questions, but their business was not mine, so I made myself keep quiet.
I realized it was already evening when Mr. Abraham returned to his house, carrying the rest of the pie we’d shared. We must have been pouring tea at the time most people begin preparing for their evening meal. And I soon realized that Aunt Mari had planned it that way, to hold us over so we could sit down and eat a late dinner with Josiah when he came home.
Marigold already had a pot on the stove of cut apples cooking down for sauce, and we worked together to fill a second pot. I wished I could ask Marigold about herself and Mr. Abraham, but it was far too soon for me to be prying.
“I suppose I’d better leave a couple of burners open to get supper going after a while,” she said. “How would you like corned beef without any cabbage?”
“That would be fine,” I told her. “We’re not picky. And I’d like to help if I could.”
She said she had home-canned corned beef in the basement if I wouldn’t mind fetching a couple of jars. And we’d have apples and creamed squash and pie.
“I’ll need an order from the grocer before long,” she told me. “To add a little variety around here.”
“You have quite a bit of variety already,” I said. “Do you have a digging spade? There are carrots in the garden to be dug whenever you’d like to get them out of the ground.”
“Oh, did they make anything at all? They were choked by weeds last I saw them.”
“They may not have grown large, but there are definitely carrots out there.”
“Now see what a blessing you are,” she told me. “I’d have left them to the gophers and never known the difference. We’ll dig them tomorrow, Lord willing. We’ve got enough to do tonight getting some of this fruit canned and put away.”
She told me exactly where to find the corned beef in her “fruit room” in the basement, and I made my way carefully down the dimly lit stairway. She must have been sending Josiah down here for things lately or only using what was within reach in the kitchen. These stairs were far more difficult to maneuver than those going up to our bedroom. Darker, steeper, with two turns and a crack in one step wide enough to catch the heel of a shoe. I wouldn’t want Aunt Marigold to even try going down them.
Her basement had two generous rooms, the second of which was lined with shelves. Jars and jars filled over half of the available space, unfortunately most of them empty. It wasn’t hard to find the corned beef. There weren’t very many canned meats left. I was a bit surprised that she had home-canned meat at all, since she lived in town and had no livestock. But maybe she’d gotten extra from a local farmer.
I looked through the other jars, still wondering if we would be a burden to John’s aunt just by being here to eat her food. There was not near so much as I would like to see. Several pints of pickles and a few quarts of green beans. Six or eight jars of beets, and a few other things, but not much to speak of. Especially for the fall of the year with the summer garden nearly done. No wonder it had been important to her to save the pears from the squirrels. But maybe there was no real cause for concern. Maybe Marigold had an abundance of store-bought canned goods upstairs. Or plenty of money for the grocer when the time came.
I grabbed two jars of corned beef like she’d told me, though I really doubted we’d need more than one, even with Josiah likely coming in with a hearty appetite. I didn’t think I’d need very much after already eating pie, and I wasn’t sure my start at work today had been enough yet to earn my keep.
Marigold was cutting the squash when I came back up, and Eliza was enjoying the freedom we’d given her to try to cut an apple on her own.
“Thank you so much,” Marigold told me when I set the jars on the table. “You go right ahead with the apples if you don’t mind while I set these other things on to simmer.”
We’d
I realized it was already evening when Mr. Abraham returned to his house, carrying the rest of the pie we’d shared. We must have been pouring tea at the time most people begin preparing for their evening meal. And I soon realized that Aunt Mari had planned it that way, to hold us over so we could sit down and eat a late dinner with Josiah when he came home.
Marigold already had a pot on the stove of cut apples cooking down for sauce, and we worked together to fill a second pot. I wished I could ask Marigold about herself and Mr. Abraham, but it was far too soon for me to be prying.
“I suppose I’d better leave a couple of burners open to get supper going after a while,” she said. “How would you like corned beef without any cabbage?”
“That would be fine,” I told her. “We’re not picky. And I’d like to help if I could.”
She said she had home-canned corned beef in the basement if I wouldn’t mind fetching a couple of jars. And we’d have apples and creamed squash and pie.
“I’ll need an order from the grocer before long,” she told me. “To add a little variety around here.”
“You have quite a bit of variety already,” I said. “Do you have a digging spade? There are carrots in the garden to be dug whenever you’d like to get them out of the ground.”
“Oh, did they make anything at all? They were choked by weeds last I saw them.”
“They may not have grown large, but there are definitely carrots out there.”
“Now see what a blessing you are,” she told me. “I’d have left them to the gophers and never known the difference. We’ll dig them tomorrow, Lord willing. We’ve got enough to do tonight getting some of this fruit canned and put away.”
She told me exactly where to find the corned beef in her “fruit room” in the basement, and I made my way carefully down the dimly lit stairway. She must have been sending Josiah down here for things lately or only using what was within reach in the kitchen. These stairs were far more difficult to maneuver than those going up to our bedroom. Darker, steeper, with two turns and a crack in one step wide enough to catch the heel of a shoe. I wouldn’t want Aunt Marigold to even try going down them.
Her basement had two generous rooms, the second of which was lined with shelves. Jars and jars filled over half of the available space, unfortunately most of them empty. It wasn’t hard to find the corned beef. There weren’t very many canned meats left. I was a bit surprised that she had home-canned meat at all, since she lived in town and had no livestock. But maybe she’d gotten extra from a local farmer.
I looked through the other jars, still wondering if we would be a burden to John’s aunt just by being here to eat her food. There was not near so much as I would like to see. Several pints of pickles and a few quarts of green beans. Six or eight jars of beets, and a few other things, but not much to speak of. Especially for the fall of the year with the summer garden nearly done. No wonder it had been important to her to save the pears from the squirrels. But maybe there was no real cause for concern. Maybe Marigold had an abundance of store-bought canned goods upstairs. Or plenty of money for the grocer when the time came.
I grabbed two jars of corned beef like she’d told me, though I really doubted we’d need more than one, even with Josiah likely coming in with a hearty appetite. I didn’t think I’d need very much after already eating pie, and I wasn’t sure my start at work today had been enough yet to earn my keep.
Marigold was cutting the squash when I came back up, and Eliza was enjoying the freedom we’d given her to try to cut an apple on her own.
“Thank you so much,” Marigold told me when I set the jars on the table. “You go right ahead with the apples if you don’t mind while I set these other things on to simmer.”
We’d
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