MY OZARKS JOURNAL

 

Calvin Vos was a good friend of mine since high school. I would often visit him as he worked in his family's dairy barn right in the middle of Sultan, Washington. Our milk was supplied to my family from his farm. He and I delivered the "Everett Herald" newspaper to Sultan's population. Calvin's route was the east side of town, and mine was the west.

He was two years behind me in school, and I was in the Army when he graduated. By the time I saw him again, he and Carol were married. After I married Micki in 1975, she and Carol became good friends. By and by they moved to the Missouri Ozarks, where they had a dairy farm on 140 acres. We would correspond by letters, and Calvin would tell me how nice it was there. Eventually he and Carol offered to give us a corner of their land if we moved there.

Meanwhile I was growing very discontent at my job as finance clerk in the Bellingham City Hall. Another good friend, Michael Robinson, and I would often meet to play chess and have lunch across the street from the City Hall; and during what would be our last game, I said, "I don't think I'll go back to work after lunch." Michael was shocked, and tried to talk me out of my whim. But the Robinsons soon provided their garage for our garage sale to help us afford taking the Vos' offer and moving to Missouri. (My wife sold my favorite umbrella for a nickel.) 

My mother, who loved and often worried about us, actually brought us a car—a Ford Maverick—so we would have decent transportation, since our old car was having clutch trouble. And so my wife Micki, our three-year-old son Leif and I drove to our new land between Marshfield and Seymour, Missouri.

This is my journal:

October 15, 1982

Calvin and I have been cutting logs in the woods for our cabin. It'll have the bark still on it (since we don't have the time to strip the logs) and will be chinked with grass and mud—then chinked again after the logs shrink. We have a couple acres with a spring and a creek. The spring water is being tested right now in Springfield. We plan to build a spring-house for food storage, too.

Me trimming branches off the oak logs

Leif trimming branches off the oak logs

The people here are unbelievably friendly and simple and real. And nearby there are many Amish people, and so a lot of old-fashioned supplies and equipment. Calvin doesn't have a tractor but horses instead, and our cabin logs will be hauled by horses.

The country here is beautiful—comparable to Wisconsin farms. But there's a lot of dirt here, and, at this time of year especially, a lot of flies. It'll take some getting used to—especially for me.

Last night and today I'm exhausted from working in the woods, and so got somewhat depressed and discouraged, but I know that it's all good for me finally to work hard simply to stay alive. It's funny—all my life I've wanted to live in a log cabin, and now I have to live in one. Meanwhile we're living out of the car and sleeping in the pup-tent, and accepting Calvin & Carol's wonderful hospitality as little as possible. It's a challenge.

Micki just ran in to tell me that she just bought all the windows (with frames) for the cabin at a garage sale—two 4'x7' windows and two 2'x3' windows—for only $3! God is taking care of us, no matter how much I do or don't realize it.

Things are cheap here. A 3-bedroom house with 1½ baths costs $10,000. A cup of coffee with refills costs just 25¢ in any cafe. People don't make much income here either, but with freelance writing that won't affect us. 

Sure will be glad when the cabin is done.

October 17, 1982

This isn't easy; I'm typing in the car with the typewriter on my lap. Calvin & Carol suggested that I type in their house anytime I want, but I thought it would be nice to have a quiet time here. Leif and Levi are playing together by the firewood in front of the car, beside a walnut tree. Leif just put an acorn from a nearby oak down Levi's neck and now they're both laughing about it. Calvin, Peter and Hans are milking their twenty-five cows. And Carol and Micki are finishing up canning applesauce for the day and are preparing supper.

Earlier today, Calvin and I took his largest work horse, a Belgium named “Maude,” out to the woods on the hill and she dragged out the logs we had cut for our cabin. We have 34 logs cut and piled, and 26 more to go. Work horses can’t be beat! No tractor could have made it into those woods between the trees, but Maude went anywhere, and is so strong that Calvin says that dragging two logs at a time is “child’s play” to her. After all the logs are cut and dragged out, we’ll lift them onto the work wagon that Calvin bought from an Amish friend for $175, and both Maude and “Owl” (the other half of the team) will haul all of them at once to our land—about a quarter of a mile from Calvin & Carol’s house, but from the upper field the entire trip will be almost a mile over rugged ground.

Looking toward the Vos place from our place. Our very large garden will be where I'm standing. You can see a portion of their barn roof.

Meanwhile, Micki & I have been clearing and leveling a path to the home site. The logs are white oak. The cabin will be 8x12 feet—same size as our cabin at Lake Stevens, Washington—but will have a semi-enclosed full front porch, and a larger loft that will extend over the porch. The loft windows will face the sunrise and sunset, and we’ll have two huge windows on the main floor and a window in the door.

The results of the water test were “questionable,” meaning that the water should be treated by boiling or chlorination if used; but Calvin pointed out that they like to discourage the use of springs, because many farmers have capped them for watering their stock and have decreased water supply to rivers by doing so. So once the spring starts running a little better I’m going to take another sample and send it in as a well sample to see if the results are the same. If they are, I’ll go ahead and build a little water tower, to hand-pump the water into a tank where it can be treated by chlorine and gravity-fed to the cabin. And of course the quality of water won’t affect the workings of a spring-house for storing and keeping food.

For right now, I’m not concerned with electricity, and we may not get any for some time; but Calvin told us today that it cost them only about $10 to get it hooked up, and that here you only pay for what you use, and no more. As a matter of fact, you read your own meter! I can’t get over how cheap everything is here.

Last night a bunch of people came over from Calvin & Carol’s church and we all sat around a campfire and then went on a hayride on the work wagon, with Maude and Owl pulling. We didn’t go on any roads, but just around part of the 140 acres, in the dark, with no light but the brilliant stars. When I asked Calvin how he was going to see where we were going, he said, “I’ll just leave that up to the horses; they can see in the dark.” It was fun!

Micki just charged out of the house with Leif and ran to the outhouse. Never a dull moment around here. They don’t have a bathroom—just an old outhouse. We brush our teeth in the kitchen sink (their whole downstairs is a kitchen) and take showers from a hose hooked up in the milk-house. After a few claustrophobic and chilly nights in the pup-tent, we’re back to sleeping on the Vos’ floor...much nicer.

The other day Calvin and I went to borrow an ice cream maker from Randy & Nancy—an Amish couple with a large family. It was my first time in an Amish house. Their farms here are known by the windmill that pumps the water and by the simple architecture of their large, two-story, rectangular houses—and of course by the absence of cars and tractors. Randy & Nancy and their extremely well-behaved children were all dressed very modestly and plain. The inside (as well as any other side) of their home is very simple and plain, and unbelievably beautiful because of the simplicity. They treated me to some delicious molasses cookies. Despite theological or philosophical reasons for their lifestyle, the Amish people are experts at practicality, including the way they dress. Calvin says they have a clothing store nearby, and I plan to invest in some good country-life clothes when I need new clothes. What I have is kind of uncomfortable for working in the woods. For instance, burs keep getting into my shoes, and here I can get away with wearing suspenders; I think they’d be more comfortable.

Well, the milking machines are off, and I think it’s about suppertime, so I’ll quit for now and will hopefully write more this evening.

Beans and corn bread. Good stuff. Food is different around here, too. Calvin & Carol are no longer strict vegetarians, but they eat meat seldom and only when they crave it. And they eat sweets sometimes, but regularly they’re still very health-conscious with food. Instead of syrup, there’s either honey straight from the hives on their land, or sorghum straight from the neighboring farms. The other day Calvin went over and helped Randy cut sorghum, then they hauled it by horse power to be pressed and boiled down at Sammy Schwartz’s place (another Amish man). I like sorghum, but prefer maple syrup.

Although there are poisonous snakes and black widows here, Calvin has never seen any. He has seen the fiddleback spider, though; which is another name for the brown recluse. There are few deer here, but many rabbits and possums, and there are signs that at least one coyote has been on our two acres since we moved here. There are thousands of oak trees around, and hickory, and walnut, and a vicious tree called the locust three, with big, sharp spikes on it. If a twig falls from this tree with thorns on it—which is common—the spikes are strong enough to lame cattle or pierce right through the sole of a shoe and into a foot. The blackjack oak is here, too, with gnarly branches that reach out and grab you (it seems) as you pass by. Heavy grapevines hang from trees, so strong that we can swing on many like a rope swing. And I like the taste of the sour wild grapes. There are also poke berries here, that are as inviting as wild grapes, but very poisonous (although you can make a salad from the leaves; you’ve probably heard of poke salad). 

There are many turtles around, too; the other day I saw three box turtles while walking in the woods. There are snapping turtles here, too. Today Calvin caught a lizard running up a tree. It was moving sort of slow because it was cold; but after Calvin warmed it up in his hands the lizard ran so fast that we couldn’t have caught it again if we wanted to. While opening up our spring a little yesterday, I caught a crayfish (“crawdad”)—ugly thing.

The people here are so friendly! Everybody waves. If you go into a cafe, you can expect a friendly conversation. While we’ve been working on the land, we’ve been parking the car alongside the road (a dirt road; for miles around, the roads are just dirt roads) in the grass, and it leans a little with the slope and looks sort of like we ran off the road accidentally. Everybody who passes by stops to ask if we need help. Two boys on a big tractor passed then backed up and said, “Wudder you doin’?”

“We’re building a cabin in the woods, and this is the closest thing we have to a driveway so far.”

“You’ns gonna live in there?”

“Uh huh. I hope we can finish the cabin before winter.”

“I kin see why!” Silent pause. “Well, guess we better be on our way. Jes thought ya might need some help.”

“Thank you.”

They waved and sped off down the dusty road.

We went into Marshfield, and the lady at the Bible bookstore gave Leif a yellow eraser shaped like a snowman. The people at the Hallmark shop gave him a flower. And the people at the restaurant gave him a Tootsie Roll Pop. We went to the nice little library, and a man named Ed talked to me for awhile while Micki and Leif were downstairs in the restroom below the foyer. As he was leaving, he ran into Micki at the inside front door, reached out his hand and said, “Mrs. Lund, welcome to Marshfield.” Micki walked up to me all red-faced—not used to all the politeness. It’s almost embarrassing.

As time goes by, we’re getting to bed earlier and are getting up earlier. With all the work to do, we can’t afford to waste daylight. Calvin & Carol go to bed between 8:30 and 9:00 and get up between 4:30 and 5:00.

October 18th

Well, I went to bed at 10:00 and got up at 7:00. Calvin is already done milking. Everybody is up. I’ve got a cold. So does Leif and Hans. Peter is getting ready for school. Carol is making breakfast. Later today, Calvin and I plan to cut more logs, and maybe even haul them to the site.

If you cross the Lund River and walk deeper into our land, and turn around toward the cabin site, this is what you see. In the spring the leaves will be back on these trees. The "branch" in the upper left foreground is a wild grape vine. I love to eat wild grapes; they taste sort of like tangy blueberries.

Besides freelance writing (after the cabin is built), I’m applying for a part-time job at the library in Marshfield. There’s no position open now, but if I keep it up, there should be one eventually. The people there are really friendly. With writing, I’ll have to go there often anyway. And Calvin gave me another idea for a money-making sideline. Although the Amish people drive buggies and wagons, they are always looking for people willing to drive them longer distances in a car. Sometimes they have to go to Springfield, for example, and can’t very well take a horse and buggy all that way and into a busy city. So they hire a car and driver for 30¢ per mile!  To Springfield and back would be $18. If nothing else, it would probably pay for gas and car servicing.

Correction: Calvin and I didn’t go to Randy & Nancy’s farm to borrow an ice cream maker but an applesauce maker. Carol and Micki just finished the project—98 quart jars of applesauce!

Breakfast is ready.

There, I'm full. Calvin is off taking Peter to school. Carol and Levi are getting colds, too. Leif's got it the worst so far. Seems like everyone's getting or got a cold—but Calvin, who says that people get colds if they don't work hard enough or get enough fresh air. Building the cabin should cure my cold.

There's no TV here (on the farm), no radio, no newspapers. The world's problems are somewhere over the horizon. The "Capper's Weekly" will probably be the only source of news we'll have. That's fine with me.

Some more things we want to do with our land is to build a larger, more permanent house as we can afford it, right behind the log cabin (or maybe across the creek), build a foot bridge across the creek, build a car port, make a gate to the land with a sign over it, have a large garden, clear out some trees to have views of the neighboring fields, build a couple little tree-houses with a suspension bridge between, etc.

The country around here is beautiful—dirt roads and open rolling hills with woods scattered here and there—no large evergreens, a few small cedars, but mainly oak trees. In the winter, it will look pretty bare. Every day has been sunny since we arrived, except for a short drizzle one morning that turned into a sunny day later. The breezes have been cool and the nights chilly. But every day is made for cutting logs.

The farm is an adventure for Leif. There are cows, heifers, two mares and a colt, chickens, ducks, geese, calves, cats, and a dog with a litter of puppies; and, best of all, kids—farm kids who have good values, who do scores of chores, who obey their parents without question. I can already see a change in Leif. Micki's adapting to country life like a breeze. 

Farm life agrees with Micki. Here she is with Carol. Carol's baby is due to be born in February.

I'll be much better after the cabin is built. I feel awkward living off of someone else. Calvin & Carol just give and give, and never ask for anything in return. When they help someone make a new start, they don't kid around. Carol regularly adds three places to the table, and Calvin works hours each day in the woods and teaches me how to build a log cabin, a spring-house, and tells me about the area and its nature. It's neat to build a cabin when the blueprint is nothing more than two men hunkering down writing on the dirt with sticks and sitting on logs discussing different methods and ideas.

Well, I guess I'll close here and get this letter mailed today. Calvin should be ready soon to go back to the woods with his chainsaw—the only modern invention used in building this cabin.

October 20, 1982

Last week I bought a shovel at an auction for $1.50. After using it to clear ground for our tent and our cabin, and dig out the spring, today I was digging holes for the cabin's foundation stones and broke it right on the metal part. Calvin says I can use his shovel.

Beginning the foundation holes

Yesterday, Owl—Calvin's younger work horse (has been pulling for only about six weeks)—dragged the last of the sixty logs out of the woods. Next step is for Calvin and me to lift all sixty logs onto the wagon.

Today Leif and I went into Marshfield to give the library my job application, and to have the car radiator checked for coolant. It's able to withstand temperatures down to -40°F, so I don't have to worry.

After Marshfield, we went out into the country and down a long dirt road to Fannie's Dry Goods Store at an Amish farm. It's mainly for Amish customers, but they welcome everyone. WHAT A NEAT STORE! And it was fun talking with Fannie—my first long conversation with an Amish person. After seeing a zillion things I want to buy eventually, I got some old-time medicine for colds and such—since we all have colds. For a total of $3.02, I bought one fluid ounce of Poho Oil Carminative—powerful stuff—good for asthma, burns, colds, cough, diarrhea, earache, flu, hay-fever, headache, mastitis, rheumatism, arthritis, sinus disorder, sore throat, stomach and bowel trouble, and vaporizing. And it works! As strong as it is, it better work!

During a conversation with Fannie, I asked her if it's true that Amish people hire drivers, and she told me that there's a van driver they hire for 30¢ per mile and a car driver they pay 25¢ per mile. I told her I'd be willing to drive them for 25¢ per mile, and she took down my name and phone number, etc. Then, to my surprise, she asked if I'd be willing to come there at 3 o'clock tomorrow to take her and a friend to Seymour to shop for two weddings next week. An Amish wedding is a big event! Then she put my notice up beside her store door for all to see. I'm in business!

Calvin & Carol gave us a neat book called "Toward the Sunrise" by Donna Sellers Rickabaugh—a true story about a couple who moved from Hawaii to this county in Missouri. It should be interesting to read.

I never had any idea of what I was getting into when we moved here. I knew about having to build something to live in, and living a sort of pioneer-style life for a while with little money. But I didn't know about the great change in people—the philosophical differences, different attitudes and values. It seems like people here take God for granted and don't need to be convinced that He exists. Stores are a luxury. People work hard. Days are long and calendars are ignored. People work to survive. Being bored just doesn't happen and is even a silly thought. For as far as one can see, there are farmers who live off their land as much as they can. I have never seen people work as hard as they do here. I didn't expect this, and it's probably the biggest lesson I've had in life. As I walk a quarter mile down a dirt road, with the red sun sinking behind the field beside me and a broken shovel over my shoulder, with winter coming and three-score white oak logs lying in the upper field, life hits me in the face, and I love it and fear it.

Well, it's after 8 p.m.—time for another drop of Poho Oil Carminative before going to bed. Tomorrow Calvin is going to help Randy with the sorghum, and I'll finish digging holes for the foundation stones and gather large stones from the creek bed. A coyote visited our land since day-before-yesterday—feces filled with persimmon pits.

October 23, 1982

It's Saturday morning, and we're going to church. Calvin & Carol have been going to the Seventh-Day Adventist Church for years now, but this is probably the last Saturday they'll be attending it. They're beginning to disagree with some of its doctrine and the sermons they hear each week, and so will be either worshiping at home or "church-hopping" until they find another. Next week I plan on visiting the Evangelical Methodist Church in Marshfield. By the way it sounds, it's like the church I grew up in. Since we're so far into the country though, we may end up worshiping at home or in other people's homes each week, as well as have a daily worship time for the family.

After the service today, we're all going over to someone else's house for dinner and cheesecake. Mmm.

About the cabin size, this will only be our temporary home until we build a larger one that will house all the things we left in Washington. Then we can either use this one for a guest house, my study and storage, a chicken house, a horse stable, or whatever. Meanwhile, it's our alternative to a smaller tree house, so actually it's quite luxurious. It'll be the same length and width dimensions as the Lake Stevens cabin Micki & I lived in for our first year of marriage, but this one will have a full upstairs—loft-style but with height enough to walk in it—and a full front porch (5'x12') which, if needed, can be partially closed in. It'll also have two very large windows (about 4'x5') downstairs, that will open and have screens, and two smaller windows (about 2'x3') upstairs, also openable with screens. Instead of sitting in a damp, dark, wooded area, it'll sit in a little, sunny clearing, so it'll be warmer, dryer and brighter. And it will only have to house the things we took with us in the car, plus whatever else it needs and has room for, so we won't be cramped. It'll be nice, and fun to build, since we have very little money and will have to be creative. This next week we'll actually be putting up the walls. Hooray!

Peter and Hans are watching me type and are fascinated with the typewriter. They've never watched one work before. Correction: Peter has typed on one before, but is still fascinated with how it works. I feel like I have a space-age invention or something.

Meanwhile, Micki is sewing on Carol's treadle machine, Carol & Calvin are bathing Levi by the sink, and Leif is doing daredevil leaps off the rocking chair onto our pile of blankets. The milkman has come and is pumping the milk from the milk-house into his truck. It's another nice sunny day, after another cold frosty night. We've had only one tiny sprinkle and one thunderstorm since we came here. Every day other than that has been warm and sunny, usually with a cool wind. Good working weather.

Yesterday I helped Calvin and Randy unload 250 bales of hay from a truck and trailer into Calvin's barn. Both of them tossed the 80 lb. bales around like they were nothing and they weren't even sweating (and they had just finished loading the truck before that!), but I was grunting and groaning and panting and stumbling and dripping sweat all over the place. Oh well, if we can lift 250 bales of hay, we can lift 60 logs. And this hay will last only about 12 days—then he needs another load. Oooooh!

I've got two jobs here now. Gleason Ledyard of Christian Literature International in Oregon, translator of the New Life Testament, has sent me some material to begin writing a 365-day devotional book. We'll be working out a per-page payment, if he likes my work. And if he does like it, he still wants me to begin putting the entire Old Testament into an 850-word vocabulary, beginning with Psalms. It'll be uncomfortable to begin any of this, though, until our cabin is built. 

My other job is a car-driver-for-hire for the Amish people. My notice is beside the door, on the wall in Fannie's Dry Goods Store on an Amish farm. So far I've taken just Fannie herself and a-friend-of-hers-from-Indiana to Seymour and back for a shopping trip for two big weddings this next week. It was fun. Fannie has a strong German-Swiss accent so is kind of hard to understand, but is very nice and a good conversationalist. She bought me a candy bar for a tip. The trip totaled just twelve miles, so at 25¢/mile I got $4.00.

While at her store, though, I bought the "Schwartzs' Song-Book"—a beautiful hardcover songbook of lyrics compiled by an Amish couple in Indiana, full of Christian and old-time songs, yodels, some German songs, and even some tongue-twisters for fun, such as, "Frank threw Fred three free throws," and, "If  Sammy Slacker split six slick slim slender saplings, where are the six slick slim slender saplings that Sammy Slacker split?" Many songs I know, including "Love Lifted Me," "The Old Rugged Cross," "Clementine," Christmas songs, etc., but there are many I don't know and hope to learn the tunes eventually.

The Amish people love to gather together to sing. I can't see myself ever becoming Amish, but these beautiful people sure have a handle on good values and I sure hope to be influenced by them. They have an excellent set of reading books, too, from first through eighth grades, that I plan to get for Leif (and me). And the combination of Calvin's work horses and talk about the standard-bred horse, the local Amish blacksmith and the buggy shop, and the miles and miles of empty, peaceful country roads around here, and the town of Seymour that welcomes horse-drawn vehicles, convince Micki & me to get a horse and buggy (and wagon) someday.

Later... We just got back from church, dinner and cheesecake (with blueberries on it). It was a nice, relaxing visit. On the way back we saw that near us is a grass fire—another reminder that we don't always run our own lives and situations. Especially during the hot seasons, these fires are common here and can be very damaging. Right now the smoke is sort of in the direction of where the logs are lying in the upper field. It's further away, though, but it still gives me an uneasy feeling. Besides being a humbling threat, speaking optimistically, these fires provide another opportunity for people here to join together. People cooperate with each other a lot here, in equipment, building, teaching, and in survival.

Well, I've still got a cough, so I guess I'll stop to take some more Poho Oil Carminative. There, did it. That stuff sure is potent! One drop on the back of my tongue not only opens even the sinuses I don't have, but makes my eyes water.

The retirement-funds check from my former Bellingham City Hall job didn't arrive today, but mail is kind of slow here, and I can't cash it until Monday anyway. This money will not only make our creditors very happy, but is coming just in time to use in last touches on our cabin. If I work hard, it may be finished within a couple weeks—at least to live in.

We might have a dog. I don't want a house dog—because of hairs and fleas—but we might have a porch dog. When we arrived here, Calvin & Carol's dog, Lottie, had had a litter of puppies. After all my "no's" and "no way's," I meandered out into the barn and gazed upon the whimpering batch of blacks, whites and browns, until I sort of took to them. They're a mixture of Rhodesian Ridgeback, Shepherd and other kinds, but mostly look like coon hound mongrels—good dogs for log cabins in the woods. Out of the batch, I picked the one that's mostly white, with three big black spots on the back and various other black markings, but with a brown muzzle...the kind of dog you'd always recognize. He's a male, too. I'm still not certain, but we might have a dog. A boy should grow up with a dog. Leif says his name should be "Spot." It would be nice to sit on the porch of our log cabin, rocking in our bent-hickory rocking chair beside our dog, Spot. And of course we'd train him well.

Yesterday I went over to the land with Calvin's chainsaw and cut a lot of trees and branches away to make room for the horse wagon, but I have yet to drag the stuff off the path, so guess I'd better go do it before tomorrow, when we'll bring the logs down.

MOVING TO MISSOURI

(Tune of "Wabash Cannon Ball"—made up by Mahlon N. Schwartz)

January second "1968"

Dear friends and relatives have started to make

Their move to Missouri many miles away

This big and cruel world changes faster each day.

By the side of the Ozarks, Seymour is the town

Close friends and your loved ones will not be around

Tearful and sad how funny it will seem

The moving to Missouri just seems like a dream.

Twenty some families the young and the old

Their farms and their loved homes will have to be sold

The bunkerhill area will sure look blurry

After all those people have moved to Missouri.

The money it takes is quite a big sum

To move so far away sure ain't no fun

Many people come to give you a friendly helping hand

And wish you good luck to your far and distant land.

From Adams to Seymour many miles apart

Many relatives and friends will have an aching heart

We'll wish you the best and happiness to all

And the best luck to everyone till God makes His call.

October 25, 1982

Yesterday, Calvin and I loaded and unloaded two trips of logs and Maude and Owl twice pulled heavy loads to our land. Each load was about three tons, not counting the weight of the heavy wagon. They rolled it over rocky ground, down hills, up hills, through water, through dust, between tight squeezes, around tight corners and through stickers and sharp locust branches. There are now sixty white oak logs piled right next to the cabin site, waiting for the foundation stones, which could be laid today if all goes well.

Owl and Maude resting en route to the cabin site with half the logs. It doesn't look like much, but not counting the wagon the load of logs weighed about three tons. Owl has been pulling for just six weeks; Maude for six years.

The Vos Family on the load of logs: Calvin (petting Lottie), Hans, Carol with Levi on her lap, and Peter.

I've never seen horses work so hard. They flexed every muscle and heaved to start the wagon moving, and dripped with sweat en route. Calvin stopped them for several rests along the way. Maude kept scraping her leg on the wagon tongue until the cloth, that Calvin had wrapped around the tongue to help protect Maude, was red with blood. It was quite an adventure; and I was so tired after it was over that I fell onto a bed upstairs and took a nap, but after about only an hour I was awakened by my sore hands.

The retirement check should arrive today, just in time to put a roof over our heads. When it comes, I'll call our creditors and make them happy, and go to Marshfield to start a little account, get some money orders, and sell some walnuts. Calvin & Carol have some walnut trees and Micki collected the fallen ones. In Marshfield they pay $8 per hundred pounds for walnuts. Then we'll split the profit 50/50 with the Vos'.

Yep, guess we'll have a dog...Spot. Haven't seen too much of him yet; he just opened his eyes a few days ago. He's ¼ Rhodesian Ridgeback (bred for hunting lions), ¼ German Shepherd, and ½ Coonhound. He'll mostly be an outside dog—a porch dog—to watch the place; but we'll let him in now and then.

Just learned something else from the Amish. Flies are bad here—especially this time of year when the weather's turning colder and they want to come into a warm house. Every time the door is opened, several flies come in, until they're all over in the house. Well, the Amish people hang a big piece of material over the doorway, and when one pushes the cloth aside, it chases away the flies while the door is being opened and closed. Calvin & Carol put some material over the doorway a couple days ago, and although a few flies still do get in of course, it sure does the trick.

Well, we have two more foundation holes to dig for the porch, so guess I'd better go do it.

October 26th

Micki & I were over digging the holes, and here comes Calvin, riding the sled with Owl pulling. On the sled were several huge rocks to use in the foundation. He and I rode back on the sled while Owl trotted—an exciting experience! And we picked up stuff for making cement and trotted back. Then Calvin had some other things to do, so told us how to mix cement. So, for the first time in my life, I mixed and poured cement—a layer in the bottom of each of the six foundation holes. Micki and Hans and Leif helped, too. It was harder than I thought it would be (the work, that is; the cement hasn't completely dried yet). It was almost dark when we finished yesterday. From here, we lay stones, with mortar, until we have strong pillars with even tops about a foot off the ground.

The check did come yesterday, so I've mailed money orders paying off everybody but about $800 on the Everett Credit Union debt and, of course, the mobile home debt (which, if or when the trailer over sells, the equity will pay off the credit union debt). Then I opened a savings account at the Webster County Bank, holding $500 for the cabin, etc.

Carol's parents, sister and nephew are here from Michigan, but before I go on I've got to go with Micki into Marshfield to sell walnuts, return library books, check on how to continue my isoniazid prescription here, get some photos developed, etc. Be back later.

Micki and Hans selling walnuts at MFA that they picked up off the ground around Vos' farm. They ordinarily pay $8 per 100 lbs. of hulled walnuts. The men behind them are hulling the tons of walnuts that people bring in.

I'm back. Yesterday at about 7 p.m., Carol's parents, sister and nephew arrived from Michigan. Despite Calvin & Carol's assurance that it was not at all necessary, Micki & I decided to go out for the evening and leave them to have a nice visit alone together the first evening. So, the three of us went to Springfield. Not finding any good movies playing, we wound up at Chuck E. Cheese's—a neat pizza place aimed at children (and us). There's one in Lynnwood, Washington, too. It's like Disneyland! with robot-powered characters entertaining on stage, and scores of coin-operated games of all kinds, powered either by quarters or tokens, which you receive when you buy some food. Our favorite place in this eatery is the ball room—a room walled in by a net, in which there's a heavily padded walkway around a swimming pool. But instead of water in the pool, there are really light plastic balls, so nobody can drown—even if they stay under for hours—and kids can dive in just as if it were water. And the balls are light enough to throw at each other without hurting anyone. Only little kids are allowed in the ball room, and Leif was ecstatic. He pretended like he was drowning, and an older boy "saved" him. He threw balls at everyone, and jumped into the pile again and again. It was fun to watch. And the pizza was good, too. We sneaked back into Calvin & Carol's after everyone had gone to bed, and fell fast asleep. Us country folk sure get tired fast when we burn the night oil. We managed to stay awake until eleven! And slept in until six!

Carol's family is very nice, just like Carol. Her folks are retired now; her father used to be a tool-and-die maker—a fascinating profession; it was his life's work. They brought a tent trailer with them, so there's no problem with places to sleep while they're here. I think they'll be here about three days.

We went to Marshfield. Leif stayed with Calvin & Carol, and Hans came with us. Everything was taken care of; and not only did I get the isoniazid prescription taken care of, but the Webster County Health Department, an antique office in the basement of the old County Courthouse, gave me three months' worth—all the pills I need to finish off the requirements! In Bellingham they would give me only a month's worth at a time.

We didn't get much for the walnuts, but we held aside a big feed-bag full for our own use through the winter months. Yep, sitting in my bent-hickory rocking chair on the porch of our log cabin, beside our dog Spot, cracking and eating walnuts.

I finally got some good solid-color marbles for the Swedish Checker Game—at Mary's Variety Store in Marshfield. That store is identical to the old dime stores, like Amsbury's in Blaine when I was little. I could spend hours in there, just reminiscing. They have metal tractors that steer, and jacks, and those magnetic Scotty dogs. What a wonderful place Missouri is!

I changed my voter registration today, too. One of the questions she asked me was what my occupation is. I said "writer" and she wrote it down. Now it's official.

Suspecting it before coming here, but not knowing it for sure, I've now discovered that people from (or in) Missouri pronounce it "Mizzer'uh" and not "Mizzer'ee." I wonder if it's because people who like Missouri don't want to confuse its came with the word "misery."

Calvin & Carol showed me yesterday a photo of their family taken right after their house had burned to the ground with everything in it. They're standing on the ruins of the front porch, with the ashes behind them. Levi is just a little baby in Carol's arms. No one is smiling. It's a terribly moving picture. Then they showed me the only thing that survived the fire—a cast-iron plaque that Calvin's brother made for them. On the fire-marred plaque, still clearly legible, are the words: "God bless our home." He did. Despite the fire, they still have a wonderful home. Homes are like churches. The buildings may burn, but a home cannot. And the members may leave, but the home remains in the heart of everyone. I'm thankful that I grew up in a good home; it stays with me wherever I am.

PRECIOUS MEMORIES

(From Schwartz's Song-Book)

Precious memories, unseen angels

Sent from somewhere to my soul

How they linger ever near me

And the sacred past unfold.

Chorus-

Precious memories, how they linger

How they ever flood my soul

In the stillness of the midnight

Precious, sacred scenes unfold.

Precious Father, loving Mother

Fly across the lonely years

And old home scenes of my childhood

In fond memory appears.   - Chorus

In the stillness of the midnight

Echoes from the past I hear

Old home singing, gladness bringing

From that lonely land somewhere.  - Chorus

As I travel on life's pathway

Know not what the years may hold

As I ponder hope grows fonder

Precious memories flood my soul.  - Chorus

October 27, 1982

The foundation pillars are made and waiting for the logs to be notched and set on top. What a beautiful foundation! Cement, stone and mortar. Other than digging the holes and mixing and pouring the cement, Calvin did all the stonework. Now, with the foundation done and all sixty logs stacked beside it, I'm getting excited. But a thunderstorm is predicted for tomorrow, so we may have to take a rest.

It dawned on me today that since there's a local blacksmith shop, I can finally follow through on some of my ideas of things made out of metal, and then really have them made!

Our colds are slowly disappearing, but I still have a night-time cough—a constant tickle in my throat that begins at about 7:30 p.m. and lasts until I get up at about 6:30. I wonder why that happens; how can a tickle tell time?

This evening we celebrated a birthday party for Hans. He's six today. Carol's parents, sister and nephew are still here for the fun. They'll be here through tomorrow night.

We explored our land some more and found many persimmon trees and wild grapes (love 'em!) and large rabbits and crawdads, and we found that the two huge trees that arch over our gate are blackjack oaks, and that the two huge trees beside the cabin are burr oak and bitternut hickory. We've decided to clear out much of the low-lying growth (although underbrush here isn't near as agitating as W. Washington's underbrush) and cut down all but one or two of the dreadfully sharp-thorned locust trees. If one can cope with the thorns, locust makes excellent firewood; and surely I can invent some use for the straight and strong, 3-to-4-inch long, needle-sharp thorns. Maybe I can glue them upright onto a flat base to make a spindle for office papers.

This is such a peaceful place, I can't get over it. We cut the fence, opening a gateway into our land, and don't even think of putting a sign up. There's just no vandalism around here. We leave tools and material lying over there, with no worry of thieves. It's just so quiet here. It's wonderful!

October 28, 1982, 1:50 p.m.

Six logs were notched and set before the rain came! It looks great! One full day of notching and putting the logs in place should finish the walls! Calvin is doing the notches with his chainsaw. But the rain is pouring, so we're resting for a while. Meanwhile, Calvin's three heifers got out through our gateway where we had cut the wires, so we had to drive them back again and Calvin put some of the wires back to keep them in. I'm going to have to wire a fence around the back boundary of the land to keep them from wandering through...another first-time experience...and that way we'll always know where the boundary is, too. Our land is shaped like this:

Just realized today one reason why Marshfield and Seymour are such nice towns. Neither of them have any taverns! They're "dry towns." Another strange thing about them is that they're farming communities, and so most all businesses open really early—many are open at 8 a.m. and all of them at 9 a.m. It's handy.

As Calvin and I left the cabin site today, we were greeted on the way out the gate by a big box turtle. It's over in the corner of their house right now, peeking around as it dares. Calvin had put it in a paper bag and given it to Leif; it was the first time Leif had seen one here.

Today Micki & I went to the Extension Agency and got some neat literature (free) on buying fresh vegetables, consumer information catalog, installing and maintaining woodstoves, making and using compost, mulches, honey, and a map of Missouri, and (for $2) a really good book on the trees of Missouri—of which we have many, many varieties on our land. I'm anxious to do a lot of nature study here, finding things that, until now, I've only heard about in books. We also went and got a Missouri Driver Guide, because we're going to have to take our driver's tests over again (both written and actual driving). Ugh!

After laying the first logs, I stood on them to find out how high the cabin floor will be, and found that we'll be able to see the creek water flowing.

Well, now the turtle has turned around and is butted up against a box, and Leif is sleeping upstairs. Oh well.

Spot is getting cuddlier as time goes by. Today he licked Micki and me in the face. He's tough, too. He doesn't let any of the other puppies get over him when they wrestle.

Oh, by the way, the first money I've had to spend on the cabin was buying some sand and cement to mix with Calvin's lime and abundant rocks and water to make mortar for the foundation. Cost of the foundation? $8.66. Cost of the entire cabin so far? $8.66. Next cost will be for the floors and the roof.

8:00 p.m.

We just finished a good meal, with twelve people around a 3½'x5' table. It was topped off by homemade ice cream, which I ate while sitting on a honey bucket. Now Calvin is reading a bedtime story to the boys from the Little House Books by Laura Ingalls Wilder, and Carol's folks are sitting down for their last evening visit before they leave tomorrow morning. My night-time cough is beginning again; and the rain is still coming down, though not as hard. We let the turtle go.

The days are slow here when it's raining. We sit around, constantly feeling like we should be out working on something, but it rains too hard. It really feels good to work hard, and to be a hard worker. I realized this morning at Rost Lumber Co., while buying more sand for mortar, that I feel different about myself now, because I work hard. I feel that now, because I labor, I have a right to live on earth. It's a strange feeling. My self-image is getting better since I'm learning how to do basic things and am doing them. Now I know why country people and farm people don't flaunt their intelligence (like I've often tried to do)—because they don't need to. They get their self-worth by hard work and practical knowledge, knowing that if the world's civilization completely collapses they will still be smart enough to survive; and, after all, isn't this true intelligence? Anyway, I thought about and felt this this morning and thought I'd try to put it into words.

Tomorrow, if it's too rainy to work on the cabin, I'll probably go into Marshfield and buy some barbed-wire and maybe go ahead and string a fence along the back boundary.

Well, back to the Poho Oil Carminative for my cough. It's not quite as bad tonight as last night though. 

October 29th, 7:30 a.m.

Good morning! Beautiful, clear day today with a bright sunrise. We'll be working on the cabin today! Carol and Hans are both very sick with bad colds. Carol threw up while doing chores in the barn and Calvin ordered her back to bed. Meanwhile Micki is taking over with food and cleaning and watching the kids. Now soon, at 8:00, I'll be taking Peter to school, picking up two other kids on the way along the rolling country drive. I'm still coughing a little, but feel good.

Peter

Calvin just got a call from a neighbor to come over and breed some cows, so he'll be going with me, and then I'll get to see how it's done. Calvin is the main breeder around here, and he carries bulls in bottles rather than in trucks. The cows are artificially inseminated.

9:30 a.m.

Nope, didn't go with Calvin to breed cows. He just went with me, then left to breed after we got back. Leif went with him, though; he should enjoy it. When they come back, we'll go work on the cabin. Meanwhile I think I'll go study what trees we have on the land.

5:15 p.m.

Two huge blackjack oaks arching over the gateway, either a bitternut hickory or mockernut hickory and huge post oak (not a burr oak) beside the cabin. I guess we have mainly honey locust—not black locust trees; and we're not sure if the elm trees are American elm or slippery elm. There are a lot of eastern red cedar trees—not large—looking like Christmas trees.

Calvin and I got just three more logs laid when the chainsaw muffler fell off and a bolt was missing. So we went to the chainsaw shop and got it fixed for $5.10, then went to Coe's Variety Store (a general store way out in the country, near here) and Calvin bought 100 lbs. of corn feed, and then we visited Randy at his metal shop where I experienced first-hand the hard work it takes to drill big holes through heavy steel by hand.

Calvin and Randy and I then went to the fire lookout tower—a scary, high tower with just little handrails between you and death—and we climbed the stairs to the top, despite Calvin's fear of heights. The country was beautiful from up there, with thousands of square acres full of autumn leaves and rolling hills under the bluest sky you can imagine.

By the time we got back, it was milking time, so we're done with the cabin for today. Oh well, tomorrow is coming.

Spot is getting really playful and cuddly now. I should take a picture of him.

Spot

Leif is getting smart. We were all walking out the gate of our land and saw another box turtle. I told the kids not to pick it up, but after getting into the car, we noticed that the turtle was on its back, and Hans told us that Leif had done it. While Micki went to turn the poor turtle over again, I said to Leif, "I told you not to pick up that turtle!" Leif quietly replied, "I didn't, I just turned it over." I must be the only one around with a three-year-old teenager.

While driving to Coe's, we almost hit a snapping turtle that was crossing the road, and I stopped to see it closely. Wow, what a primitive looking thing! Calvin suggest that I let it bite my shoe, but never having encountered one before, I tested it with a stick instead. Since snapping turtles can't totally withdraw into their shells like box turtles can, they must rely on fighting for protection—and can they fight! It rolled back its head and bit the stick several times. If I rolled it onto its back (which was hard to do), it would immediately flop itself back over with its head! Carol said later that if they bite a person, they'll set their jaws and won't let go. They swim up underwater and capture baby ducklings. They eat fish, and they may surprise swimmers if they happen to step in the wrong place. People here don't like them very much; but due to my naive ignorance, I gently pushed it off the road with the stick, so it wouldn't be hurt. 

Well, the mobile home in Bellingham still hasn't sold, but I've relisted it with Sehome Realty for six more months. They should sell it before the bank will be desperate enough to repossess it. 

Now we're planning to put a dormer upstairs in the cabin, to make more room. It could even be my writing study.

As for washing clothes, we want to get a hand-powered James Washer (with ringer)—the kind the Amish people use. And on nice days, of which there are many, we'll hang clothes outside to dry; and on rainy days we'll hang them on one of those folding wooden racks near the wood heater.

As for water, we can hand pump it to the cabin from the spring (or gravity-feed it from a tower); and when the pipes are frozen we can haul it by hand from the spring. Next time the spring is dry, Calvin says that we can haul in water from his place.

As for a toilet, until we get a chemical toilet, or build an outhouse, or whatever, we'll use chamber pots.

The wonderful thing about living so primitively here, is that many others around here do it, too, and so we'll know what works and how to do it.

November 1, 1982

I've been stringing a barbed-wire fence today by myself. I think I told you about the heifers that wandered from the upper field through our land and out the open gate onto the road, and Calvin and I had to round them up and drive them back in; and then we rewired the gateway to keep them in. But having that wire there is inconvenient for hauling stuff in (like the chainsaw, bag of cement, tools); and yesterday the heifers came to the cabin site and dumped over the bucket of sand that I bought to make mortar and knocked over the wheelbarrow that was covering lime and things so they'd stay dry; so I thought it was time to make a fence around the back of the land. Despite the trees that can be used for posts, I had to buy several metal posts, and those plus the staples and the 80 rods of wire cost $44. That's a big chunk out of our measly account, but it had to be done. I managed to string two out of three wires this afternoon with only a little poke on the finger by a thorn and a scratch on the leg by the wire, and a heart attack. And the wire is tight, too. Weather permitting, the fence will be finished tomorrow and we can open the gate again.

The heart attack? While hammering a staple into a tree beside a little creek, something rolled out of a hole between the tree roots and over my foot, then tumbled down into the water and opened up into a big water moccasin! He was too shaken by the noise of the hammering to give a care about my foot, and quickly swam away.

This morning, Micki, Leif and I went to Fannie's Dry Goods Store—first time for Micki and Leif. After looking over the merchandise, we got to talking to Fannie about the Amish people and their beliefs and way of life. With her German accent it was kind of hard to understand her at times, but at the same time it was beautiful the way she phrased things, like: "All people are mistakable, but we have to love our enemies." She spoke about all sorts of things, but mainly stressed Christian love and the importance of reading and studying "the Testament" and being willing to live by it. It was wonderful to visit with such a sincere Christian; God's Word meant more to her than a guidebook on theology—it was something familiar, something that comes from the heart and fills every aspect of life. I had gone there mainly to show Micki the neat store and to buy a jackknife. Fannie ended up giving me the jackknife free, because I was "sincerely interested in the Amish people."

While leaving the store, we met Fannie's father, Sammy Schwartz—a 70-year-old man with 125 grandchildren (not to mention great-grandchildren)! He talked with us non-stop as he walked to the windmill to fill a jug with water; and while Fannie pulled Micki aside to give her some homegrown canned corn and chili, I went with Sammy into the beautifully-plain, large house to meet his wife, Emma. There's no way to describe an Amish house (and that's probably the way they prefer it); it's just as plain and simplistic as can be, and incredibly beautiful in its simplicity. We sat around a little oak table (Micki and Leif caught up with us), and for the fastest hour I ever spent, listened to a plump, bearded man talk about the prophets and apostles as though they were old friends and about the Scriptural reasons for the Amish way of life, about history and about the future, and about joy and love—enough to make tears well up in all our eyes. Emma brought us bread and cheese and meat and cookies and milk and coffee, and a wagon-load of toy blocks (all homemade) was rolled out from beneath a simple bed for Leif to play with. They continually asked us about our new home here—if we have the money needed and any canned food, etc. Before we left, they took us down into their large cellar to show us their huge supply of canned food and barrels of homemade wine (which they drink very moderately; drunkenness is unheard of in their community), and give us a jar of green beans and a jar of canned ham. We had no idea that going to a dry goods store would lead to such a wonderful visit!

A thunderstorm just passed through, with a little rain. Every now and then we still see a flash of lightning. So far I love the weather here. It can be a sunny day, hot enough to sweat as I work and breezy enough to cool off when I rest, and when the work is done the rain might come and we can sit down inside to enjoy a good storm. Last night it was warm; tonight is supposed to be cold. The weather here is far from boring.

Well, besides our puppy, Spot, we now have a kitten, Tiger. Both are the same age. Just before we came here, Calvin & Carol's cat, Sunshine, went off and had kittens. Until a couple days ago, no one knew where the kittens were, until the boys were playing in the barn and saw a little yellow kitten peering from a deep tunnel in the hay. The mother cat was out in the field. After several of us tried to crawl back into the claustrophobic tunnel to reach the kittens, but couldn't, they finally gave up and left but I stayed behind to hide and see if the brave yellow kitten would come back out to the opening. (When I had reached into the darkness for it, it had hissed and scratched me.) Sure enough, the curious little tiger wobbled out to see what was going on, meowing for its mother. Before it could toddle back into the tunnel, I jumped in and caught it. Meanwhile Calvin had come tack and watched the capture. Tiger turns out to be a male, but there was no sign of any other kittens, and since Tiger was sort of skinny we assumed that his mother had moved the other kittens and deserted him, like some cats sometimes do. We took him into the house for a day and a night; he was very hungry. But, it turns out that there were other kittens in that tunnel, because the following day, they spotted Sunshine moving her other kittens—three females—to a hole in the roof of the pump-house. We gave Tiger back to her, but we'll take him to our cabin when it's finished.

Hans, Leif, and Sunshine the Cat

Night before last, the first cow that was born on the Vos' farm gave birth to a heifer calf, but both would have probably been dead, had it not been for Micki and Calvin, who went out to check on her in the middle of the night and wound up pulling with all their might until the huge calf finally came out. Calvin got it to start breathing, and thank God the mother cow got up afterwards. In order to get the calf away from its mother the next day, Calvin had to carry it a long way and the calf weighed over a hundred pounds. They named her "Pansy." She's so soft and fluffy; I sat and petted her a long time as if she were a puppy.

The cabin has five logs on each side so far. It's taking us longer to build it than I had hoped, but meanwhile we're being well cared for and God will see that it's finished at the proper time. Yesterday I set one log with an axe. Now I really appreciate the chain saw.

The storm has come back. Lightning is striking all around, the thunder shakes the house, and it's pouring. While we were talking and looking at each other, there was a brilliant lightning flash and when it was over it was completely dark; the electricity had gone off at the same moment. But it came back on about three seconds later. I've never seen lightning so bright as this.

Yesterday morning we all went to the Evangelical Methodist Church in Marshfield, but no one was there. I had even called the day before to find out when the services start; but there the eight of us were for Sunday School, but the parking lot was empty. Then it dawned on some of us that we had changed back to standard time and were an hour early! So we spent almost an hour at a nearby park and then went back to the church.

Although I like a lot of what was said in the sermon, the speaking was dry, the room stuffy, and we felt out of place. Next Sunday morning we plan on just worshiping at home together, and then the following week we might go someplace else. Whatever the Lord leads us to do—above all, we want to be comfortable in our worship...it should be a natural thing to do.

November 2nd

Just woke up. It's foggy. We're having pancakes with homemade butter and sorghum. I'm still very stiff and sore. My cold's gone. Nobody else's is, though. Calvin never caught it. I don't know for sure what this day will bring; I think Calvin needs another load of hay; but at least I plan to finish the fence—one more wire and eight metal posts for support.

The milking machine just shut off at the milk barn, so Calvin will be in soon and we'll eat. I'll write more later.

7:30 p.m.

Well, we were going to get hay today (from beyond Springfield), but the neighbor's truck was to be repaired today (the one we were going to use), and Randy (our Amish friend) had to attend a funeral today and so couldn't help us, so we're putting it off until tomorrow.

Leif and me in Randy and Nancy's back yard

So, after a long visit with Randy & Nancy and their children, Seth, Katie, Sarah, Maggie and Joseph, and after eating popcorn and drinking a cup of tea there, and after coming back and having lunch, Calvin and I notched and set several logs on the cabin (we've now set half the logs and the walls are getting high enough to make the work difficult), and then I finished the fence. It's a pretty nice fence, if I do say so myself, and it'll keep the heifers out for sure. Tomorrow I'll reopen the gate to the road. And the log cabin looks beautiful so far! We've decided to have a dormer window upstairs in front, to give us even more room; maybe my study can be in the dormer.

Calvin and Hans

Now that the leaves are fallen from the trees, passersby can see the cabin through our woods, and neighbors are beginning to stop and see the work and visit and become friends. People here, as I said, are embarrassingly friendly, and we have open invitations now to neighboring farms. People even visit differently here in the country. They'll talk, and then when the subject is finished, they'll stand there without saying anything for a long time, and instead of using this lengthy pause as a cue to leave and go do something else, they finally think of something else to say and continue the conversation. It's funny to watch, but it's neat not to have to always keep the conversation rolling, to know that you can take your time to think of something to say and, after more than a minute goes by, still have a friend there willing to listen. I think this area has a monopoly on patience.

Well, it's getting late (past 8 p.m.) and we've got a big day of work tomorrow, so I'll go to bed and write more tomorrow.

November 3rd, 7:00 p.m.

It was a big day of work all right! We picked up Randy, the truck and the trailer, went about fifty miles to where the alfalfa hay is, moved about 150 bales of grass hay just to get to the alfalfa, then loaded 250 bales onto the truck and trailer. Then, on the way back—when I was completely exhausted and famished, Calvin treated us to lunch at Duff's—all you can eat of a tremendous selection for just $2.98 each. We gorged ourselves so much that we could hardly move and got really sleepy. Then we unloaded 210 bales in Calvin's barn and 40 bales in Randy's barn. Now I'm ready to die, with hay dust everywhere in me and on me. One neat thing about it; it sure is fun to blow my nose!

I don't think I've ever laughed so hard as I did today at Duff's. Randy went to get a dish of soft ice cream from a machine around the buffet selection and out of sight. He then came back with a little dish and a literal tower of ice cream, so high that he was careful to balance it!  Calvin and I cracked up when we saw it, and laughed even harder when we saw Randy's pathetic expression. "I didn't know how to turn it off," he said, making us laugh harder yet. After a bit, Calvin went to get some ice cream, and when he came back balancing his tower, with his face red, Randy and I lost it. We laughed too hard to be in public! (I didn't dare get ice cream for dessert.)

Tomorrow, after Randy butchers a cow, Calvin is going over to help him cut wood. I plan to level and clear out our driveway so we can actually drive the car into our land and park it. Eventually, when we can afford it, we'll have a load of gravel poured and spread it out for the car, and eventually I'll build a carport using the trees for posts. Also tomorrow I plan to patch a part of the south boundary fence—the part that goes across the creek has a hole in it where ambitious cattle can squeeze through. Mainly it'll be a day of odds and ends that must be done sometime. And, I'll take down the gate!

November 8, 5:15 p.m.

My cold came back again after loading the hay last week—especially a cough (doesn't hurt—just a constant tickle), and tomorrow we're going back for another load. This time, though, I bought some pollen masks so I won't keep breathing all that hay dust. I'll probably get laughed at—wearing a little mask—but I guess we writers are just eccentric. The really bad part about the mask is that I won't have so much fun afterwards blowing my nose. 

Our home worship last Sunday morning was beautiful. We prayed, played Bible charades (the kids especially loved this), sang songs, read some inspirational writings, read the Bible, prayed some more, and then we all went for a walk in the country (which is easy to find around here). Next week we plan to visit an Amish church gathering at one of their farms. Hundreds of people will be there, and, if we want, we can stay for the festivities which usually last all day and into the evening. The Amish only hold church services every other Sunday. They don't have a Sunday School; instead they believe it's the parents' duty to instruct the children; and so the Sundays in-between are to be devoted to this purpose. The bad part about their church service is that most the speaking, including sermons, will be in German. But, I suppose the Holy Spirit will interpret for us.

Well, about one hour ago, Calvin and I set the last log in place! The walls are up! And the way oak log cabins go, a hundred years from now it'll still be up. Next step is to buy the lumber and build the upstairs, the tin roof, and floor. Then we'll invite everyone over for a mud party and chink the logs. It'll be beautiful! I plan to be working over there every available hour after we haul in the lumber—probably skipping lunches—until we can move in. Shouldn't be long now, and we'll make it in plenty of time before the winter. Like I said, the Lord will have us finish at the right time.

Higher and higher

Calvin and Hans in the back of cabin

Micki and Leif

A friend of ours—Mike Conneley—is staying in our mobile home at Bellingham, Washington. We let him stay rent-free through October, because he isn't very blessed financially right now—his only job being a regular newspaper route. It turns out that he enjoys staying there so much that he's now paying the lot rent directly to the court manager; and, he also wants to buy the trailer! We'll wait and see how it turns out, anyway. I've notified the realtor, and she was to go out and talk to him and try to get it down on paper. I sure am glad we don't intend ever to go into debt again—not even with real estate.

Whoops! Milk machine just shut off, so we'll be eating soon.

November 10, 7:00 a.m.

Well, we went for the load of hay yesterday and it was a lot easier...probably both because of the mask (that they laughed at only for a little bit) and because I'm getting used to labor. Calvin treated us to lunch again at Duff's in Springfield; this time I was smarter and didn't gorge myself. Calvin and Randy and I studied the ice cream machine, and found that to turn it off you push the handle the opposite way than you'd expect it to go. But I still didn't dare get ice cream.

I also leveled the driveway the other day, so the car can park beneath the left blackjack oak. And I patched the fence that crosses the Lund River (this river runs into the Niangua River, but we don't know that it has any other name), so there is no way that Tegardens' cattle can sneak over either.

View of Tegarden's place on the other side of our land

Last Friday, at about 5:30 p.m., I left to go get a wood heater from my sister Linda & her husband Ron in Wichita, getting there sometime between midnight and 1:00 a.m.—a late drive for a guy now used to farm hours. Why that woodstove? Well, Calvin & Carol's wood cookstove wouldn't have been practical for heating because of the small wood box and the many times required each day and night to add wood. So we settled on the Franklin-type stove, which would burn longer (but probably not all night), and would have been nice to open up into an open fireplace at times; but the top surface is very small and it would be impractical for cooking. Linda & Ron's stove is a regular little cast-iron Arctic box stove, that will take good-size pieces of wood and has two burners on top as well as a removable top to replace with a cast-iron grill (which Calvin & Carol have also given us, along with several cast-iron pans). So, for both cooking and heating, the little Arctic stove is the best, so Friday I went to Wichita and Saturday night got back with our new stove (thanks to Linda & Ron). It was a short but nice visit, and I took a long, leisurely bath. Meanwhile, Micki and Leif went with the Vos family to a big steak dinner Saturday evening at Randy & Nancy's farm, and all had a good time.

Last night I figured how much lumber we need to finish the cabin, and called Mr. Pool, the lumber man, to place the order (it's oak lumber—more inexpensive than other kinds—and since oak is such a hard wood it should be worked with while it's green, so the man cuts it as you need it). We have just $210 left, and just the frame alone will cost about $140! That doesn't count the roofing, the flooring, the insulation, the stove pipe and chimney, a window in the dormer, the siding for the upstairs, or the inside walls upstairs. Last night was the first time I felt like we weren't going to make it after all: Depression. We can't borrow more from a credit union, because we can't make regular payments, and I hate to be a burden to anyone, especially as a result of building my "castle in the air." So all we can do is pray, and take one day at a time. We do have the money to buy today's lumber and continue to build, and we'll have to count our many blessings and be content with that.

Linda has given us an open invitation for both Thanksgiving and Christmas, but I think that this year we'll see what it's like with just our own little family.

The weather is still beautiful here—sunny almost every day, accompanied by a cool breeze.

Carol's cold is much better. We're all hoping for a girl this February, after three boys.

Well, this letter is long enough, I guess. I think I'll go out to the milk-house and take a shower, then go into Marshfield to get my money out of the Webster County Bank so I'll have something to buy the lumber with when Mr. Pool calls.

November 13, 1982

We borrowed Wes' truck and went to Pool Lumber to pick up (hopefully) all the boards I need.  Mr. Pool is a farmer who has a little lumber mill back in one of his fields. He cuts oak as people need it, since you can only work with green oak (dry, old oak is too hard to nail through; and even with green oak I'm using concrete nails). As we loaded the heavy lumber onto the flatbed truck, Mr. Pool gave me a couple good boards to make up for every faulty one he noticed. After all the lumber was loaded, Calvin and I went with Mr. Pool to his house and, as we sat comfortably in the living room, Mrs. Pool wrote out the receipt and I paid them $132. It was a good price for the amount of lumber, and it was the nicest "lumber store" I've ever been to. 

But now I have only $40—for all the plywood, insulation, stove pipe and chimney, roofing, etc. Tonight we had a good idea to use oak 1x6's for the upstairs floor instead of plywood. Plywood would cost about $45 and the boards would only cost $20, so I've ordered 28 more boards from Mr. Pool. A board floor would look better and would allow more heat to rise upstairs.

Today Micki and I framed the downstairs floor and almost framed the whole upstairs. We've decided just to keep on building until we run out of money and can't do anymore. We're having a couple in Bellingham sell Micki's grandma's organ for us, but we don't know how soon that will happen.

Last night it got down to 4°F. We had to work today to keep warm. But the weather here is variable and it'll be nice again before winter. Our porch foundation still has to be laid, and I don't want to work with mortar until I know it has time to set without freezing and maybe cracking. And the foundation will hold up the porch which will hold the log posts that will hold up the upstairs overhang, so a lot of work depends on the weather.

The whole downstairs will be for cooking and eating. A big window like in the front will be on the back wall, too. Other than expense and having to race with the winter, building it is a lot of fun. All I have to go by is my experience in watching and helping my brother Paul put together our Lake Stevens cabin. It's a challenge for me.

Well it's very late (9:15 p.m.) and early tomorrow we're going to visit the Amish church services.

November 14th, 7:25 a.m.

Almost time for breakfast. Meanwhile I'll tell you about Jean & Zack White. He's a retired Methodist minister (liberal, though) and she's a "health nut." Last season they grew sorghum, and the Amish went and harvested it to process it into what we put on our pancakes, etc. Also, Zack & Jean have a phone, so when the Amish need to use a phone they usually go over to Zack & Jean's farm. Micki wanted some bird seed to feed the hungry birds through the winter, but we didn't want to afford the "boughten kind," so we went over to Zack & Jean's to see if they'd let us glean some of the leftover sorghum heads (excellent bird seed—each head loaded with seeds) and that's how we met Zack & Jean. As with everybody else here, they're really nice people, and we visited with them a lot longer than we had planned They gave us some seeds for mullein (which makes a good tea) and two jars of honey. Not only did they let us collect sorghum heads, but they let us use their wheelbarrow and clippers and gave us two big feed bags to fill. They let us taste some persimmon leather, too—it was good. We're welcome to visit them again. Oh, they also have a little trailer, covered by an insulated building, that they said we can stay in (separate from their house) if we don't finish our cabin by winter. Nice folks!

5:20 p.m.

It's hard to write. Just finished framing the upstairs floor, hammering a zillion concrete nails through solid oak in freezing weather, and now my hands are stiff.

We went to the Amish church gathering in a huge, plain farmhouse. The men sat in one room and the women in another (and the speakers stood in the wide doorway addressing both the men and women at the same time). The women had their heads covered and the men had hats off. We sat on hard wood benches with no back rest. The children were allowed to sit wherever they wanted—regardless of sex—and even to go out and play if they wanted. More than 200 families were there!

The entire service (which lasted from 9 a.m. to 12 noon) was in German. We began with singing, using their German hymnal, written in Old English (where the "s" looks like "f," etc.). The singing was loud and beautiful—almost too loud. I was completely lost through the first hymn, but during the second I figured out their system. It sounded something like Gregorian chanting. A man would chant just the first syllable in a line, and all the people would finish the line. Each syllable was treated as an entire word—each one taking about five seconds to sing, and so each hymn was very long. I racked my brain to remember German pronunciation after nineteen years since high school, but ended up doing pretty good at singing along.

Then the bishop stood and preached a sermon in which he cried a couple times, and he seemed like a very good preacher. Then an elder stood to read the Bible (in German) and suddenly many people began to get up and walk out—then come back a few minutes later. I later learned that while preachers preach, the people think of it as God's word, so they sit quietly and listen. Ironically, when the actual Scriptures are read, the people take that as a time to go to the outhouses, etc. I can't understand this, but think that it's because the people already know and are familiar with Scripture.

Then we all turned around and knelt at our benches to pray. Then another elder or preacher stood and preached an awfully long, monotone sermon, and by this time I was very sore from sitting so long on a wooden bench and was becoming very bored. Then we knelt and prayed again. After that another elder spoke briefly, followed by a prayer by all four men. Then we sang long hymns again. Afterwards the church members stayed to conduct some brief church business while the non-members stepped outside.

While the people prepared two long tables for feeding the multitude, we went back in. As guests, we were among the first group to be seated to eat, while the next group waited until we were done to take our places. The food was simple—bread, homemade Swiss cheese, peanut butter, butter, water, coffee, and pickled beets. We were still segregated by sex. (Good tip: Mix Karo syrup with peanut butter. It makes it very easy to spread, stretches the peanut butter a long way, and tastes deeeelicious! That's what the Amish did there.)

Later I was very relieved that we were in the first group, because the table setting doesn't get changed! The next group uses the same silverware, the same glass and cup (simply refilled)—just as grimy as how they were left. Some had dunked sandwiches into the coffee, and the next person had to drink coffee with crumbs in the cup. If I hadn't been in the first group, I wouldn't have eaten.

Then we visited for awhile, and left. We could have stayed for a day of fellowship, but didn't. Calvin & Carol are still planning to become Amish eventually, and Micki wouldn't mind it a bit (although one spouse can't be Amish if the other isn't), but although I greatly love the people I could never join them as a member. It's all far too different. I had thought that the Amish must have a lot of "outsiders" join them, since the lifestyle is so wonderful, but I found out today that out of all those many people, only one family has come in from the outside—Randy & Nancy and their kids—and even they're not official members yet. They've been trying to be accepted for seven years—living an Amish lifestyle, etc.—and are hoping this next spring to be baptized into their church. It would have taken only about four years or so, but Randy's previous divorce, etc. slowed it down. He used to drive a Corvette and a Harley-Davidson motorcycle and live quite a wild life. It's a big change for them.

I'd rather learn Norwegian.

Tomorrow morning at 8:30 I'm to pick up Fannie to take her somewhere. Think I'll go to bed.

We'll probably celebrate Thanksgiving as a family; hopefully the cabin will be closed up by then. Or maybe we'll have it with the Vos'.

I've got two jobs—driving the Amish and writing—and I think they'll support us here. The cost of living here is extremely low—you'd think that inflation has ended—and with our homestead and all the knowledge around here about living on nothing, we won't need much income. The Amish will support the car, and writing will buy our humble necessities. Just got a letter today from Gleason Ledyard of Christian Literature International in Oregon, saying that it's all right if I wait to finish the cabin before beginning their devotional book. He'll pay me by the page, and each page is a separate theme, so we'll have a meager but steady income until it's done—and then comes Psalms and the whole Old Testament. And surely I'll be writing other stuff at the same time. Once the cabin is finished, our major money needs will be over. Just a few dollars goes a long way here.

Next Thanksgiving we hope to have Linda and family over.

I drove Fannie to Marshfield today, stopping at places along the way and several places in town, until the car's back seat and trunk were full. She's a wonderful Christian lady, and really easy to talk to. Besides paying me $6.75 for the mileage, she bought me a candy bar, bought me lunch in a cafe (getting a lot of strange looks for sitting with an Amish woman), slipped me an extra dollar tip, and bought the Vos' and us a package of wieners, which we're eating tonight. It was a very pleasant morning, and it seems strange to get paid for having fun. Day after tomorrow Fannie wants me to take her to Springfield—that's at least 30 miles one way, and so, at 25¢/mile, I'll get at least $15 (as well as lunch probably)—enough finally to change the oil, etc. and care some for the car.

During our travels today, we went to a place where you can buy eggs for 35¢/dozen (at an Amish farm), but it was hilarious. The egg seller belonged to another Amish sect, and the people of each sect were forbidden to speak to each other! But the egg prices were just too good to pass up. So Fannie brought me in for a go-between. As the two ladies stood on each side of me, Fannie said to me, "Ask her how much a dozen eggs cost." And I turned to the other lady and asked, "How much are a dozen eggs?" The lady said to me, "Thirty-five cents." And I told Fannie, "Thirty-five cents." So Fannie said to me, "Tell her I want ten dozen." And so I did. And so it went, until we carried the eggs out to the car without the two ladies ever speaking to each other. Games people play. The Amish don't use engine-powered tractors, but I've heard that another Amish sect allows them but only if they don't have rubber tires. Oh well, I'll drive our car and enjoy the company.

We also went to a non-Amish quilt shop run by a friendly farm lady. It was a cozy little shop in a little building in her yard, with a heater, a phone, a TV—her own little world—something I'd like to do if I were a friendly farm lady. I studied her quilting table, with three dowels on it that can turn and lock in place, and a "quilting machine"—a husky sewing machine—that can slide anywhere you want it to on two perpendicular tracks. The table is long enough for king-size quilts. It must make the work very easy though, because, if the customer supplies the material (of which she has plenty on hand), she charges only $7.50 to make the quilt. 

I bought some TO-NE-KA Cough Syrup (since 1918) at Fannie's Dry Goods Store today for $1.60 for my night-time cough. Sure hope it does the trick.

Today Micki & I nailed the last board to the upstairs floor frame in preparation for the floor boards. I just called Mr. Pool to order the full-cut oak boards. Because the downstairs floor shouldn't have cracks between the boards, we're putting down two off-set layers of boards (1x6's), and even two layers of oak is cheaper than ¾" plywood. We'll have to sand them by hand, though (once they're nailed down) because the boards are rough. It'll be fun framing the upstairs, because we'll be walking on the high upstairs floor, looking at the scenery all around.

Leif has "pink-eye" now. He caught it from Levi, who still has it. This morning Leif couldn't open his left eye, and Levi couldn't open either. What an awful sickness! We're treating the eyes with red raspberry leaf tea.

Micki's been washing clothes regularly by hand for some time now—using the sinks in the milk-house and a ringer. I still have clean clothes whenever I need them. She's quite a worker.

Also, today Micki tore down the Vos' old chicken coop, and we'll use the lumber for our chicken coop. It was quite a job.

Calvin is building (and digging) a new outhouse, and he's just going to tip over their old one and put it on the sled and have the horses pull it to our place. I'm going to improve it some, though.

November 19, 1982

We just finished capturing 25 chickens off their roosts in the barn (after dark) and carried them upside-down by the legs to their new chicken coop that Calvin built for them...an evening at the Vos'.

Leif and I cut and added a few more boards to our upstairs floor today (Leif holds while I saw), and we've done about as much as we can do until Mr. Pool cuts the rest of our floorboards. It's fun to stand up on the new floor and look around at the view. From the upstairs window we'll be able to see the stars, the sunrise, and look right down into the Lund River.

I've been feeling better about building our cabin since I decided not to have a dormer after all. It will be much easier to build, will still provide us with plenty of room, and will cost much less—otherwise we still wouldn't have been able to buy all the tin roofing.

God always provides. Day before yesterday, while Micki was digging the outhouse hole and I was nailing floorboards, Jack Colton and one of his nephews rode right through our pathway to the backyard of the cabin on a big tractor, to see how things were progressing. They're rugged country folk. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Calvin and I were rattling our way the following day on the wagon behind Owl and Maude up the bumpy hill to the nephew's place to pick up extra lumber and firewood logs they had lying around. It took us four trips to get it all! Now we probably have enough old boards to put siding on our upstairs, and we won't need to buy expensive plywood. Firewood won't be a problem this winter, either. And old Jack told us that he had a double-seater outhouse that we could have, so Calvin and I rattled over a mile to his place to get it. But it turned out to be too big and heavy for the three of us to lift, so we left it. Well, today, while Micki and Leif and I were in Marshfield, Jack called Calvin, and before you knew it, a tractor and a truck and three men and a winch and a chainsaw were busy taking an outhouse to the Lunds'. When we came back, there was a double-seater over Micki's outhouse hole. And they cut our elm tree off at the ground—the one that was between our two huge blackjack oaks. It blocked the way of work vehicles, and it was being stunted by the big oaks anyway, so we had decided to cut it down sometime. They did it for us, and even used a pickup to drag it off the path and into the woods (to be cut up for firewood). Now the blackjack oaks make an uninterrupted arch over our entrance, and we'll take out a wider circle of underbrush (leaving only our peach tree) to make a beautiful entranceway to our place, eventually with flowers, etc.

People sure are caring here. Even if they have nothing, they find something to give to another who has nothing. So everyone has everything.

And Calvin is giving us some tin to use as skirting around the cabin to keep it warmer during the winter. And since he's building a new outhouse, he's giving us their old one to use as a tool shed. It'll sit beside our huge garden.

With the wood that Micki collected by tearing down the Vos' old chicken coop, and the wood we picked up from Ivan's farm, we'll build a chicken coop and begin raising chickens.

We lost Tiger, our little yellow kitten. He was handled while too young (I found out too late), and was always sickly, and finally died inside the pump-house roof. So now we'll just have Spot, our puppy; he's fine and frisky.

Besides deciding to knock the dormer off our plans, I decided that I should look for a part-time job or temporary jobs to carry over the finishing touches of the cabin and buy some bulk staple (like rice) to keep us from starving through the winter. Around here it should be easy to get some temporary work (I hope).

November 20th, 6:15 a.m.

It was cloudy and wet yesterday (not really raining—just wet). This morning it's blustery, but the report said it'll be a beautiful day, about 72°. We'll see. The eastern sky is lighting up, but I can't tell yet if it'll be a red sky or not.

We found a neat antique store in Seymour, converted from a barn, where a huge room full of antiques is also a huge room full of low prices! For instance, there's a big set of garden tools that an old man had made himself for his own use. They'd never be able to break, they're heavy-duty, and really neat looking. You can have them for $1.50 each! An old oak dresser, in beautiful condition, is $25. Good chairs run about $6. When we have the money to splurge, we plan on going there again. The people are really nice there, and the man even gave us a window (4 framed panes) for our cabin.

The sunrise is pink and yellow. I guess it'll be a nice day all right.

After witnessing the customs of the Amish from their Swiss-German heritage, I'm developing an interest in our own heritage, and of raising up Leif to appreciate it and maybe pass down some old family customs. Not only would it make him and our other future children, and their children, feel better about themselves, but strong customs tend to hold families together. We're now learning bout what keeps us alive, and we know well Who gave us life, but now I need to know who the Lord used to bring us here.

As wonderful as it is here, and as peaceful as our homestead will be, I don't feel that we'll be here all our lives. It's a good place and a good way to get a crash course in living, in working the earth along with the Lord, in learning to love people and get a proper perspective of values—things that will stay with us in our souls wherever we go. But sometime I want to live in Norway for a brief time. And sometime we want to visit an underdeveloped country, and sometime I want to build a wooden boat with beds and sail all around Puget Sound and further. I know for a fact that dreams can come true, and have too many dreams to settle forever in Missouri. But this is good for us for now, and maybe in the future, when the structures are built, we can legally buy the land from Calvin & Carol and have a homestead always to go to between other dreams coming true, and where friends and relatives can vacation. Maybe. But we'll he here for a while; and next time we try something else, we'll be sure to be prepared for it.

Well, the day is partly cloudy and blustery, but the wind is coming from the south, from the Gulf of Mexico, so it's not cold. Tuesday we'll get our roofing.

November 21, 1982

Well, I guess we found our "home church" while we're here. Would you believe it...St. Paul's Lutheran Church in Marshfield. I guess that it was studying about Norway that led me to visit a Lutheran church today. It's the second time we've been to a Lutheran service (My brother Paul brought us to one in Clinton, Washington the first time) and Micki's sister Alicia and her husband go to one; so the "regulated" worship was no surprise to us. As a matter of fact, we liked it. For me, it seems nice to have such a methodical service in the midst of trying to arrange our tangled lives into a homestead. Right now we have to burden others (Calvin & Carol) and at the same time wait on another (Mr. Pool cutting our lumber) and it's frustrating; and today's worship just seemed to put us back on a track of sanity. Some folks may put down the ritualism, but worship comes from the heart and we get out of it at least what we put into it.

The minister is very humble—not an "ego-tripper," and all he did in his sermon was relate to us a passage in Daniel, not getting off on any wild theories or intellectualism or controversial doctrine—just relating Scripture. They don't have a nursery service during church, so Leif was with us. He behaved well, and even listened to much of the message (I whispered an easier interpretation of it into his ear). We got a lot out of it.

Then it turned out that they were having a dinner after the service, and several people invited us to stay. So we did. And we were stuffed. (Meanwhile, Calvin & Carol and family went to a baby shower at an Amish home. God saw that we were still fed.)

Then, after the meal, we were entertained by the Marshfield Older American Band (MOAB). Here, senior citizens are called "older Americans." Twenty-two of them played and sang old gospel songs using kitchen utensils, etc. as instruments. It was fun. The saw playing was especially beautiful.

It was no trouble trying to talk to people. Someone was always carrying on a lively conversation with us.

Then to top off God's blessing, Tom Farr, a local mailman, kept questioning us about our work and finances, etc., and we ended up with a box of canned food in the back seat of the car! All sorts of good stuff! It was one of two food packages the church gleaned this last Halloween. It was kind of embarrassing, but everyone was blessed. Yep, God will see us through the winter. And we have many friends to invite to our home when it's built.

For Thanksgiving, Calvin & Carol and boys and us are invited to Randy & Nancy's. But Micki and Leif and I also plan that day to spend a time having a Thanksgiving dinner in our unfinished log cabin. We'll probably feel a lot like they did during the original celebration. And for the past two years, Thanksgiving Day has been the date of this area's first snowfall. 

November 25th—Thanksgiving

We're depressed today, mainly because we're homesick. So far, it looks like we're going over to Randy & Nancy's, but since the parents here are overly strict with the children at the table, we're afraid we'll be nervous—and it isn't home. I feel like moving back to Washington, or at least going to Wichita, for Thanksgiving, but it's too late and we can't afford it. Micki wants to celebrate Thanksgiving at our cabin, but it's too late to change everyone's plans, so if we do that it'll have to be after we come back. Mr. Pool still hasn't cut our lumber, due to weather and other excuses, and apparently he has ceased cutting wood for the season, so our building is stalemated and we can't finish the cabin before winter. Meanwhile, we're afraid that to have Calvin & Carol support us this long is surely burdening them, and so we feel we have to move out. 

During the last couple days, we've been making do—laying boards across the top of the first story of the cabin, then overlapping cracks with more boards, covering that layer with cheap plastic and holding it down with more boards; then we covered the inside of the walls with cardboard so wind won't blow in; and laid boards (old ones) all over the bottom floor joists downstairs. We cut a tiny door out (about 2'x2') and covered it with a flap of cardboard and a blanket; then we brought in the wood heater and set it about three feet from a couple walls, and bought enough pipe to take the smoke out a wall (where we're going to have a window) and up above the "roof," holding the pipe in place with wire; and then we pitched our tent right on the floor inside by tying the corners to joists and logs.

We slept in our cabin for the first time last night, keeping a good fire going all night, and sleeping between six blankets, two quilts and four sleeping bags. Although the heater doesn't really warm up such a drafty room, it helps keep things above freezing, and the tent holds in some body heat, and we slept actually warm! When we went to bed it was 10°F and when we woke up at dawn the outside temperature had warmed up to 20°.

I'm getting so tired, though, of being cold and dirty. For the last couple days I've had a chill that's made it really hard to get warm. I can stand for a long time right next to a big woodstove and still be cold inside. It's too cold outside to go out every time I have to relieve myself, and at least Leif and I have fought with constipation ever since we got here. And a shower is completely out of the question.

But the other day, while we were working on the cabin, a woman from the High Prairie Baptist Church came with a box of fruit to welcome us to the neighborhood. Despite my new and growing appreciation for the conveniences of life and the comfort they give, God continues to remind us of the comfort He can give. If we make it through the winter, my spirits should boost.

My sudden desire to learn about my heritage has become very real, but it wasn't only the Amish's love for theirs that sparked it, but my own homesickness. Western Washington will always be my home, and it won't be long before we move back. But this next time, we'll be ready; and first we should at least build the homestead to really see what it's like—plant, tend and harvest our food, read to each other, have devotions together, and learn how to live. Then we can build our ship and sail Puget Sound.

Calvin is over at Randy's now, buying their buggy! He'll be driving it home, and then we'll take him back to Randy's and all stay for a Thanksgiving dinner. 

November 28, 1982, at Linda & Ron's home in Wichita, Kansas

We're coming home.

Thanksgiving dinner at Randy & Nancy's was very nice. There were fifteen of us sitting around a table loaded with chicken (although Randy raises turkeys, too), mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet potatoes, buns and butter and honey and sorghum, dressing, etc. Afterwards, while the kids were making the ice cream and the women were cleaning up, Randy and Calvin and I played Swedish Checkers. (I won!) Then we all had pumpkin pie and banana ice cream.

After dessert, Micki and Leif and I left, went to the cabin, rekindled and loaded up the woodstove so it'd be warm when we got back, and then we went to Springfield to see a movie—"Heidi's Song," a cartoon movie that entranced Leif and that we really enjoyed after months of rigid country life. Meanwhile it had started raining, and was pouring as we drove back to the land. Now would be the test to see if our makeshift roof works. It doesn't. We returned to a home full of leaks—soaking the floor, the tent and the blankets (the tent leaks, too), and the rain ran down the stove pipe and began putting out the fire and making the ashes and soot smell up the room. Our three boxes of macaroni were soaked, the chamber pot was full of water. We couldn't stay there. And since the blankets were wet, we couldn't sleep at Calvin & Carol's either. 

While Micki held Leif in the car, I stumbled back and forth through the black woods and pouring storm with loads of wet blankets, quilts and sleeping bags. A panicky feeling overtook me and I didn't know what to do. We had all gotten wet, we were cold, we were sleepy and tired, I was sick and exhausted, Leif was insecure and scared (which doesn't happen often). My thoughts about dreams and challenges and dead ends and providing for my family hounded and haunted me. When the last load of blankets was pushed into the car, we turned on the engine and the defrost and headed for a motel in Marshfield.

After all the money spent on a warm, dry bedroom, Micki & I lay there into the night, wide awake. The realization hit me. Despite the dream and the wonderful land and people, and all the help given to us, the winter had come and the project was too big. We had arrived too late with too little.

But even more than this, I thought of Washington and our family and friends there, and of looking out over the Sound at the boats and the countless islands, and the tall, straight evergreens that provide light wood that you can nail easily through, where you needn't worry about removing ticks and chiggers and running from snakes, where all the places are familiar but yet so many places unseen. I wanted to build a boat. I wanted to collect shells; and build furniture out of cedar and fir and pine. I wanted to be well again. (I guess it's been all the temperature changes both outdoors and with wood heat indoors that has kept me, and Leif, sick ever since we arrived in Missouri, not to mention the pollen. I kept working despite, but coughed myself to sleep every night and now I even have "pink-eye," of all things.)

We decided to go home to Washington 

It wasn't easy to leave. Telling Calvin & Carol our new plans turned out to be the easiest part. They agreed that we had come too late in the year with too little money to work with, and were very practical and gracious. The hardest part was to say good-bye to our dream—to see the sixty logs stacked neatly into the air after being hauled from the hill by Owl and Maude; to look over the huge garden space that Micki spent sweaty hours and days clearing; to see the spring finally come to life and the Lund River starting to flow; to see the unused lumber and firewood, and the slightly used, double-seater outhouse; to walk along the fence I had strung through the undeveloped woods, along the trail I had made with a machete; to walk on the gravel in the driveway that Micki had shoveled from the riverbed and hauled day-by-day by wheelbarrow; to gaze up at the large oaks and hickories and elms and, yes, even the locusts. It was hard to wind our way away on those hilly dirt roads and think of those friendly neighbors as we passed their houses and farms and stores. 

It wasn't a waste to go there. The dream may stand unfinished, but love and generosity and friendship will continue forever. We learned how to love hard work, and the value of giving. We experienced the unsurpassed beauty of simplicity and of "making do." We've learned that, despite goals and education and success and experience, just staying alive on God's earth is a value in itself. We've been given a new appreciation for the family and for cooperation. God has become more than a doctrinal study. We've grown a little wiser regarding discipline and judgment. We've become intimate with people of other philosophies and histories; and have had another lesson in individualism in the midst of tolerance. We've gone into an area we feared and hated, and learned instead to love it. And our lesson from God's Word continues—"Owe no man, except for the debt of love."

Our time in Missouri was well spent and we'll never regret going there nor one iota of the work we did or the sweat we shed.

. . .

October 14, 2021

We did return to Washington State and also had joys and sufferings there. In 1995 we came again to our beloved Ozarks, with more financial stability and new dreams. The Vos family, much larger, had moved north. Calvin has passed away from bone cancer. They are greatly missed. Our little log cabin is gone, and someone built a house on the land instead. But really very little has changed between Marshfield and Seymour, and the Amish can be seen driving their buggies along the roads. We've now lived in Branson in the Missouri Ozarks for 26 years.

Two years after we struggled to finish our log cabin before winter, the New Orleans World's Fair happened, and an Army buddy and I took a road trip to the Fair and to visit a common buddy in Illinois. And of course we stopped to see Calvin & Carol and the Ozarks. Our cabin still stood, exactly as we left it except for aging a little. It was a bittersweet sojourn, gazing at it and remembering the dream. I picked up one of the countless pebbles that Micki had hauled from the riverbed to our driveway, and brought it home to Washington, had a jeweler cut it down and mount it into a silver necklace, and gave it to Micki along with this poem:

THE PRICELESS STONE

On a day when we were no longer content,

We sold many things in a sale;

Then we took our new money and new car and went

Along a Missouri trail.

Without going into every detail,

There are some things that I must say;

Although the adventure would finally fail,

We succeeded in many a way.

One thing that'll always stick in my head

Is how you took load after load

Of stones from the bottom of the river bed

And used them to build us a road!

I watched you work then, as I've done 'fore and since,

Watched you without your knowing;

You maybe don't know—or have any hints—

That I love you for the love you are sowing.

But to let you know that I know what you do,

I returned to our homestead again

For a rock from the road that you built—yes it's true—

A fact little known to you then.

It lay in my desk for years until now,

One rock among thousands you carried;

I wanted to use it to show you somehow 

How happy I am that we're married.

You've labored so very hard in your love

For your loved ones, for us, and I love you;

And I'm sure that Our Father in Heaven above

Will, for your efforts, reward you.

Meanwhile this rock has been taken in glee

To a jeweler whose hands are not reckless;

A chip of this rock in silver placed he, 

As a symbol of your work in a necklace.

It's priceless, this stone, though no diamond or gold;

It's more priceless than the stars above;

For within it the knowing eye can behold

The work of the woman I love.

So I hope you will wear it and know in your heart

That your toil, your labor, your strife,

Has not been for naught, and my love I impart

To my dearest, most wonderful wife.

Love, Dale

______

For the complete contents of the Butter Rum Cartoon, click here.