Small Miracles of the Prairie
I decided to jump into the pool and try my hand at writing - My husband (who has been sooo TMOOD tolerant) decided to give it a whirl too - Needless to say his writing skills kicked my butt, so I am offering his handiwork for the enjoyment of gang - this offering simply sets up Ray & Livy down the road a bit.........
SMALL MIRACLES OF THE PRAIRIE
He stripped off another layer, this time his broadcloth shirt. He already had his coat hooked on the fence next to the gate. This early in April and the warmth could be felt in the mid-morning sun.
“Looks like a early summer.” He mumbled to himself, as was his way when he worked alone.
Wiping his face with his kerchief, he slumped into a crouch near the soil that he loved. He was in a fenced section that was planted in winter wheat. The wheat was in neat rows and was within a month of harvest.
He sure wouldn’t be alone then. All farmers in the co-op would be moving with their rented harvesters and hired help from field to field for a week, non-stop, dawn to dusk. The fields would be full.
As he stood back up and scanned the horizon off this slight rise of a field, taking in the green panorama, he had to laugh at himself. He had been reluctant to switch this field to wheat. Yes, wheat was a good money crop, but the startup expense and the danger of loss were high. Livy had helped him change his ways, although he didn’t think she knew.
He always saw that little smile and look of amusement when he talked of beans. He never tired of their joke, but it did make him think of other possibilities.
“Ah, well.” He quietly said. He pulled out his Dad’s old watch to check the time.
Ray chuckled. “Dad never had a hunch that we could grow wheat in these hills”.
He was committed now and barring hail or four weeks without rain, he should have a nice nest egg to improve the farm. Maybe even lease another 40 to plant for fall harvest. He wiped his neck again, “Heck, I could plant some more of them beans.” He stripped off his shirt and started picking his way down the next row, hoeing out the weeds.
Livy was crying. Looking at the cluttered kitchen table, she wanted to sweep it all to the floor. It was all so frustrating, waiting for the next lesson to come in the mail.
“I just can’t go this slowly.”
She sighed and leaned on the table, tilting her head back she looked toward the mailbox. Turning her head, she peered out the other window down the long dirt road. No dust, no Mr. Günter, the rural route mailman in his old T.
Livy started to clear the books and papers off the table, placing them in her “school-box”, as Ray called it. He and the kids knew not to touch it from the shriek she let out the first time she caught little Danny pawing thought it.
“Time to fix lunch” Ray would be in near noon and Danny would be up from his nap. Livy could hear Troy cooing in the next room, amusing himself in his playpen.
Livy smiled and felt a little pleased, in spite of her impatience with her correspondence school delays. Four years ago, she thought she was destined to a sad, sparse life in the prairie. Since then, she had found more life and love that she had ever found in the city.