Skip to main content

The Old Wagon Ruts

Have you ever wondered what it would be like out there on the Oregon Trail so many years ago?  Heading west --- heading forward to your hopes and dreams?  Leaving behind everyone and everything you owned and loved --- in some cases for always. Riding -- walking -- dreaming --- hoping --- for hours -- for days -- for months.  On and on into what seemed like nothingness.

Well -- for the last few weeks my job has been cutting and raking prairie grass in a pasture.  I love that job because I just go round and round and dream and think.  I could see, in my minds eye, two old worn ruts going on and on up through the grass into the western horizon --- so I put myself on the hard old wagon seat beside my husband --- and we were going west.  Out there on the tractor, I saw and felt the effects of being in the covered wagon as I went round and round cutting that hay.  So -- I will try to take you with me as we go west to find our dream.

You set straight and tall there beside your husband on the hard wooden seat of your "home" for many months.  It is a wagon covered with white canvas and in it is everything you own.  You are heading west --- leaving father, mother sisters and brothers -- perhaps for always.

All around you is tall grass waving in the wind --- sometimes trees --- sometimes nothing but open prairies -- with a patch of white "snow on the mountain" flowers dotting the horizon here and there -- going on and on --- as far as the eye can see.  Grass and the old ruts -- proof that other wagon trains had traveled the same route.  Behind you and in front -- you see other wagons as they rock back and forth moving slowly on. 

It is rough out there on the prairie.  Your body sways -- back and forth -- back and forth -- to the rhythm of the wagon.  Bouncing -- bumping -- jarring.  Once in awhile the old wagon wheel will fall in a hole-- bounce -- throwing you a little to the left -- straighten up -- now to the right-- bouncing --- bumping --- swaying back and forth -- as the day gets hot and the old wooden seat gets harder.  Your stomach gets a bit woozy and your back -- it is so tired from bumping back and forth.

Maybe walking would feel good for awhile.-- so down you hop -- stretching your arms and legs and moving your head this way and that -- you start to walk.  Your not dressed in shorts and a t-shirt.  Your wearing a long dress and button up high boots --- with a sun bonnet tied under your chin.  Sometimes it can be hot --- 105 with the sun shining down on you.  Still -- on you walk -- kicking up dust -- or tripping over clumps of grass.  on and on and on---

How heavenly -- when the sun gets low in the western skies.  The day starts to cool down.  They are starting to stop for the night.  You are sweaty -- dirty -- stiff and tired.  You can't just "hop in the tub" and relax.  First there is the meal to fix.  Then water to haul and dishes to wash and put away.  Where will YOU wash up?  In the creek -- or in the old tub after hauling water from the creek?  What do you do with these dirty cloths?  Put them in the "dirty pile"  -- or wear them tomorrow?

There is a special beauty -- as the sun sets in the western skies and night comes on.  All those wagons in a circle --- the lights of camp fires glowing here and there.  Little children running around glad to be stopped for the day.  The sound of the coyote -- or the song of the bull frog down at the creek -- or the sound of the locust.  You can look up into the heavens and there you see millions and millions of stars glittering down at you.  What beauty when the full moon hangs low in the eastern skies --- all orange and big.

Your bed is a mattress in the wagon among everything else.  Sometimes you sleep beside your husband -- sometimes you lay there in the dark alone -- hoping he is safe as he keeps watch through the night.

As the sun starts to tint the eastern sky -- another day is starting.  How far will you get today you ask yourself?  Will everything go well? -- or will a wagon wheel come loose -- or someone become sick -- or a baby be born into our world of grass -- and hot -- and wind ---and dirt?  You climb out the back of the wagon and your nose picks up coffee already boiling on the hot coals.  Stretching your already sore body -- you prepare for yet another day on the good old trail.

Sometimes I wonder how many little graves are along those old ruts?  How many babies were born in those covered wagons?  How many old pianos -- bed frames -- tables --- chairs -- old trunks -- set forgotten among the tall grasses?  How many dreams were crushed and gone because a wagon lost control?

Plenty -- I'm sure -- but they were brave and strong and determined.  They were able to make it through rough and hard and long days because they all had one thing in common --- a dream.








Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Chapter 21 Move Over----We're Coming

It was the last week in January and the building was complete. It sat just north and east of our house. Goodness, compared to our current little metal farrowing huts, we appeared to really be in business. It measured 24 x 80 and was brown in color with a white roof. Two grain bins sat at the north side. One held grain for the farrowing and one for the nursery. An auger tube ran from the bin into the building so you could fill your buckets inside. There was a large pit at the end where all the goody would go for storage. Inside, fourteen crates sat on top of slatted flooring. Seven on each side, with a wide aisle down the middle and an aisle behind each row of crates. At the end of the middle aisle was the door into the nursery. Four large pens lined both sides back there with feeders and automatic waters in each pen. This was where the baby pigs would come at three weeks to be weaned from momma. Everything about this building was brand new. There was a very important reason for that!...

The Heart Buds {Current}

She rocked back and forth there on the deck as the sun sank lower in the western skies. It had been one of those days that she was so happy to be alive. So happy to let her heart fly free in the warm breeze. She sat there wondering...what was happening to her? She had changed somehow. Oh yes she will forever be a farmers wife. She will always love the feel of wind in her hair, sunshine on her face, raindrops dripping off her nose. She will forever love to sit among the pasture grass on a warm summers night, and watch as the sun turns the western sky to oranges and golds. Or raise her face to let the moonbeams dance all around her, or thrill to the call of the coyote. She will always love the simple country life. She always loved the springtime on the farm. She loved to watch as tiny little buds popped out on a tree limb. She loved to see the pear trees spread their white cloud of blossoms against the dark blue sky. She loved to kneel there in the flower beds, take her hand and wipe...

Chapter 18 His First Big Step

I sat on a little chair there in the kindergarten room. Bret stood as close to me as he could get, curiously looking from one side of the room to the other. On my lap sat Kate, playing with my purse handle as she watched Mrs Miller move around her desk. We had come to visit with Mrs Miller. She would be Bret's teacher in about two weeks. Mrs Miller was an older lady and so very gentle. Her room was very colorful. There was an area where all colors of blocks sat in little containers. There was a larger area where a big chair sat in front and all around were books. I could picture little Bret sitting there with his friends, cross legged on the floor, all eyes on Mrs. Miller as she read them their favorite books. I was sure Bret would enjoy his days there with her and all his little friends. As we visited, Bret moved slowly away from me and cautiously around the room exploring here and there, but little Kate sat stuck to my lap. A few days later, Bret, Kate and I went to Wa...