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Chapter 9 Making A House A Home

Snow lays on the ground all around our little house beside the creek. The cottonwoods raise their bare branches to the sky. Smoke rises in a straight line from the chimney and disappears into the gray night.

Inside, little Bret has been tucked into his bed and is fast asleep. I sit curled up next to Mark on the couch talking softly. It has been one week now since we moved into our new home.

Like a lot of women, I had concerns. Mark was trying so hard to make it here on the farm, but it was small and we had come up against a few hard blows. I don't know, I just hate debt! It makes me nervous for some reason. I turned to him and whispered "I'll try really hard to watch my spending. We can have a big garden, and Grandpa gives us milk, and we could butcher one of our calves. I think we can get our house paid for, don't you?"

Mark gave me a squeeze and whispered back into my ear. "You know something...you worry way to much! We will work together and yes we will make it. I'm sure of it. Now let's get to bed, okay?"

When I came into the kitchen the next morning carrying a sleepy looking Bret, Mark already had the tea kettle whistling and eggs frying. He is our breakfast cook. From his childhood on a ranch, it was very important to have a big breakfast.

I pulled up the little highchair, put Bret in, and put his little plate and spoon on the tray. He busied himself by banging on his plate like a drum as I helped Mark set on the pancakes, eggs, bacon, and oatmeal. It was always fun for us to watch Bret grab his pieces of pancake with his little hand and put them in his mouth. He loved Daddy's pancakes!

I cleaned the table and filled the dishwasher while Bret and Mark went to the basement to stock the wood stove for the day. Wow, it was a treat to have a dishwasher! And that wood stove! That heat soaks right into your bones.

"I know it is pretty cold out this morning but do you think you and Bret could help me feed the cows this morning?" Mark asked coming up the stairs one at a time, little "hotshot" climbing them all by himself.

It wasn't long before we all three had on our coats, caps, gloves, and boots and were heading down the snow packed road to help Daddy. Bret and I sat there snuggled together, our breath coming out in little puffs.

"Where are we going anyway?" I asked, noticing Mark had turned the opposite direction from Grandpa's place.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you....we are starting to use our feed that is in the neighbor's silo. I finished out Grandpa's yesterday."

The neighbor was a nice retired farmer that had an old upright silo setting empty. He was willing to let Mark use it last summer. It was a couple miles to the north but we needed room. We were so thankful to him.

We made our way around the section and pulled into the drive. Mark put the pickup in four wheel drive as we made our way back past an old building, through some dried up weeds and through the snow, and pulled up beside the old silo shoot and turned off the engine.

I turned to Bret who was standing in the middle, his hands on the back of the seat, looking all around as if he owned the whole business. "Mommy and daddy are going to get out and fill the pickup with food for the cows. You be a good boy and help us by staying in here where it's warm ok. I'm going to be just back there," I said pointing out the back window. "You can watch me, and I'll wave at you. "

Bret turned around and looked out, his little hands on the back of the seat. He bounced up and down like there wasn't a tomorrow. He was so full of energy all the time. I slipped out the door.

"Here I am....see me?" I hollored, knocking on the window. Bret just looked at me and continued to bounce.

Plop..plop Mark threw down forks full of silage. Steam rose around me because it was hot from fermenting. It smelled so sweet and good. I bent over and with my fork leveled it out in the pickup, stomping it down, looking through the window to make sure Bret was ok. It was so cold out here, but Bret seemed to be finding plenty to do hopping around in the cab from one side to the other. I shook my hands and blew into the glove. They were so cold they were about numb.

"It's full honey!" I holler up the shoot. "I'm getting in the pickup. My hands are freezing."

"Be there in a sec," came the answer back to me.

I reach for the handle, dancing around to keep warm. "Oh no, Bret!" I ran around to the other side. "Oh great...you little silly! Mark we're locked out!"

There he stands in the middle of the seat, his little hands resting on the back. He has a mischevious smile in his little eyes, as he looks out at us, our breath coming out in smoke.

"Bret, you need to unlock the door....come here," Mark says in a calm low voice, motioning for him to come to the driver's side. "Can you pull up on that little knob? Come here."

Bret crawls as fast as he can to the other side. He just sits there looking at us. "Does he know what to do?" I ask, my arms wrapped around me.

"He locked them, so he can unlock them. Bret, help daddy. Come over here and pull up on that knob."

After about a minute or so he crawls really slowly over to the steering wheel. "That's a boy, now pull up on that knob," Mark says pointing to the lock.

Little hands go to the knob and he pulls up hard. Mark opens the door fast and swings in to catch Bret and give him a bear hug, and he reaches over to unlock my side.

"Well young man, I guess you taught us a lesson. I'll take the keys next time!"

When the cold winter turns to spring, life starts again. Up at Grandpa's place, newborn calves ran here and there, their little tails flying in the air. Momma sows were laying in the shed, their tummy's once again big with little babies. Bret always liked going with daddy up to feed. He thought it was smart to ride in the tractor.

With spring, life became a busy time for Mark. There was the corn crop to get planted. He was also building two small portable, individual sheds to move down to our "farm". He hoped to have them done so we could farrow here instead of Grandpa's that spring! We were excited! Our little "five acers" and our house was becoming a "farm" slowly but surely.

We had moved our little maple tree down and planted it in front of the picture window. This little tree was given to us from our dear friends Tom and Yuvone when we first moved to the area. It was special. It still stands big and strong just outside the picture window forty years later. Now days little grandchildren have climbed its strudy branches. We borrowed Grandpa's tiller and worked up a little place behind the house for our first little garden.

Sometimes I would work the field while Mark was working on the little sow sheds. Bret would either be with Mark at the shed or sometimes he would ride with me on the tractor. We had a tractor with a cab by then and I remember making a little bed out of blankets on the floor and he would take his nap there as I worked back and forth in the field. I would have lots of fun making that little "bed" just right for our little boy.

In early May, Mark visited the bank and made our first payment. We had sold our yearling calves in April. I was so proud of him! We had saved enough that he could pay interest plus one thousand dollars on the principal. We still had one final payment to Grandpa C on those cows so we couldn't pay too much extra on the house.

Someday...some wonderful day the house would be ours! Until then, we worked side by side, little by little, one day at a time, with hope always in our hearts.

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