the size of squirrel’s ears.”
“If it’s dry enough, one of us can ride the harrow and the other one plant,” Soren said after mopping his plate with his bread and poking it into his mouth. “Pa says he’s putting in the potatoes today come hell or high-water.”
“It’s the dark of the moon. They’ll make less vine and more potatoes,” Uncle Gus said in way of explanation. “I’ve used the signs for as long as I can remember, and I always have a good crop.”
“Pa really believes in that nonsense.” Soren looked at Ana and winked.
“It’s not nonsense,” Uncle Gus said. “Dig a hole on the new of the moon and you’ll have dirt to throw away; but if you dig it on the old of the moon, you’ll not have enough to fill it back again.”
“Ana, do you believe in all this moon-sign bunkum?” Soren asked trying to keep a serious look on his face.
“Of course.” Her smile at Uncle Gus brought a flush of pleasure to his faded eyes.
“Try it, you young scutter, you. If it doesn’t work, I’ll give you a twenty-dollar gold piece.”
“Why, Pa. I didn’t know you threw your money away on foolishness!”
“My granny used to believe in the moon signs,” Ana picked up her coffee cup and blew on the steaming brew. “She said the blooms would fall off bean and cucumber vines if not planted in the light of the moon. She said they planted corn so that it would flower on the bright nights of the moon. My granny was from Kentucky, and she said they even butchered”—Ana paused, suddenly realizing how she was rattling on—“by the signs of the moon,” she finished lamely.
“Your granny sounds like a smart woman,” Uncle Gus nodded in agreement.
“She was.”
Owen got up and brought the large granite coffee pot to the table and filled the cups. He had just taken his place at the table when he cocked his head to listen. Ana heard a horse snort. Owen’s brows were drawn together in a familiar frown. He left his chair to go to the door. It opened before he reached it, and Esther stood there surveying the scene at the table with a scowl of disapproval on her face.
Soren was the first to speak. He got to his feet and reached her in two giant steps. He pulled her stiffened body into his arms and gave her a hug.
“As I live and breathe. Cousin Esther!”
“Hello, Soren,” she said pushing herself away from him. “What are you doing here? You usually show up in July.”
“I got homesick to see that smiling face of yours, Cousin Esther.” Soren captured her chin with his thumb and forefinger, not in the least put out by her cold response to his greeting. “Don’t you have a smile for your favorite cousin?”
She jerked her chin loose from his grasp. “Stop acting the fool, Soren,” she snapped. “I came to fix breakfast.”
“We’ve had breakfast. Mrs. Fairfax cooked us up a bait of ham and eggs.” Soren said pleasantly. “Mmmm . . . it was good.” He patted his midsection.
Esther’s icy glance swept over Ana, over the table, and into the empty egg basket sitting on the work counter.
“I see she used the eggs I was saving for a custard. Well, I hope you enjoyed them.”
“There’s more in the cellar, so don’t fuss about it.” Owen’s voice held only a slight rebuke.
“But not enough,” Esther snapped. “I suppose she used the cream too.”
“Esther! Don’t fuss.” The tick flashed in Owen’s jaw again.
“Don’t fuss? I got up an hour early to come over here and make you a custard. I find the eggs have been used and the kitchen in a mess.”
“I told you that you needn’t come today,” Owen said in the way of an answer.
“I always come on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I have for years and years. Why should my routine be disrupted just because
she’s
here?”
Ana looked up into Uncle Gus’s shy eyes. What she saw there was a brief glimmer of sympathy before he got up from the table and took the milk buckets from beneath the workbench. Soren went to
“If it’s dry enough, one of us can ride the harrow and the other one plant,” Soren said after mopping his plate with his bread and poking it into his mouth. “Pa says he’s putting in the potatoes today come hell or high-water.”
“It’s the dark of the moon. They’ll make less vine and more potatoes,” Uncle Gus said in way of explanation. “I’ve used the signs for as long as I can remember, and I always have a good crop.”
“Pa really believes in that nonsense.” Soren looked at Ana and winked.
“It’s not nonsense,” Uncle Gus said. “Dig a hole on the new of the moon and you’ll have dirt to throw away; but if you dig it on the old of the moon, you’ll not have enough to fill it back again.”
“Ana, do you believe in all this moon-sign bunkum?” Soren asked trying to keep a serious look on his face.
“Of course.” Her smile at Uncle Gus brought a flush of pleasure to his faded eyes.
“Try it, you young scutter, you. If it doesn’t work, I’ll give you a twenty-dollar gold piece.”
“Why, Pa. I didn’t know you threw your money away on foolishness!”
“My granny used to believe in the moon signs,” Ana picked up her coffee cup and blew on the steaming brew. “She said the blooms would fall off bean and cucumber vines if not planted in the light of the moon. She said they planted corn so that it would flower on the bright nights of the moon. My granny was from Kentucky, and she said they even butchered”—Ana paused, suddenly realizing how she was rattling on—“by the signs of the moon,” she finished lamely.
“Your granny sounds like a smart woman,” Uncle Gus nodded in agreement.
“She was.”
Owen got up and brought the large granite coffee pot to the table and filled the cups. He had just taken his place at the table when he cocked his head to listen. Ana heard a horse snort. Owen’s brows were drawn together in a familiar frown. He left his chair to go to the door. It opened before he reached it, and Esther stood there surveying the scene at the table with a scowl of disapproval on her face.
Soren was the first to speak. He got to his feet and reached her in two giant steps. He pulled her stiffened body into his arms and gave her a hug.
“As I live and breathe. Cousin Esther!”
“Hello, Soren,” she said pushing herself away from him. “What are you doing here? You usually show up in July.”
“I got homesick to see that smiling face of yours, Cousin Esther.” Soren captured her chin with his thumb and forefinger, not in the least put out by her cold response to his greeting. “Don’t you have a smile for your favorite cousin?”
She jerked her chin loose from his grasp. “Stop acting the fool, Soren,” she snapped. “I came to fix breakfast.”
“We’ve had breakfast. Mrs. Fairfax cooked us up a bait of ham and eggs.” Soren said pleasantly. “Mmmm . . . it was good.” He patted his midsection.
Esther’s icy glance swept over Ana, over the table, and into the empty egg basket sitting on the work counter.
“I see she used the eggs I was saving for a custard. Well, I hope you enjoyed them.”
“There’s more in the cellar, so don’t fuss about it.” Owen’s voice held only a slight rebuke.
“But not enough,” Esther snapped. “I suppose she used the cream too.”
“Esther! Don’t fuss.” The tick flashed in Owen’s jaw again.
“Don’t fuss? I got up an hour early to come over here and make you a custard. I find the eggs have been used and the kitchen in a mess.”
“I told you that you needn’t come today,” Owen said in the way of an answer.
“I always come on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I have for years and years. Why should my routine be disrupted just because
she’s
here?”
Ana looked up into Uncle Gus’s shy eyes. What she saw there was a brief glimmer of sympathy before he got up from the table and took the milk buckets from beneath the workbench. Soren went to
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