Sitting right next to me was a little girl about my age. Once silent prayer was over and everyone started passing the food we started talking. Her name was Effie and she was a sister to the groom. Her mother was one of the cooks so she had to sit at the same table we were at, but she was happy to be able to see her big brother from where she was sitting.

It didn't take her long to eat everything on her plate and then she sat there gazing into the living room at all the other people. Directly across the table from us was a little three year old who was misbehaving and in a fit of anger threw his bread crust that his mother was trying to get him to eat right into Effie's plate. A little later Effie happened to notice the crust and hurriedly picked it up and ate it looking mortified that she still had a crust on her plate.

I felt sorry for her that she ate someone else's crust but I didn't tell her that it hadn't been hers. And as much as I had looked forward to that wedding it is the bread crust I remember the most vividly.

Tasting Snow

One of the many games we enjoyed playing was using a jump rope and wear it over our shoulder and then under our arms and pretend we were a horse while someone else drove us.

One Saturday there was a few inches of fresh snow covering everything and John, David and I decided to play horse again. Our barn was a big old spruce tree that had branches that touched the ground on three sides, the other side had an old propane tank that had been converted to an air tank to run some of the smaller machinery in Daddy's wood working shop. The hooks on the tank worked great as a place to tie our 'horse.'

On this particular day John was the farmer and David and I were the horses. I stood under the tree waiting for John and David to get back from their little run and have my turn. I was hoping they don't go to far because I wanted some fresh snow to run through to before we had all our little paths made.

Once they came back John unhitched David. As I prepared to have my turn David announced how great it was to have a fresh layer of snow that he can pretend to eat hay by licking the snow on the tank and proceeded to take a lick.

Unfortunately he didn't get to enjoy the snow because his tongue stuck to the tank and he couldn't get it to loosen. He started crying as I ran to get Mom, but before she could bring a pitcher of warm water he gave a hard yank and pulled himself loose, but cried even harder when he discovered he had left a good bit of his tongue still stuck to the tank.

Mom and Daddy tried to comfort him in any way they could think of. They were worried that he might never be able to taste again and have trouble speaking. For several weeks we had to put all his food through the baby food grinder but bit by bit his tongue healed until you could no longer tell anything had happened to it.

We had learned our lesson well and never tried licking snow on any metal surface again.

Canning Time

Summer days were filled to the brim. With a growing family Mom had planted a bigger garden and days were filled with picking up any stones we could find between the rows of vegetables and piling them beside the garden for Daddy to use on one of his many projects. I enjoyed picking stones much more than pulling weeds which also thrived in abundance.

It was always fun to start the canning season. Peas were always the first vegetables ready to harvest. Shelling peas was a tiresome job. With several five gallon buckets heaped full, we would get bowls and sit on the front porch swing and start shelling them. To make a boring job more fun we often played guessing games while we worked or sang songs.

Once we were done shelling them Mom would wash them to remove any of the dirt that happened to get into the bowls of peas while John and I went to the attic to find the jars Mom needed. Once we found the jars, they needed to be scrubbed in hot soapy water, which I thought was a total waste of time since they looked clean already.

Once the jars were scrubbed to Mom's specifications we would fill them with peas and carefully measure a teaspoon of salt into each jar and then filled them with water and turned the lids on tightly. Mom would set the filled jars in a canner and cover them with water and light the burner under the canner. Once we saw a few puffs of steam escape from the canner we would check the clock and calculate the time the peas could be removed from the canner three hours later.

Several days later another batch of peas would be ready to can and we would go through the whole process again. And so it continued all summer long, as one vegetable ended another one started and by fall it seemed everything wanted to ripen before the first frost and days were hectically busy with piles of sweetcorn and bushels of tomatoes and green beans plus the fruit, peaches, pears, and early apples. We would no longer have time to pick rocks and the weeds used to wave victoriously at us as we worked from morning till night everyday canning food to take us through until the next summer.

Every once in a while after a particularly warm and tiring day Mom would send John and me to the corner grocery store in the village to buy a box of ice cream for a treat for supper. The half mile walk was worth it as we stood in McLaughlin's Store and Mr. McLaughlin would open the freezer and let us choose a box of ice-cream. He was a kindly old man and would often give us each a Popsicle to eat on the way home. We never could make those Popsicles last until we got home as we thoroughly enjoyed the refreshing cold sweetness they provided after working all day.

The Birthday Cake

Mom's birthday was always a special occasion. Daddy used to have a nice gift for her and we children would try our hand at creating something special too.

The busy summer days were passing and as her birthday approached I kept trying to think what I could make for her this year. John and David were making a wooden shelf with a cute little rail around it, but so far I still couldn't think of anything.

I dug through boxes of fabric scraps hoping that I would become inspired but nothing seemed to work. Then one Saturday as we were doing our weekly baking I found a recipe book that had colored photos of desserts. As I paged through it I found what I was looking for. A beautiful marbled layer cake with thick fluffy frosting.

I knew Mom had a doctors appointment a few days before her birthday which would give me the golden opportunity to have the kitchen to myself to bake the cake while she was gone and the mess cleaned away before she came home.

I took the cookbook to my room and pored over the recipe. I had visions of how pleased Mom would be when she saw and tasted the beautiful cake I was going to bake.

The day finally arrived when she had to go to her appointment. I kept watching out the window waiting for the driver to come. After what seemed like a long time I saw him appear over the hill. I told Mom he was coming and she hurried to get her bonnet and handbag and told me after I swept the kitchen floor I was free to play until it was time to peel potatoes for supper. I watched as they backed out the driveway and drove down the road.

I got the mixing bowl out and started on the cake. It wasn't long before I remembered I needed to preheat the oven. I opened the stove door that held the oven burners and pulled them out. After carefully tipping the chimneys back I turn the wick up and carefully struck a match to light them. As the flame caught the wick and started spreading around it I lowered the chimney. It got stuck a little bit and as I jiggled it to loosen it when it suddenly dropped down and snuffed my flame. I tried it again but the same thing happened. After numerous attempts I finally gave up and went down in the shop and told Daddy what my plans were and how I couldn't get the burners lit. He came and lit them for me, and after I had adjusted the wick until the flame was burning a nice blue like Mom always did I was finally ready to continue with my cake.

I showed Daddy the picture of the cake I was planning to make. He smiled and said "It looks really good," as he patted my shoulder and then went back to his work in the shop.

I glanced at the clock and was dismayed to see that I had wasted quite a bit of time trying to get the burners lit and decided I would have to cut a few corners if I wanted to have the cake cooled enough to have it frosted before Mom came home. I decided to make only one layer instead of two. It didn't take very long to make the batter, and I was feeling better about my plans again. The recipe told me to melt some chocolate chips and stir them into part of the batter. To save time I decided to just pour the chocolate chips into the batter and let them melt while the cake was baking and have a lot of cute little swirls in the cake. I poured in the chips and stirred it vigorously and then decided to pour another cupful of chips in to make it extra special.

As I poured the batter into the cake pan I had visions of Mom asking me how I ever managed to make so many little chocolate swirls in the cake, and how pleased she would be to find out how easy it was. I set the timer, and then turned to the frosting section in the cookbook to find the perfect recipe.

I wanted to try something different from the regular one Mom used to make, and it didn't take me long to find it. Lemon Flavored Icing. I got my bowl ready and dumped the powdered sugar in and added lemon juice. It wasn't turning out creamy and fluffy like I had hoped it would but I didn't have time to start another batch. The cake was now cooling in the refrigerator and I needed to get it frosted and hidden before Mom came home.

As I was washing the dishes I had used I thought of the perfect way to still make the cake beautiful. I would use food coloring. The back of the package had instructions on how to mix the colors to get a color other than the basic four. A lovely purple would look very pretty and be just the thing to help the cake become special since so far it wasn't co-operating with the one I had envisioned. I carefully measured in the drops of food coloring but instead of turning a lovely purple it turned into a sickly hideous brownish orange. I felt like crying as I looked at it.

There was no time to do anything because I heard the crunch of gravel on the driveway and when I looked out the window and saw that Mom was at home I quickly grabbed the cake and my bowl of frosting and ran upstairs to my room. I sat on the floor and poured the frosting on the cake. It was too thin and as hard as I tried to spread it evenly over the cake I soon found out it was impossible as it all wanted to pool around the edges. I hid it in one of my desk drawers and went downstairs and helped Mom get supper ready.

When her birthday arrived and I presented her with my miserable cake she smiled and beamed as if it actually looked pretty. She cut pieces for everyone. I was disappointed to see that the chocolate chips didn't melt and swirl like I intended that they should and since I had added more than double what the recipe had asked for the cake was crumbly. The icing wasn't much better since it had dried to a brittle lemony mess. Mom must have sensed that my dream cake had turned out all wrong because she asked for a second piece, commenting how nice it was to have a daughter old enough to make a cake all by herself.

I still wasn't happy with the cake, but Mom made me feel special and I vowed to make it up to her next year by making something really nice for her birthday instead of a cake.

Maple Sugar Time

One of the signs that spring was coming was when all the maple sugar camps scattered across the countryside were once again in use. There were lots of sugar maple trees in the area and many families looked forward to supplementing their income by boiling down the sap to make maple syrup every spring. It was a lot of hard work trudging through the woods drilling holes into the trees and setting up the taps and pails and then checking them every day, dumping the sap into a tank that they pulled through the woods on a sleigh and take it back to the camp where they boiled it down to maple syrup.

We didn't have very many maple trees on our little acreage so we weren't too caught up in all the action. We had our own things to do to prepare for the season. Daddy would try to make a lot of extra furniture to show at a booth in the annual Maple Festival in a nearby town.

We children had to take turns every year to go along to the festival with Mom and Daddy on Saturday. I could hardly wait until it was my turn to go. There were so many things to see. With booths filled with every imaginable craft and homemade things and of-course plenty of maple syrup and and maple candy.

In the afternoon we were able to watch the parade. I enjoyed seeing the different bands but what I looked forward to the most was the float with the Maple Queen. She always looked so pretty and happy as she rode by smiling and waving at everyone. I wished I could do that some day but knew I would never have a chance to fulfill that dream.

At school children would come and share maple candy that they had made. Recess was spent licking the pieces of sticky maple candy. Some of the more daring boys would try to chew it and would always end up with their mouth stuck shut for a while, while the others laughed at them.

Wish No Harm

Outside the kitchen there was a large concrete porch that Daddy had plans to enclose someday and turn it into a laundry room / summer kitchen. There were no railings around it so we children had to have permission before we were allowed to be on it.

Summer evenings as darkness settled in and the first few evening stars came out we enjoyed laying on our backs and watching the corner of the eaves of the attic. We never had long to wait when the first bat appeared and took a funny little leap into the air and then went flapping away dipping and turning as they searched for insects.

We would count them as the appeared and went on their nightly flight but we never did get to stay outside until they had all flown. Mom or Daddy would come to the door and tell us it's time to get ready for bed.

One day Mom and we children were getting green beans ready to can we happened to see a bat on the porch that was making it's way clumsily toward the house. Mom told David to quickly get a broom and knock it off the porch and get rid of it. David went to do as she told him and went out on the porch but instead of getting rid of the bat he just stood there and watched it as it disappeared under the siding of the house.

I was sorely displeased with him. Bats going on their nightly flight were fine, but knowing there was one were there shouldn't be gave me the shivers and I told him rather unkindly that I hoped it would be in his room tonight.

Mom heard my rant and told me that it is never wise to wish harm or anything bad to happen to anyone. I felt a little sheepish but was still not happy that David let it get away.

That evening as we once again lay on the porch and watched the bats take off on their flight I wondered where the bat was that had disappeared under the siding and if it had made it's way back to it's family.

It wasn't long before we had to get ready for bed. After having had a busy day it didn't take me long to drift off to sleep.

I woke with a start. Everything was dark, I couldn't even see any stars through my window. I was sure I had heard something. I pulled my covers up closer as I listened. Sure enough soon I heard a scratching shuffling noise and then a bump. Some more scratching and shuffling and then another bump. I froze under my covers as I realized the noise was come from the attic stairway and the attic door opened in my room.

I kept listening to the noise as I pulled the covers over my head. After a few moments of silence I carefully peeked out from the safety of my covers just as a bat swooped close by my head. I let out a terrified scream which got Daddy to come running to see what was wrong. He saw the bat and told me he would be right back as he turned and closed my door and hurried downstairs and left me cowering under my covers as I listened to the bat flutter awkwardly about my room bumping into the walls and furniture.

Daddy returned soon with his flashlight and a buggy whip that he used to knock down the bat mid flight and then carried it outside. I got up and made sure the attic door was firmly closed and went back to bed.

The next morning at the breakfast table John and David were quite amused how the bat I had hoped would visit David came and visited me. I didn't think it was very funny especially since I hadn't been the one that had let the erring bat get away in the first place.

That evening as I got ready for bed I double checked the attic door to make sure it was latched properly. But once again I was awakened by a scratching shuffling bumpy noise and I knew another bat was making it's way to my room. I jumped out of bed and hurried downstairs and knocked on Daddy's door and told him there is another bat coming down the attic stairs. I stayed downstairs until Daddy had taken care of it before I went back to my room.

Every night the same thing happened. Finally Mom asked me if I don't want to apologize to David for saying I hope a bat goes into his room. I agreed. I had been bothered by more bats than I knew could be possible and was ready to do anything that might make that those nightly terrors would stop.

The next morning I apologized. And that night for the first time in more than a week I didn't have a bat making it's way down the attic stairs to my room.

Nice Kitty

As spring came and warmer weather arrived it made tagging along with Daddy at choretime much more fun.

Along with spring arriving so did baby goats and several litters of kittens.. It was fun watching the kids play with each other as they ran and jumped around the barn and climbed the haystacks bleating happily the whole while.The baby kittens were so cute that I had a hard time leaving them in the barn with their mother.

One evening we were once again in the barn while Daddy was doing the chores. John and David were running with the kids when one of them managed to run out the barn door into the lean-to. The boys quickly followed it to bring it back to the barn. It didn't them very long to bring the kid back inside but they turned to go back outside again announcing that there is a nice black cat underneath a pallet that they want to bring into the barn.

They were gone for quite some time and then came back inside and asked Daddy to come help them that they can't get the cat to come out. Daddy went to help them and in no time they were back in the barn. What had appeared to be a cat was actually a skunk and the boys had been poking at it with a stick and tried pulling it out. The only reason they hadn't been sprayed was the skunk hadn't been able to raise it's tail.

Attic Adventures

A place that was off limits to us children and yet held so many interesting things. Our attic was filled with boxes and all manner of interesting things. It was my dream to be able to explore it to my hearts content.

Every winter Mom would clean and reorganize it since it had received many deposits during the previous year and everything needed to be put in order so she would know where to find things if she needed them.

In the evening after supper we would all bundle up in our winter coats and light several Coleman lanterns and make our way to the attic. Mom would take a chair along and sit in the middle and John and I would push and drag the boxes to her where she would look to see what was inside and then tell us where to put it.

There were boxes filled with books that she would go through to find some that we could add to our bookshelf since we could read at a higher level since the last time we had cleaned the attic. There were boxes of clothes that had to be sorted and hand me downs doled out the the happy brothers that could now wear their older siblings favorite shirt.

There were puzzles and games and box after box filled with toys. We could each choose several we wanted to add to our toy box downstairs but we had to exchange them with some we had played with the previous year. So it took a lot of thought which toys we were willing to give up in order to have some others to play with.

There were rows and rows of boxes with empty canning jars, which had to be sorted so that once canning time came the next summer we could easily find the jars we needed. Mom found large empty boxes and set them in front of the rows of jars and marked them and gave us instructions that every Saturday when we carried the weeks worth of empty jars to the attic we should put them in the correct boxes.

It took several evenings to get everything done. It had been so much fun seeing everything and now we could spend the rest of the cold winter nights with games, puzzles, and toys that we hadn't seen for a year. Next year we would put those back and choose some others, that way we never grew tired of what we had available.