Chapter 19: Mr. Edwards Meets Santa Claus

"Laura was anxious because Christmas was near, and Santa Claus and his reindeer could not travel without snow. Mary was afraid that, even if it snowed, Santa Claus could not find them, so far away in Indian Territory. When they asked Ma about this, she said she didn't know."

Winter has come to the prairie. The days are short and cold, but no snow falls. Only rain, rain, and more rain.

Mary and Laura stay close by the fire and work on their nine-patch quilt blocks. Or they work on cutting paper dolls from scraps of wrapping paper. Laura is worried that Santa won't be able to come see them since there is no snow, only rain.

At last it is Christmas Eve. The rain still falls, but by noon the clouds break apart and the sun shines. Laura and Mary can hear the creek roaring down in the creek bottom. Now they know they will have no Christmas because Santa Claus will not be able to get across the flooded, rushing creek.

Pa goes hunting and brings back a giant turkey. It is for Christmas dinner, but Mr. Edwards will not be able to join them because there is no way for him to get across the creek. Ma says it is too bad, having to eat bachelor cooking on Christmas Day.

"A man would risk his neck, trying to cross the creek now," Pa says. "We'll just have to make our minds up that Edwards won't be here tomorrow."

No Santa Claus and no company. Laura and Mary try not to mind too much. They are lucky little girls to have a nice, warm house and a good turkey dinner to look forward to. Ma tells them that they have been such good girls this year that Santa hasn't forgotten them---he will surely come next year.

But Laura and Mary are still not happy.

At night Laura and Mary lie down in their beds. Pa and Ma sit silently by the fire. Ma asks Pa to play the fiddle, but he says, "I don't seem to have the heart to, Caroline."

Ma gets up. "I'm going to hang up your stockings, girls. Maybe something will happen." Laura's heart gives a leap, but then she remembers the swollen creek. Nothing can happen. But Ma hangs up the stockings, anyway, one on either side of the fireplace.

The next morning, Laura wakes up when Jack begins to growl and the door-latch to rattle. Pa lets Mr. Edwards into the house. His teeth are chattering and his voice is shivering. He says he carried his clothes on his head while he swam the creek.

"It was too big a risk," Pa says.

"Your little ones had to have a Christmas," Mr. Edwards says. "Nothing could stop me after I fetched their gifts from Independence."

Laura sits bolt upright in bed. "Did you see Santa?," she yells.

Mr. Edwards says he did, and Laura and Mary are so excited they pepper him with questions. It is hard for them not to peek while Ma puts the presents in the stockings, but Laura and Mary listen to Mr. Edwards tell the story of how he met Santa in Independence and how Santa asked him to deliver the gifts for two sweet, pretty, good little girls on the Verdigris River.

At last Ma says the stockings are ready. Laura and Mary race to the fireplace and begin to explore their treasures. The first thing they find is a bright, shiny, new cup, one for each of them!  Then they each find a stick of red and white striped candy. Next are pretty cakes sprinkled with white sugar, and then down in the toes, each girl gets a bright copper penny. Oh, there has never been such a Christmas!

Ma, Pa, and Mr. Edwards look like they are about to cry, but Laura and Mary are just happy, happy, happy.

Thoughts:
Imagine if you gave your children a Little House Christmas. One tin cup, one small cake sprinkled with white sugar, one candy stick, and one bright, copper penny. OK, you can be really nice and allow for inflation---give them 15 cents. You might get excited shrieks on Christmas morning, but I doubt they'd be from joy!

It can be hard to impress the jaded young whippersnappers of today, but every year parents keep trying. They know that almost nothing feels better than seeing that look of pure delight on their child's face and knowing that they put it there. 

"When Ma opened the door, Laura and Mary heard the creek roaring. They had not thought about the creek. Now they knew there would be no Christmas, because Santa Claus could not cross that roaring creek

But sadly, as we all know, not every child is able to experience a happy Christmas. In fact, on a global scale, probably most children don't get one. That is why a program like Operation Christmas Child is so valuable and has such enduring success. For those of you who don't know, Operation Christmas Child is a program that collects shoe boxes filled with small toys and gifts by donors and sends them to needy children around the world.

I've always wanted to fill a shoe box like all the "cool" people, but could never get past the mid-November collection date. They collect the boxes early to allow for shipping to the various countries in time for Christmas. And I never had my "Christmas" hat in place and operational until after Thanksgiving.

But last year I managed to pack one shoe box and get it mailed off by the collection date. That's all it took---I'm a shoe box addict now.

The year is still young, but I've been collecting things for boxes, hitting all the post-holiday sales to pick up little odds and ends on clearance. So far I've collected a pretty decent size pile, and if I keep this up all year, I'll be able to pack a bunch of boxes to bring happiness to little kidlet hearts.

Some of the things I've found so far are gloves (those stretchy kinds that are $1 for 2 pairs this time of year), jump ropes, hair sets, little handbags, and animal shaped soaps from the after-Christmas sales, mini dinosaurs and mini purses from the party favor area, stickers, heart stamps, and disc shooters (you may thank me, grateful international parents) from Valentines day, and various other little things.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Edwards! Thank you!," they said, and they meant it with all their hearts. Pa shook Mr. Edward's hand, too, and shook it again. Pa and Ma and Mr. Edwards acted as if they were almost crying, Laura didn't know why. So she gazed at her beautiful presents."

But I wanted something that I could hand make. The Operation Christmas Child Pintrest boards have lots of good ideas, some of which I hope to try by Christmas. However, I wanted to come up with something original for this blog----some little project that could be made to make some child as happy as Mr. Edwards made Laura and Mary with his simple gifts.

So I (out of my very own head, said with pardonable---yet modest----pride) designed this easy-peasy T-shirt bean bag.

 Don't freak out if it looks difficult and complicated. I made the first one and thought the whole way through that it wasn't going to work---my seams weren't straight, it didn't look right, etc. But as soon as I cut the fringes, it looked fine and worked just the way I'd hoped. Afterward, I helped my 12 year old nephew make his own, cutting, sewing, and everything, and it turned out fine, too. It's really a very forgiving project.

Step 1: Pick T-shirts in whatever color combination you want. This is a great way to use up shirts that are stained or torn.

Step 2: Trace 6 circles on your T-shirts---2 small, 2 medium, and 2 large, varying the colors. I used a 9 inch, an 8 inch, and a 6 1/2 inch circle.

Step 3: Cut out circles. OK, so this one is a no-brainer, but I'm trying to be complete with my instructions here.

Step 4: Sew one of the medium circles to one of the large ones. I measured three inches in from the edge of each fabric piece to make my seam line . Repeat with the other medium and large circle.

Step 5:  Put the small circles on top of the two circles you've sewn together. Measure 3 inches in from the edge of the smaller pieces of fabric. Sew the small pieces to the top of the medium circles (the large circles are underneath the medium, already sewn on...you will sew through all the layers). You should end up with two halves that look like this. Now you are ready to sew the halves together.

Step 6: Measure the same distance of three inches from the edge of your large fabric pieces. When you sew your halves together, right sides out (this means all the fabric pieces are on the outside), make sure that you don't catch any of your other fabric pieces in the seam. Keep them pulled back as you sew. At the end, leave a small opening in your seam to stuff the beans through.

If you're like me, it will never be big enough and you'll have to open it more to make it work.
 

Step 7: Fill the bean bag with beans to the desired weight. When you have it as full as you want, stitch the opening shut, either with the sewing machine if you can make it work, or by hand-sewing.

Step 8: Now you are ready to clip the fringe. Work with one layer at a time, being careful that you never clip through a seam.

Step 9: I found it worked best to make cuts dividing it into fourths, then cut fringe in each of the fourths until every layer has been completely fringed. It should look like this when you are finished...

Step 10: Shake it out and play with it to your heart's content! This is a super-fun, awesome update to the classic bean bag.

Even if you're not a handy person and the mere thought of sewing sends you into a cold sweat, I hope you will still give shoe boxes a try. You don't have to make everything yourself like some mutant Martha Stewart clone; with a little time and forethought, a shoe box can be stuffed very easily and inexpensively. It's a great way for kids to realize how blessed they are and it gives them a chance to give back just a little.

"Pa, and Ma, and Mr. Edwards sat by the fire and talked about Christmas times back in Tennessee and up north in the Big Woods. But Mary and Laura looked at their beautiful cakes and played with their pennies and drank water out of their new cups. And little by little they licked and sucked their sticks of candy, till each stick was sharp-pointed on one end.

That was a happy Christmas."

Chapter 18: The Tall Indian

"Indians came riding on the path that passed so close to the house. They went by as though it were not there......

"I thought that trail was an old one they didn't use any more," Pa said. "I wouldn't have built the house so close to it if I'd known it's a highroad.'"

Autumn hangs over the prairie. Nature is busy preparing for the long, cold winter to come, and the Indians are busy making preparations, too. Many, many Indians ride past on the little trail that goes right past the house. It makes Ma nervous and it makes Jack very angry. Jack believes that the trail belongs to Pa, and he tries very hard to keep the Indians off of it.

One evening, the family looks up and sees a tall Indian standing in the doorway. Jack jumps at him, but Pa catches the dog just in time. Pa ties Jack to a bed post and goes and squats by the fire with the tall Indian. They sit there together while Ma finishes supper, both friendly, but neither one speaks. Ma gives Pa and the Indian their suppers on two tin plates and they eat right there by the fire.

After supper, Pa shares his tobacco with the Indian and they smoke their pipes. When the pipes are empty, the Indian tries to say something to Pa, but Pa can't understand. He shakes his head and says, "No speak." They sit a while longer and then the Indian stands up and goes away without a sound.

Pa says the tall Indian is probably an Osage.  He thinks the Indian tried to speak in French, but Pa doesn't speak French. Ma is worried about the Indians and hopes they keep to themselves. Pa tells her that the camps around the little house are friendly and if they treat the Indians well and watch Jack, they shouldn't have any trouble.

The very next morning, Pa looks out the window and sees Jack standing on the Indian trail. There is an Indian on his pony and Jack will not let him pass. The Indian raises his gun, but Pa grabs Jack and pulls him out of the way. After this, Jack has to stay chained to the house in the day time and to the stable door at night. There are horse thieves around and Pa wants Pet and Patty to be safe.

Winter is coming and the animals are all wearing their thick, winter coats. Pa goes out and sets his traps, bringing back wolves, foxes, beaver, muskrat, and mink. He dries the skins and piles the hides in the corner.

One day, while Pa is hunting, two Indians walk into the house. Jack is chained up, and the Indians help themselves to all Ma's cornbread and all Pa's tobacco. They know that Pa is gone because his gun is missing from the hooks above the fireplace. One of them grabs all the furs sitting in the corner. Ma stands there with the girls close to her. There is nothing she can do.

The other Indian argues with the one holding the furs. Finally, he drops the furs and both Indians go away. Ma sits down and hugs Laura and Mary. Ma's heart is beating fast, but she smiles and says, "I'm thankful they didn't take the plow and seeds." Laura is surprised, but Ma explains that the plow and seed for next spring is in the bundle of furs.

When Pa comes home and hears the news, he looks sober. But he says all is well that ends well.

Thoughts:
I'll bet Ma wanted to clock him one when he said that! A mother always has a harder time being pragmatic about the risks to her kids. But it was an era of risks. A mother could only hope to keep all her kids alive through childhood; many didn't make it.

So for this chapter I attempted something very dangerous. Something that I doubt I will ever try again.

I invited my family over for a silent meal.

I thought it would be a fun and interesting to experience an evening of non-verbal communication. What a challenge it would be, especially for the kids! But we're a creative bunch, so I figured we'd come up with some great ways to communicate.

We sounded like a bunch of deranged squirrels.

The evening got off to a late start due to the delayed arrival of our guests. My carefully prepared meal languished on the counter, but some of my righteous indignation evaporated later when I discovered that it hadn't even finished cooking all the way. That's OK, I like crunchy french fries....

My guests arrived and had a shocked, yet stunned reaction to the news. And then I got my camera out. So they had to re-do shocked-yet-stunned several times before I got a photo I liked. Authenticity, baby!

"Pa dragged Jack to the bedpost and tied him there. While he was doing it, the Indian came in and squatted down by the fire.

Then Pa squatted down by the Indian, and they sat there, friendly but not saying a word, while Ma finished cooking dinner."

The idea was that we would all get our plates, pose for a few squatting pictures, and then relax into a comfortable dinner on the floor. The process was hampered by the fact that nobody but me knew what was going on.

Everyone milled around like sheep in the kitchen. 

I motioned for everyone to get their plates.

People started to get their plates. And eat from them.

Noooooo! Don't eat from them, pose with them! Communicated through shrill, deranged squirrel squeaks.

My guests looked understandingly puzzled. First, I invited them for dinner, then motioned them to get their plates, then squeaked at them shrilly when they tried to eat.

Let's try this again.

I led them boldly into the living room.

They sat on the floor.

Squat! Don't sit! Shrill, deranged squirrel squeaks.

After many rounds of squirrel charades where I demonstrated taking my plate, squatting, and smiling for the camera, most of the group caught on to what I wanted. So I pushed the timer and hurried to get in the picture.

Note to self: if you ever want a flattering self-portrait, do not squat in front of a camera.

By this time the kids had caught onto the possibilities of our situation. Somehow Noni and I didn't inspire awed obedience while frowning fiercely and squeaking. So the kids started running amok. After all, if they got in trouble, they had plausible deniability. "How was I to know you didn't want me rappelling from the ceiling? You didn't SAY so!"

Finley began to see the potential of having all the plates down at nose level. If we didn't want him to poke his snout in hopefully, we would have been at the table, wouldn't we?

The actual meal went rather quickly. After all, if you don't pause to converse, you can do a lot more chewing.

"Laura and Mary were close together and quiet on their bed in the corner. They couldn't take their eyes from that Indian He was so still that the beautiful eagle-feathers in his scalp-lock didn't stir. Only his bare chest and the leanness under his ribs moved a little to his breathing."

My guests were supposed to get up and leave after the meal, just as the Indian had done. However, nothing so far had gone according to plan, and this was no different. Having eaten, the kids were ready to play.

Devon showed us a few of his new wrestling moves. Noni kindly allowed herself to be taken down. Devon has not yet attained, shall we say, heavy-weight status as a wrestler.

Then everyone tried a round of Indian leg wrestling. This was a bit of a challenge since some of us (mainly me) had forgotten just how it worked. I found squirrel squeaks less than adequate in explaining the process, so I was unprepared. Of course that was the reason Damon beat me. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Caleb got a nice ego boost by wrestling Devon. I wonder who's going to win????

At last, the company left. Noni had to squeak very sternly at them, but eventually even the last stragglers trickled out. It was so nice to be able to speak again! Not talking is WAY more tiring than talking.

All in all, the evening was fun and definitely memorable, but I still don't want to give up speech. I don't know how parents that can't talk manage....they must have some very obedient kids! Or some very forceful sign language.

Chapter 17: Pa Goes to Town

"Before dawn, Pa went away. When Laura and Mary woke, he was gone and everything was empty and lonely. It was not as though Pa had only gone hunting. He was gone to town and he would not be back for four long days."

Laura and Mary stay in the house with Ma all morning. It is too big and empty outside with Pa gone. At noon Laura and Ma goes outside to move the cow's picket line to fresh grass. Then they go back inside until evening chore time.

Ma is just putting on her bonnet to go milk the cow when all the hair stands up on Jack's back and he rushes out of the house. They hear a yell, "Call off your dog! Call off your dog!" It is Mr. Edwards. Pa asked him to come by each day and check on Ma and the girls. He has come at chore time so he can help with the chores.

But now he is on top of the woodpile with Jack growling and trying to get to him. Ma makes Jack let Mr. Edwards down, but Jack keeps an eye on him the whole time he is doing chores.

That night everything is dark and lonely. A wolf howls out on the prairie, but Laura is not afraid. Ma has pulled the latch string through the stout door and Jack is in the house with them. Nothing can get to them; they are safe.

The next day is empty and long like the first one. Mrs. Scott comes to visit and talks to Ma. She says interesting things about massacres, but Ma changes the subject. Later Ma says Laura will have to be older before she can know what a massacre is.

Mr. Edwards comes again to help with chores and Jack chases him up the wood pile again. Laura and Mary think about Pa, camping that night in the town of Independence. Tomorrow morning he will shop and by tomorrow afternoon he should be on his way home again!

The wind blows bitterly cold for the next two days. Pa must travel into the wind to reach the little log cabin. On the second day, Laura and Mary begin to watch for Pa. They wait all afternoon and all evening, but Pa doesn't come. Only the wind blows and blows and blows.

Ma lets them stay up and wait for Pa, but finally Laura falls asleep sitting up on the bench. She falls right onto the floor and Ma says they must go to bed. Ma sits by the fire in her rocking chair waiting and waiting.

Laura doesn't even know when she falls asleep again, but next thing she knows, Pa is standing in the cabin. His clothes are cold and his boots are caked with frozen mud. He is very tired, but he wraps Laura and Mary in Ma's shawl and takes them on his lap. He is glad to be home.

Pa drinks a cup of nice, hot coffee and shows Ma and the girls the treasures he has brought from town. First he shows them a flat, square package wrapped carefully in brown paper. It is full of eight small squares of glass for their window! Ma is so pleased; now they will be able to look out the window this winter.

Pa also shows them a little paper sack full of pure, white sugar. Ma puts it away carefully to be used when company comes. Pa has also brought lots of nails, salt pork, tobacco for him, and cornmeal for corn bread. It is so nice. Now they will have enough of everything all winter long.

Thoughts:
It's kind of interesting to read this chapter just as I'm gearing up for another monthly shopping trip. Once a month I go buy out Walmart and haul home hundreds of different kinds of items---pet supplies, groceries, household items, etc., etc. You know, just the simple necessities for modern life. Perhaps I should surprise Caleb by coming back this time with only cornmeal and sugar. Wouldn't he be excited!

Now, I know that the cornmeal Pa picked up in Independence was already ground at a mill somewhere. Even in those pioneer days, women had risen up in rebellion against the ancient method of hand milling. In fact, grist mills date back before the Roman Empire. Those ancient housewives must have been feisty!

But I wanted to try grinding corn the OLD-fashioned way. It seemed more authentic. More real. More in touch with history. More like I had no mill to use.

So I went out in the bitter cold and selected two nice rocks. It was a complicated selection process with stringent requirements----mainly I had to be able to kick them loose from where they were frozen to the ground.

Then they went through an important seasoning process where I scrubbed off all the dirt and dead vegetation. There was a limit to the amount of crunch I was willing to accept in my corn muffin.

I dried the rocks and placed a handful of popcorn kernels on the bottom rock. Popcorn kernels are smaller than regular grinding corn, but still work.

Then I started to grind the corn. Turns out dry corn is pretty hard...the kernels went flying and suffered no noticeable damage in the process. But I kept at it, though I did mentally downsize the amount of cornmeal I planned to get.

It was around this time that Caleb got home from school. Slam! "I'm starving, Mom! What's for dinner?"

He walks into the kitchen and sees me with my two rocks, grinding away at the corn.

"I'm making supper as fast I can, Sweety."

"Are you kidding me!?"

Have you ever seen a teenage boy cry?

My dad also stopped by, but somehow didn't want to stay for dinner. I don't know why---cornbread and chili beans is one of his favorite meals. He did let me know a fascinating historical fact: Old-fashioned stone-ground grain had powdered bits of rock in it and actually ground off people's teeth over time.  

Hmmmm. Maybe I'll just mix the cornmeal in only ONE special  muffin!

I worked at it for about twenty minutes before I got bored.  My family never would have made it back in ancient times! Or they would have learned to like REALLY crunchy bread. By the time I finished, I had quite a bit of powder on my grinding rock-----but still mixed in with large chunks of hardened corn. So I mentally downsized my expectations yet again and ran it all through a colander.

I ended up with about a tablespoon of extremely....hearty cornmeal. And I think almost half of it was actually corn!

Fiesta Surprise Cornbread:

2 1/2 c flour
2 c cornmeal
1/2 c sugar
4 t baking pwd.
1 t salt (I think I would increase this by at least 1/4 t next time)

Mix together

2 eggs
2 1/4 c milk
1/2 c melted butter
1/2 c frozen corn
1 4-oz. can green chilis
1 can sliced olives

Mix in separate  bowl and fold into mix; add small amount of water if needed.  Pour into greased pan and bake at 350  35-40 minutes until done.

That's an OLIVE, not a rock.....

Ready to eat the delicious "special" muffin that has the homemade cornmeal mixed in it......

First bite......

Mmmmmmmm! Tastes good.

But even Caleb can hear the chunks of corn? grinding in my mouth....

Delicious! I would recommend this recipe to anyone.

Though you may want to leave out the authentic stone-ground part......

Just a suggestion.

"Everything was alright when Pa was there. And now he had nails, and cornmeal, and fat pork, and salt, and everything. He would not have to go to town again for a long time."

Chapter 16: Fire in the Chimney

"The prairie had changed. Now it was a dark yellow, almost brown, and red streaks of sumac lay across it. The wind wailed in the tall grass, and it whispered sadly across the curly, short buffalo grass. At night the wind sounded like someone crying."

It is fall. The days are growing shorter and cooler. It is time for Pa to go to town. He couldn't go during the heat of summer because it would have been too hard for Pet and Patty. Pa gets the grass-hay cut and stacked by the barn, ready for winter. Now all he has to do is go hunting so Ma and the girls won't run out of meat while he is gone.

The next morning Pa takes his gun and heads down into the creek bottoms. There are lots of geese and wild ducks by the creek, resting on their way south. Laura and Mary hear a shot echo in the woods and they know Pa has got some meat.

That afternoon the wind is cold and fierce. Pa is still not back from hunting, but Ma calls Laura and Mary into the house. Ma builds up the fire and sits rocking Baby Carrie. The wind blows and blows.

Laura hears a crackling noise in the chimney. Ma hears it, too, because she leans forward and looks up the chimney. Then she gets up, puts Baby Carrie in Mary's arms and pushes her into the rocking chair. Ma hurries outside and Laura runs after her.

The whole top of the chimney is on fire! The chimney-top is made of sticks and mud, and all the sticks are burning up. Ma grabs a long pole and starts hitting the burning chimney, trying to knock it away from the house. Laura grabs a pole too, but Ma tells her to stay away. Burning sticks are falling all around them and Ma doesn't want Laura to get hurt.

Laura runs back into the house. Burning sticks are falling down the chimney and the house is full of smoke. One big stick rolls off the hearth and right under Mary's skirts. Mary is too afraid to move, but Laura grabs the great, heavy rocking chair and pulls it backward, moving Mary and Baby Carrie to safety. Then she grabs the burning stick and throws it back into the fireplace just as Ma comes in.

"That's a good girl," says Ma. She pours water all over the fire in the fireplace. Soon there is nothing left but a very smokey house. When Pa comes home, he finds the fire out and the house very cold. He goes to cut green sticks and builds the chimney up again so Ma can roast the four fat ducks he brought home.

Soon the house is snug and warm again. Pa says he will head for town early the next morning. Ma is happy. Now she can mail a letter to the folks back in Wisconsin. They can write back during the winter, and she might even hear from them as early as next spring.

Thoughts:
Well, another challenging chapter. When is Laura going to do something like read a book, do a demure sewing project, or play on the computer? All this death-defying stuff wears a person out!

What a narrow escape they all had! It would be bad enough to have to fight a fire now, with hoses and water, and the fire department on the way because you called them on your cell phone. But Ma and the girls were out in the middle of a (dry) prairie with no resources except what their own efforts and ingenuity could provide.

And then to do all of that in a long dress and heavy petticoat. It's no wonder so many women suffered horrible burns or lost their life after their clothing caught fire. But for Laura's quick actions, Mary and Carrie might well have been buried out there on the windswept Kansas prairie.

So what to do for this chapter? I had no intention of lighting myself on fire, no matter how educational it might be. But there was no reason not to light someone ELSE on fire. Especially someone like Flamin' Fanny.

I started by going to the thrift store to find a dress I wouldn't feel bad about burning. It had to be ugly enough to deserve incineration and made of a cotton-type material, similar to the highly flammable calico that most pioneer dresses were made out of.  I found one that fit both criteria nicely. And a big thank you to the kind-hearted thrift store ladies who tried to find something nice to say about it.

"My. That dress is....interesting, Mabel."

"Yes, it is, Nancy. You don't see something like that every day. It's...........pretty."

Ladies, I'm going to burn it alive. You don't have to try so hard.

The dress wasn't quite long enough, so I added to its splendor by sewing a panel of brightly colored sheet material around the bottom. Lovely.

Then I had to wait several days for the temperature to get out of the minuses and the wind to die down. I had no intention of suffering while I burned Miss Fanny. At last the day dawned with mild enough conditions go conduct my little...experiment.

Because this is a family blog...

Fanny was constructed by Caleb out of a couple of 2x4's with an attractive pumpkin head. She was dressed in a full cotton sheet for a petticoat to give her those extra layers of combustible comfort. Then we fitted her dress over the top and fixed her hair. Voila, Flamin' Fanny, the Fearless Frontier Female.

The idea was to build a small fire at the feet of Fanny, then document her dress catching fire....perhaps smoldering a bit first, then a finger of flame licking up her gown, and finally, the tragic conflagration. That was the idea, anyway.

Didn't quite work out that way....

I built the fire alright, using cardboard and old shingles. I lit it in a couple of places, but the wind was still brisk and the little flames guttered and went out. It's 15 degrees outside, and I don't have much time to lay a pretty fire and coax it to life.

Time for the gasoline.

I am actually a HUGE chicken when it comes to fire, and while a male-type would probably splash some carelessly from the can onto the little firelet, I wasn't about to do any such thing. I poured a little bit on a shingle and laid it on the fire.

Let's just say it "caught".

By the time I could take 3 steps back from the fire, grab my camera, and turn it on......well, Fanny was already fully involved. It wasn't just because of the gas. She was actually starting to go before I even got the shingle over there. It was just that her dress went up SO quickly.

If she were a pioneer woman, she would have had 10 seconds or less to respond and get the fire out before it got critically bad.

So here is the first shot I got off of poor Fanny...

At this stage, I think she could have still been saved. Some quick thinking and some stop-drop-and-roll, and she could have gotten the fire out. The same things that made it so dangerous---her thick petticoat and long dress---would help to protect her in those first few seconds...which I imagine were usually spent running and screaming; perhaps trying to tear the dress away.

"'Don't cry, Laura," Ma said, stroking her hair. "Were you afraid?"

"Yes," Laura said. "I was afraid Mary and Carrie would burn up. I was afraid the house would burn up and we wouldn't have any house. I'm--I'm scared now!"

The next sequence of photos (and the video that follows) were all taken during the same minute---the last minute of Fanny's life.

Her hair went fast.....

VERY fast!

As you can see, she was not only in flames within a minute, but her dress was almost wholly consumed in those 60 seconds.

It was a very thrilling and educational experience, but one that was sobering as well. For too many women, Flamin' Fanny's fate was a terrifying reality; maimed or killed in the line of duty---by the very uniform required of their sex. It was a graphic reminder that nostalgia is a whole lot more romantic than actually living during "the good ol' days".

Poor Fanny!

Chapter 15: Fever 'n' Ague

"'Charles, do look at the girls," she said. "I do believe they are sick."

"Well, I don't feel too well myself," said Pa. "First I'm hot and then I'm cold, and I ache all over. Is that the way you feel, girls? Do your very bones ache?"

Mary and Laura said that was the way they felt. Then Ma and Pa looked a long time at each other and Ma said, "The place for you girls is bed.'"

Blackberries are ripe, and every long, hot afternoon Laura goes with Ma to help pick them. They grow in the brier-patches down in the creek bottom. Clouds of mosquitoes follow Ma and Laura wherever they go in the bushes. The mosquitoes like to suck the sweet juice from the blackberries, but they like to bite Laura and Ma just as much.

It is hard, itchy, pokey, sticky work, but every day they bring home pails full of berries to dry in the sun. And every day they eat as many berries as they want. Next winter they will have blackberries to stew.

Mary stays with Baby Carrie because she is older. There are hardly any mosquitoes in the house during the day, but at night, if there is no wind, the mosquitoes come in swarms. Pa burns smudge fires of damp grass to keep them away, but a good many come anyway.

Pa can't play his fiddle in the evenings because of the mosquitoes. Mr. Edwards does not come visiting anymore because of the mosquitoes. Pet and Patty and the colt and the calf and the cow are miserable because of the mosquitoes. And Laura is covered in mosquito bites.

"This won't last long," Pa says. "Fall's not far away, and the first cold wind will settle 'em."

But one morning Laura doesn't feel good. She feels cold even in the hot sun. Mary feels sick too. Ma feels Laura's cheek. "You can't be cold," she says. "Your face is as hot as fire."

Pa says he feels sick, too. Ma puts the two girls to bed in the middle of the day. Laura doesn't really go to sleep, but she doesn't feel awake either. She hears voices talking. Ma feeds her broth from a spoon. She feels Pa's hand shake while he gives her a cup of water. The water runs down her neck and the cup rattles against her teeth. She feels Ma's hand brush against her cheek and it's as hot as fire.

"Go to bed, Caroline."

"You're sicker than I am, Charles."

At last, Laura opens her eyes and sees bright sunshine. She hears Mary crying for a drink of water. Pa is lying on the floor by the big bed and Jack is pawing at him and whining. "I must get up. I must. Caroline and the girls." Pa tries to raise his head, but it falls back again.

All the time, Mary is crying and crying for water. Laura sees Ma's red face looking over the edge of the bed. "Laura, can you?" she whispers.

"Yes, Ma," Laura says. Laura gets out of bed, but she falls down. Jack licks her face and Laura grabs him to pull herself up again. She crawls all the way to the bucket and all the way back again. Mary drinks the whole dipper full of water and stops crying. Laura falls into bed again.

The next time Laura wakes up, she sees a coal-black face above hers. The face smiles and a deep voice says, "Drink this, little girl." Laura swallows the bitter medicine and falls asleep again. When she wakes up, she sees a big woman stirring the fire. It is Mrs. Scott and she stays with the family until they feel better.

Later, Mr. Tan comes. He is the black man that Laura saw and he is a doctor to the Indians. He was on his way north to Independence when he came to Pa's house. Jack, who normally chased away any strangers, came out and begged the doctor to come in. He did and he found the whole family more dead than alive. Mr. Tan stayed and helped them, then helped the other settlers up and down the creek who were all sick.

"It all comes from eating watermelons," said Mrs. Scott. "If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times..."

"What's that?" exclaimed Pa. "Who's got watermelons?"

Mrs. Scott says that one of the settlers down the creek has grown some. As soon as Pa feels better, he rides away and comes back with a big watermelon across his saddle. Ma doesn't want him to eat it, but Pa just laughs and gets his knife. It goes into the watermelon with a delicious sound. The green rind splits and shows the bright red inside with little black seeds.

Pa eats and eats, but Ma will not taste it or allow Laura, Mary, or Baby Carrie to have any. But Pa eats slice after slice.

Thoughts:
Poor little girls. How awful to be deprived of watermelon! Especially when your Pa is eating it right in front of you. I guess he didn't believe in suffering with the team...

I happen to love watermelon, but I don't think that a blog about me eating a slice of watermelon has much readability. Besides, winter watermelon is gross. I was feeling a bit under the weather for a few days, but nothing that compared with malaria. And it's the middle of winter, so mosquitoes are in pretty short supply---no trying out home-made pioneer repellent.

But this chapter did have one very strong possibility. Berry picking!

Berry picking, you say? In the middle of winter? Why, yes. As it so happens, I put in a few berry bushes this year. They produce the majority of their berries in summer, as you'd expect, but a few hardy berries can still be found in January if you know how to look for them.

So this morning I dressed and went out for a little winter berry picking....

In the middle of my berry patch---no mosquitoes!

"Now the blackberries were ripe, and in the hot afternoons Laura went with Ma to pick them. The big, black, juicy berries hung thick in brier-patches in the creek bottoms. Some were in the shade of trees and some were in the sun, but the sun was so hot that Laura and Ma stayed in the shade. There were plenty of berries."

 Actually, it is a little cold to go berry picking in winter. And snow gets down your boots. But it was worth it, because I was able to find enough blackberries for a small batch of jam.

Of course, you have to expect your fruit to be frozen when you pick it in January, so it's best to let it thaw before using it to cook with.

I used to take my kids out into the California heat every August and pick wild blackberries. I'd make jars and jars of jam, and some years that was the only jam we had. As a result, I got heartily sick of blackberry jam and my youngest got wildly sentimental about it. Now we live in a climate too cold for blackberries, so I have to buy them if I want to make any jam.

That was another reason for making jam for this chapter...it's my first home-made blackberry jam in years, and Caleb is eagerly awaiting the green-light to try some. (Not until the photography's done!)

There are lots of recipes for making jam---I used the one that came with the Sure-jell---but basics are the same. Start with everything clean and in good condition---no chipped glass or rusty, bent rings. The ratio of sugar and fruit is pretty important, so make sure you have the right amounts. I didn't have enough fruit for a full recipe, so I used only half a packet of pectin.

You can make jam without any powdered pectin. I usually do, but then, I usually use large amounts of  fresh fruit with lots of natural pectin in it. This was my first time using frozen fruit, so I elected to go with more of a sure bet than trying to guess the Shangri-la of "The Jelling Point".

I mashed my berries, taking care to leave hearty fruit chunks. It's not jammy enough if you can't see some berries.

Then I mixed the pectin into the berries and heated the mixture up on the stove. The whole thing has to come to a rolling boil before you can add the sugar.

 Once it was boiling hard enough that stirring didn't stop the boiling, I added the sugar in all at once and stirred it in. After that I had to watch it pretty closely; it only has to boil for 1 minute.

Once the one minute was over (plus a little more...I'm not good at watching closely), I scooped out the jam and filled my jars, taking care that the rims were clear of any jam. If there's anything in the way of the rubber ring on the lid, the lid won't seal properly. Oh, good, there was plenty left over to eat right away.

I had to process the jars in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes (give or take...I'm also not good at keeping an eye on the clock), but I'm sure it's safe.

 Really.


Of course, once they came out, there was the traditional death watch to see if the jars sealed, but both of them did. Now they are good for a year of shelf-life, but I don't think they'll make it that long around here, especially with Caleb around!

While the jam was brewing, I made batch of whole wheat bread, because there is NOTHING---and I mean NOTHING better with homemade jam than fresh baked bread. Plus bread is really photogenic  when you're doing a jam photo shoot...

Who knew food photography could be so fraught with danger?

Back, you FIENDS!!!!!!!!!

"Laura's fingers and her mouth were purple-black with berry juice. Her face and her hands and her bare feet were covered with brier scratches and mosquito bites. And they were spattered with purple stains, too, where she had slapped at the mosquitoes."

At last it was time to dig in and test the jam. Sorry if I look a little wild-eyed. That's really my sexy jam-eating face, in case you couldn't tell. 

Oh, yummy! So good. This really would be ruining my diet if I had ever bothered to start one.

It's fun to spend an afternoon making a delicious treat to eat. But it wouldn't be fun to do all the time because you had to, not because you wanted to. (I found that out just in the few years I canned all the family's jam in order to save money.) Now I can go to the store and get 10-12 different kinds of jam if that's what I want to do. I don't have to pick the fruit, clean it, peel it, cook it, or can it. I just open the jar, and if the lid sticks, I complain about that.

Truly, we are blessed in our modern lives. That's one reason I like to take some time to try things "the old-fashioned way". For one thing, should I ever NEED to know how to do this kind of thing, I'll be glad I learned. But mostly, it's just good to be reminded of how fortunate I am every minute of every day simply because of where----and when---I live.

Chapter 14: Indian Camp

"Pa wondered where the Indians had gone. He said they had left their little camp on the prairie. And one day he asked Laura and Mary if they would like to see the camp.

Laura jumped up and down and clapped her hands, but Ma objected.

"It is so far, Charles," she said. "And in this heat."

Pa's blue eyes twinkled. "This heat doesn't hurt the Indians and it won't hurt us," he said. "Come on, girls!"

Summer has come to the prairie. The wind is hot and the prairie grasses turn yellow under the sky. Pa wonders where the Indians have gone. They have left their little camp on the prairie, and one day Pa asks if Mary and Laura would like to go see it.

Laura jumps up and down in excitement, but Ma is worried that the trip is too much for her little girls. Pa says they will be fine, and soon they start out. Jack trots on ahead, for Pa said he could come today, then comes Pa, and after Pa come two very happy girls.

On they walk into the vast prairie. At last they dip down into the little hollow where the Indians had camped. Laura can't see the house anymore, but she knows it's there. Pa and the girls walk around looking at things. Laura sees the ashes from the Indian campfires, the bones scattered around where Indian dogs had chewed on them, and holes in the ground where the tent-poles had been. There are tracks from moccasins criss-crossing the ground.

Pa shows them how the Indians cooked their food over the campfire. And it is by the fire that Laura makes a wonderful discovery. There---right there in the dust----Laura finds a blue bead glittering. Soon Mary finds a red one. Then Laura and Mary hunt and hunt, filling their little hands with beads.

When it is time to go, Pa ties the beads in his handkerchief, Laura's in one corner and Mary's in the other. The sun is low in the sky and Pa sets a quick pace across the prairie. It is a long way home, and Pa carries Laura on his shoulder when she gets tired. But at last they reach home and find supper cooking on the fire and Ma setting the table.

The girls want Ma to look at the pretty beads they found, and she carefully unties the handkerchief. The beads are so pretty shining in the firelight. Laura points to her pile. "These are mine," she says.

"Carrie can have my beads," Mary says sweetly.

Ma waits to hear what Laura will say. Laura doesn't want to say anything. She wants to slap Mary and keep her beads. But at last she hangs her head and says, " Carrie can have mine, too."

"Those are my unselfish good girls," Ma says.

Ma gives Laura and Mary each a string, and they sit side by side and make a pretty necklace for Carrie. Perhaps Mary feels sweet and good inside, but Laura doesn't. But Laura feels a little better when she sees how happy Carrie is with her necklace.

Thoughts: 
Poor Laura. It is hard to have an older sister, particularly one with an unfortunate habit of perfection. Trust me on this. If only Laura and Mary had known how to make paper beads they wouldn't have had to worry about running out of Indian beads. Then they could have worried about running out of paper!

It's hard to imagine, in this crazy modern age where babies get ipads to play with, and little girls shed glitter wherever they go, what it must have been like back then. Think of a kid----any kid you know---and imagine what would happen if you gave them a handful of beads for Christmas. Think you'd get wonder, delight, and surprise? I doubt it.

But for Laura and Mary, this one little event made a memory they cherished their entire lives. I think that's a better deal than a Baby Ipad.

Id never made paper beads before this, so I looked up a handy instructional on the internet. Not to ruin the surprise, but this is a FUN activity. It's pretty easy if your fingers will cooperate, and you just can't get any cheaper than this for supplies. It would make a great activity for older girls who need something to do with their girly fingers besides texting interminably.

http://www.instructables.com/id/How-to-Make-Paper-Beads/

The instructions were posted by a group in Uganda that makes and sells just beautiful paper beads. The instructions are easy to follow and it has pictures to go with it. Very nice, and the projects they make are impressive.

But enough about them....I'm going to give you directions, too, just because I can.

Step 1: Select your paper. You can make very attractive and colorful beads using magazine pages, but I used patterned paper like you'd use for scrapbooking.

Step 2: Mark your paper for cutting. Here is where a visit to the other site might come in handy. It's very simple once you get the hang of it, but they have a nice graphic to illustrate.

Decide on the width of your bead. To make a bead 2 centimeters long, measure in from the edge of the paper 1 centimeter. Then draw a line from that back up to the top corner. This will give you a long, narrow triangle. It's a scrap piece.

Now go to the top of the page and measure 2 centimeters and mark it. Draw a line from the mark at the bottom of the page (the 1 centimeter mark) up to the 2 centimeter mark. Got that? You should have a long, narrow triangle shape. You can measure as many more as you want by measuring 2 centimeters over from the point of each triangle.

You can make beads of any size you want. The trick is to measure half the distance in from the edge the first time and then the full distance from then on.

I also found a pencil works better because the black lines show from a pen.

Step 3: Take a thin object----I used a toothpick, but a large needle or smoothed-out paper clip will also work---and wrap the LARGE end of your long, thin triangle around it. Make it nice, even, and tight. Begin rolling the paper, taking care to keep the paper centered. Don't be alarmed if it unrolls repeatedly. Hopefully you will get better as you go along. Let me know if it happens for you---I'm still waiting for it to happen to me!

Step 4: After your paper is all the way rolled, take a little dab of glue and stick down the end of it so it won't unravel. Now slide your bead off and you are ready to make another one.

"Laura picked it up, and it was a beautiful blue bead. Laura shouted for joy.
Then Mary saw a red bead, and Laura saw a green one, and they forgot everything but beads."

Step 5: After the beads are completed, string all of them on some stout wire or string. Make sure it is as wide as whatever you are planning to string them on so the holes don't close off. Paint them with clear varnish---even clear nail polish will do---and let them dry. It will take several coats to get the varnish thick enough.



Step 6: Get your inner designer on and make something gorgeous with your new beads!

I wanted to do a Christmas tree ornament, and had a rough idea in mind. I was inspired by a peacock feather for my color scheme, and I really like how it turned out. But I still don't think you'd look at my ornament and say, "That reminds me of peacock feathers."

I used a variety of sizes, plus I made two pendants by adding another, thinner triangle to the end of my piece to make a really, really long, thin triangle. I also incorporated some clear beads I had on hand.

I can't say enough nice things about this project. It is so fun to take harmless-looking strips of paper and create real beads out of them. And turning them into completed art is even more fun---though I did have to kick my cat out of the "design studio" (read: kitchen) when he wanted to "help."

"The beads made a beautiful string. Carrie clapped her hands and laughed when she saw it. Then Ma tied it around Carrie's little neck, and it glittered there."

So are you ready to see it? My very first paper bead Christmas tree ornament!

Now go make some of your own! You'll have lots of fun and there's no limit to the cool designs you can create---just change the color of the paper to change the color of your beads.