Thursday, I was a pioneer woman.
Or at least as close to one as I’ll ever be.
First, I arose before daylight to get my daughter off to school. I
usually poke up the fire in the woodstove at this point, but with pleasant
weather we haven’t needed the heat. I prepared a nutritious breakfast (frozen
waffle) and filled her lunch pail (a purple plaid insulated bag). We saddled up
our ride (SUV) and rode off to school, eight miles away.
When I returned to the homestead, the chickens needed tending. Usually
this is the husband’s job, but he was not available this day. I fed and watered
them, then discovered a dead chicken in the coop. After examining it for cause
of death – undetermined – I tossed it out in the woods. Returning to the coop,
I gathered four brown and green eggs, and trudged back up the hill to the
house.
Death is part of life here on the frontier. This chicken was one of our
meat birds, however, so I was unhappy about losing the investment.
Next, I consulted with the well digger (more on that in a later post).
Time to bake bread! Can you see me, leaning over a floured board with
sleeves rolled up, wearing a white apron, hair in a messy bun, sweat beading my
brow as I vigorously knead dough? Oh wait, that wasn’t me. I made pumpkin bread
– no kneading required.
My bones and rheumatism told me that rain followed by cold were imminent
(those and the local weatherman), so I tied my bootlaces, left the bread baking
and ventured forth to gather firewood. We don’t own a mule or horse, despite
living in Texas. I really, really wish I could fashion a harness for Iris the dog
to help drag loads. Short of these options, I was reduced to using the
wheelbarrow. I did not have to cut or split the firewood (though I have wielded
an ax before – scary, I know), just trundle my barrow out to the piles located
here and there, load up, then return and stack logs on the wood rack.
At one point, logs and brush piles sited to slow water run-off
distracted me. I moved a few logs around . . .
. . . only to arrive back at the house and find I had come perilously
close to burning the bread. I rescued
it in the nick of time. Just a little burn smell tinged the pumpkin bread fragrance.
It dissipated quickly. No one will notice.
Lunchtime. And naptime. And a Facebook check. What? Pioneer women didn’t
have Facebook? Lord, they were deprived.
Next, I needed to plant vegetable seeds in the garden before the
aforementioned rain fell. I
gathered my gloves and seed packets, collected one of my buckets of worm dirt,
and followed the path to the vegetable garden. Usually this is my husband’s
domain, also. This day, Pioneer
Woman was in charge.
I turned the soil, pulling out weeds and mixing in dried chicken poop
and worm dirt. I carefully placed seeds for mixed lettuce greens, spinach,
turnips and Swiss chard. I offered a benediction over the garden, something
like this: “Please grow. Rain’s
coming. Good luck.”
In the middle of planting, I saddled the SUV again, retrieved my
daughter from school and fed her a picnic supper, and delivered her to an
evening commitment.
Final chore of the day was to prepare a home-cooked meal for my
hard-working husband who had been out laboring in the fields all day. Or maybe
he was riding on an airplane, returning from a business trip. On the menu: turkey tenderloin topped with pecans,
sautéed spinach and salad. Welcome home, honey!
My day of pioneering was fun. When I imagine doing all that and much,
much more in a long skirt and bonnet, with no electric appliances, grocery
stores, neighbors, gas-powered transportation or indoor bathrooms – jumpin’ Jehosaphat.
I’m happy to be a pioneer woman on my own terms, assisted by modern
conveniences.
Favorite spot in
the garden:
A prior resident planted this Moses’ boat (Tradescantia spathacea, I think!) in small beds under trees,
and they are flourishing with no attention from me. They have been
doing well with our recent rains, but their days are numbered as surely a freeze is near.
Other names for this beauty are Moses-in-a-boat, Moses-in-a-basket, boatlily or oyster plant. According to Dave's Garden, it is invasive in Florida, and contact with leaves can cause an allergic reaction.
