a dull one took far more muscles, and as Far often said, “Work smarter, not harder.”
Mari brought two cups of steaming coffee out for them in the middle of the afternoon. “I thought you could use a break for a time.” The door slammed behind her, and she returned with a water jug and a plate of leftover små brød with jam. The three of them sat on the porch step, even Gilbert breathing a sigh of relief.
“Mange takk.” He lifted his cup in salute. “What’s for dinner?”
“I made stew out of the leftovers from last night. Used the last of the carrots and onions.”
The home garden couldn’t come in too soon.
Ingeborg and Gilbert were in the yard that evening when Far and Hjelmer rode in. Thanks to the long days, a round trip could be made in a day.
“We can get ready!” Far called as he dismounted. Hjelmer took both the horses to the barn and let them go in the small field where there was no water, since the horses were both sweaty. The weather had turned unseasonably warm, for which Ingeborg rejoiced.
“The grass is coming up already. We are more than a couple of weeks ahead of time.” Far headed for the house, glancing at the woodpile. “Good for you.”
Gilbert grinned at her. A compliment like that showed what a good mood Far was in.
She nodded. Perhaps the parents wanted their offspring to head up the mountain as much as the younger ones looked forward to going. Now, that was a different kind of thought.
So much to do, so much to do. Packing crates, keeping the weeds out of the garden, keeping the cattle and sheep inside the fences, replenishing the spent woodpiles, managing the calves and lambs—no matter how she tried to step up the pace, more work loomed. Even the needlework was put on hold, which made Katrina less than happy.
“You won’t be here for my wedding.” She stared sorrowfully at Ingeborg.
“It’s a shame you scheduled it for June. You could wait until next fall.”
Horror rounded Katrina’s eyes even more. “If you were in love like we are, you would not even jest about such a thing.”
“Probably. That’s the big difference between us. You want to be married. I don’t.”
“At the rate you are going, you needn’t be concerned,” Mor said with a pickle mouth.
Swallowing hot words can burn one’s throat, Ingeborg discovered. Maybe they were better said, but then again, probably not. “You said you had some books for me to take up there?” Again, propriety said Ingeborg was too young to read books on birthing and other medical things.
“I’ll find them for you. I asked Alfreda for anything she might have too, so you’ll need to go over there in the next few days and see.”
There it was again, an interest in her daughter’s education. Why did she wait until now?
Before falling asleep that night, Ingeborg’s mind worried at the switches in her mother’s demeanor. One minute she was not speaking, then she was, and obviously thinking along the lines of education in spite of the way she acted. How was one to figure this puzzle out? Finding it hard to fall asleep in the half light of spring, where the nights never totally darkened, was not a new thing, but one would have thought all the hard labor would make it easy. The snoring from other members of the family told her she was again the only one awake. She always slept better up at the seter house too.
Someone had once told her that praying for others always made them fall asleep more quickly, as if the evil one couldn’t abide praying. Ingeborg wasn’t sure of the validity of that observation, but extra prayer never hurt anyone. Then she ordered her mind to go through the Bible verses she had beenmemorizing, one of the things Far insisted upon for his family. While he never spoke of his faith or things related to it, he made them all learn the Word. It would stand them in good stead, he claimed, an interesting comment and one not said often. But he did ask them to recite their verses, especially
Mari brought two cups of steaming coffee out for them in the middle of the afternoon. “I thought you could use a break for a time.” The door slammed behind her, and she returned with a water jug and a plate of leftover små brød with jam. The three of them sat on the porch step, even Gilbert breathing a sigh of relief.
“Mange takk.” He lifted his cup in salute. “What’s for dinner?”
“I made stew out of the leftovers from last night. Used the last of the carrots and onions.”
The home garden couldn’t come in too soon.
Ingeborg and Gilbert were in the yard that evening when Far and Hjelmer rode in. Thanks to the long days, a round trip could be made in a day.
“We can get ready!” Far called as he dismounted. Hjelmer took both the horses to the barn and let them go in the small field where there was no water, since the horses were both sweaty. The weather had turned unseasonably warm, for which Ingeborg rejoiced.
“The grass is coming up already. We are more than a couple of weeks ahead of time.” Far headed for the house, glancing at the woodpile. “Good for you.”
Gilbert grinned at her. A compliment like that showed what a good mood Far was in.
She nodded. Perhaps the parents wanted their offspring to head up the mountain as much as the younger ones looked forward to going. Now, that was a different kind of thought.
So much to do, so much to do. Packing crates, keeping the weeds out of the garden, keeping the cattle and sheep inside the fences, replenishing the spent woodpiles, managing the calves and lambs—no matter how she tried to step up the pace, more work loomed. Even the needlework was put on hold, which made Katrina less than happy.
“You won’t be here for my wedding.” She stared sorrowfully at Ingeborg.
“It’s a shame you scheduled it for June. You could wait until next fall.”
Horror rounded Katrina’s eyes even more. “If you were in love like we are, you would not even jest about such a thing.”
“Probably. That’s the big difference between us. You want to be married. I don’t.”
“At the rate you are going, you needn’t be concerned,” Mor said with a pickle mouth.
Swallowing hot words can burn one’s throat, Ingeborg discovered. Maybe they were better said, but then again, probably not. “You said you had some books for me to take up there?” Again, propriety said Ingeborg was too young to read books on birthing and other medical things.
“I’ll find them for you. I asked Alfreda for anything she might have too, so you’ll need to go over there in the next few days and see.”
There it was again, an interest in her daughter’s education. Why did she wait until now?
Before falling asleep that night, Ingeborg’s mind worried at the switches in her mother’s demeanor. One minute she was not speaking, then she was, and obviously thinking along the lines of education in spite of the way she acted. How was one to figure this puzzle out? Finding it hard to fall asleep in the half light of spring, where the nights never totally darkened, was not a new thing, but one would have thought all the hard labor would make it easy. The snoring from other members of the family told her she was again the only one awake. She always slept better up at the seter house too.
Someone had once told her that praying for others always made them fall asleep more quickly, as if the evil one couldn’t abide praying. Ingeborg wasn’t sure of the validity of that observation, but extra prayer never hurt anyone. Then she ordered her mind to go through the Bible verses she had beenmemorizing, one of the things Far insisted upon for his family. While he never spoke of his faith or things related to it, he made them all learn the Word. It would stand them in good stead, he claimed, an interesting comment and one not said often. But he did ask them to recite their verses, especially
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