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Show 156 weep. If the full impact had hit me, or the full knowledge of what was ahead I would have had no trouble finding tears. My role was suddenly changed. I could ride a horse better than most: Ershel had taught me the handkerchief trick. I could tromp hay, haul grain, irrigate, plow, plant and harvest, but I was no housekeeper, but was the next in line as home-maker in a household of ten people. Of course, I knew how to do single chores, predominantly washing the endless dishes so many people engender; I knew how to make beds, sweep and dust, mop, separate the milk, churn, make pies and biscuits. I knew how to wash and iron, and was studying sewing and cooking in school. I had long been the one to rake the yard in spring, water the lawn and flower garden, clean out the chicken coop and garden-all womens' jobs. I could feed the chickens and gather the eggs, put an old hen to set, or chop off a chicken's head. But putting these together to form the symphony of home-making was beyond me. Time got away from me and I would find myself cleaning out a drawer when dinner should be on. Harold was barely over his brush with death, still weak and thin, going on three. Rachel was a little past five, Grant seven, Vetris ten, Revo thirteen and Macel fifteen. There were four men to cook for, including Eldon and Uncle Will, eleven of us in all. The Relief Society sisters took over the task of making the girls' dresses for the Fourth, |
