material!” Melody shuddered. “I’m supposed to use that to wipe . . . to wipe with? Pages from a catalog?”
“Better than leaves,” Zara pointed out.
“Leaves,” Melody moaned. “Catalog pages. Oh, yuck. Oh, gross.”
“Let me just ask you,” Zara began, opening the stove door cautiously to create a draft, then wider to add more of the deadfall wood. “It’s going to take forever to heat this water,” she muttered. Then looked at Melody again. “Let me ask you,” she repeated, “what exactly did you think it was going to be like out here? Had you ever seen one of these shows?”
“They don’t show them going to the bathroom,” Melody complained. “Not being able to wear any makeup is bad enough. Anyway, I didn’t think it was going to be this . . . this . . .”
“Authentic?” Mira asked with a smile. “Yeah. That’s kind of the worst, isn’t it? Look at it this way , they gave us tampons . Now, you want to talk about gross . . . What would they have used, back in those days?”
“Rags,” Maria-Elena said with a shudder, turning from her task. “My mom told me, when I . . .” She blushed. “When I needed them.”
“That’s one I don’t have to worry about, anyway,” Zara said with satisfaction. “Age has its privileges.”
“Whew.” Mira joined Zara on the front porch, plopping herself down with a weary thump . They’d swept the twin sleeping lofts and the floor of the cabin thoroughly, then had sloshed bucketful after bucketful of water, pulled laboriously out of the well, over all the floors before sweeping the water and the dirt it washed up out the door in their turn. Had scrubbed the kitchen table, work table , washstand, and benches, the rough shelves, until the wood shone white, to the accompaniment of a rhythmic pounding behind them. Stanley and Kevin, nailing the shakes they’d produced to the lean-to that was to become the chicken coop and storage shed.
“I guess I’ll go ask the guys to start bringing stuff in,” Mira said with a sigh, beginning to get up. “It’s probably close to two already,” she decided, looking at the sun. “Still so much to do.” Maria-Elena and Melody hadn’t even made it out of the cabin. Mira had left them sprawled on the bench, backs against the wall, eyes closed.
“No,” Zara decided. “Let’s go look at the garden first. Give ourselves a little break. Go get those girls. I don’t want them to fall asleep in there.”
Fences and Fatigue
Gabe put down his axe at the approach of the women. He made a mental note to unpack the mirror last. Melody was going to be completely useless as soon as she saw how she looked. They were all dirty and disheveled, once-white aprons now blackened, faces and postures showing the fatigue of the seemingly endless day.
“How’re you all doing?” he asked, as Martin set down his own axe and came over to join them.
“Well, the cabin’s clean,” Zara said wearily. “We thought we’d go check out the garden before we start setting things up in the house. See what we’re going to be eating tonight, besides beans and cornbread. Good thing Alma had us soak some beans last night, or we wouldn’t even be having that. Want to come?”
“Sure.” He drove the axe into the chopping block, put the leather cover onto the hatchet, and stripped off his work gloves. “Come on, Martin. Time for a break. We’ve got enough wood here for some days, anyway,” he mused. “Cut some grass earlier too, spread it out to dry so you can stuff those mattresses in another few days. After this, we should get that springbox out of the wagon, find a good spot in the creek for it before we milk tonight. Too hot out here to do without refrigeration.”
Martin nodded glumly. His enthusiasm for “period” living seemed to have taken a bit of a beating today, Gabe saw with amusement. “You’ll want to put the cover on the hatchet,” he reminded the older man. Martin shot him a look, but
“Better than leaves,” Zara pointed out.
“Leaves,” Melody moaned. “Catalog pages. Oh, yuck. Oh, gross.”
“Let me just ask you,” Zara began, opening the stove door cautiously to create a draft, then wider to add more of the deadfall wood. “It’s going to take forever to heat this water,” she muttered. Then looked at Melody again. “Let me ask you,” she repeated, “what exactly did you think it was going to be like out here? Had you ever seen one of these shows?”
“They don’t show them going to the bathroom,” Melody complained. “Not being able to wear any makeup is bad enough. Anyway, I didn’t think it was going to be this . . . this . . .”
“Authentic?” Mira asked with a smile. “Yeah. That’s kind of the worst, isn’t it? Look at it this way , they gave us tampons . Now, you want to talk about gross . . . What would they have used, back in those days?”
“Rags,” Maria-Elena said with a shudder, turning from her task. “My mom told me, when I . . .” She blushed. “When I needed them.”
“That’s one I don’t have to worry about, anyway,” Zara said with satisfaction. “Age has its privileges.”
“Whew.” Mira joined Zara on the front porch, plopping herself down with a weary thump . They’d swept the twin sleeping lofts and the floor of the cabin thoroughly, then had sloshed bucketful after bucketful of water, pulled laboriously out of the well, over all the floors before sweeping the water and the dirt it washed up out the door in their turn. Had scrubbed the kitchen table, work table , washstand, and benches, the rough shelves, until the wood shone white, to the accompaniment of a rhythmic pounding behind them. Stanley and Kevin, nailing the shakes they’d produced to the lean-to that was to become the chicken coop and storage shed.
“I guess I’ll go ask the guys to start bringing stuff in,” Mira said with a sigh, beginning to get up. “It’s probably close to two already,” she decided, looking at the sun. “Still so much to do.” Maria-Elena and Melody hadn’t even made it out of the cabin. Mira had left them sprawled on the bench, backs against the wall, eyes closed.
“No,” Zara decided. “Let’s go look at the garden first. Give ourselves a little break. Go get those girls. I don’t want them to fall asleep in there.”
Fences and Fatigue
Gabe put down his axe at the approach of the women. He made a mental note to unpack the mirror last. Melody was going to be completely useless as soon as she saw how she looked. They were all dirty and disheveled, once-white aprons now blackened, faces and postures showing the fatigue of the seemingly endless day.
“How’re you all doing?” he asked, as Martin set down his own axe and came over to join them.
“Well, the cabin’s clean,” Zara said wearily. “We thought we’d go check out the garden before we start setting things up in the house. See what we’re going to be eating tonight, besides beans and cornbread. Good thing Alma had us soak some beans last night, or we wouldn’t even be having that. Want to come?”
“Sure.” He drove the axe into the chopping block, put the leather cover onto the hatchet, and stripped off his work gloves. “Come on, Martin. Time for a break. We’ve got enough wood here for some days, anyway,” he mused. “Cut some grass earlier too, spread it out to dry so you can stuff those mattresses in another few days. After this, we should get that springbox out of the wagon, find a good spot in the creek for it before we milk tonight. Too hot out here to do without refrigeration.”
Martin nodded glumly. His enthusiasm for “period” living seemed to have taken a bit of a beating today, Gabe saw with amusement. “You’ll want to put the cover on the hatchet,” he reminded the older man. Martin shot him a look, but
Similar Books
