half a mile away.”
Harry nodded as the wind picked up again. Mattie noted that he gave up trying to keep his cap secure and instead stuffed it into his back pocket and let the breeze blow through his hair. Kansas was well known for its hearty breezes, and today seemed to be no exception. It was little wonder that the vast prairie farmlands were dotted with windmills. Mattie could remember her beloved Edgar saying that windmills should be assigned the honor of official state symbol.
“I see you have that north bed weeded and replanted,” Harry said as they made their way up to the house.
“The ground is warming up fast,” Mattie admitted. “But you already know that. How’re the fields coming along?”
Harry beamed proudly. “I’ve got it plowed up, thanks to that new tandem disc I bought myself for Christmas last year. I’m ready to put in the corn as soon as I’m convinced the weather’s going to stay warm.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you could start planting in the next week or two. The spring’s been unseasonably warm, and I haven’t heard any talk of it changing. ’Course,” she said, pulling open the screen door, “I wouldn’t want you to risk a crop on my say-so.”
The door creaked as she opened it wide. Mattie thought it gave the house character, although Harry had offered a hundred times to oil it and see if he couldn’t make it a little more quiet. Mattie loved her farmhouse with all its idiosyncrasies and faults. She didn’t mind the kitchen sink dripping with a steady rhythm that mimicked the grandfather clock in the hall. Neither did she mind the way the wind whistled in the chimney. They were little personality features that made the Mitchell farm something personable—something more than just an old house with new additions.
They walked through the sun porch to the kitchen door, and as soon as Mattie opened it, the warm scented air hit them full in theface. Cinnamon, nutmeg, and the aroma of freshly baked cake made a delicious welcoming committee.
“Smells good in here,” Harry said, tossing his cap aside. “You must have just made that coffee cake this morning.”
Mattie washed the dirt from her hands and went to the coffee maker. “I figured you might come around. I bet Sarah Hooper has something to do with my lack of company lately, though.” Harry blushed and Mattie laughed. “So you’ve cast me aside for a younger woman, eh?”
“You know how it is to plan a wedding. I suggested to Sarah we just elope, but she has in mind to invite half the county.”
“Only half? I figured since that girl waited so long to pick a husband, she’d invite all of the county and good portions of those surrounding us.”
Mattie saw the way Harry fidgeted at her words. He reminded her of a little boy forced to recite from memory a Bible verse he didn’t know. Harry always looked rather uncomfortable when discussing his fall wedding. It wasn’t that he didn’t seem to care greatly for Sarah, but the entire matter just seemed to take a toll on his peace of mind. Pouring a cup of coffee into a thick white porcelain mug, Mattie almost felt sorry for the grown man. He seemed so completely out of touch with the things that women deemed important in their lives. He had no sisters and his mother had been a farmer’s wife, and while that didn’t mean that Thelma Jensen didn’t think and reason as a woman, she was by her own choice a confirmed tomboy. It was Thelma who had ridden in rodeos as a teenager and who thought nothing of donning a pair of overalls to join her husband in roofing the barn.
Of course, there were Mattie’s girls. But Harry had been a good five years older than the twins and as much as ten years older than Erica, the baby of the family. Once the girls were old enough to be interesting, Harry was off to college or so closely wrapped up in the farm that he seldom had time for anything else. Mattie supposed his experience didn’t allow for much of an education in
Harry nodded as the wind picked up again. Mattie noted that he gave up trying to keep his cap secure and instead stuffed it into his back pocket and let the breeze blow through his hair. Kansas was well known for its hearty breezes, and today seemed to be no exception. It was little wonder that the vast prairie farmlands were dotted with windmills. Mattie could remember her beloved Edgar saying that windmills should be assigned the honor of official state symbol.
“I see you have that north bed weeded and replanted,” Harry said as they made their way up to the house.
“The ground is warming up fast,” Mattie admitted. “But you already know that. How’re the fields coming along?”
Harry beamed proudly. “I’ve got it plowed up, thanks to that new tandem disc I bought myself for Christmas last year. I’m ready to put in the corn as soon as I’m convinced the weather’s going to stay warm.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you could start planting in the next week or two. The spring’s been unseasonably warm, and I haven’t heard any talk of it changing. ’Course,” she said, pulling open the screen door, “I wouldn’t want you to risk a crop on my say-so.”
The door creaked as she opened it wide. Mattie thought it gave the house character, although Harry had offered a hundred times to oil it and see if he couldn’t make it a little more quiet. Mattie loved her farmhouse with all its idiosyncrasies and faults. She didn’t mind the kitchen sink dripping with a steady rhythm that mimicked the grandfather clock in the hall. Neither did she mind the way the wind whistled in the chimney. They were little personality features that made the Mitchell farm something personable—something more than just an old house with new additions.
They walked through the sun porch to the kitchen door, and as soon as Mattie opened it, the warm scented air hit them full in theface. Cinnamon, nutmeg, and the aroma of freshly baked cake made a delicious welcoming committee.
“Smells good in here,” Harry said, tossing his cap aside. “You must have just made that coffee cake this morning.”
Mattie washed the dirt from her hands and went to the coffee maker. “I figured you might come around. I bet Sarah Hooper has something to do with my lack of company lately, though.” Harry blushed and Mattie laughed. “So you’ve cast me aside for a younger woman, eh?”
“You know how it is to plan a wedding. I suggested to Sarah we just elope, but she has in mind to invite half the county.”
“Only half? I figured since that girl waited so long to pick a husband, she’d invite all of the county and good portions of those surrounding us.”
Mattie saw the way Harry fidgeted at her words. He reminded her of a little boy forced to recite from memory a Bible verse he didn’t know. Harry always looked rather uncomfortable when discussing his fall wedding. It wasn’t that he didn’t seem to care greatly for Sarah, but the entire matter just seemed to take a toll on his peace of mind. Pouring a cup of coffee into a thick white porcelain mug, Mattie almost felt sorry for the grown man. He seemed so completely out of touch with the things that women deemed important in their lives. He had no sisters and his mother had been a farmer’s wife, and while that didn’t mean that Thelma Jensen didn’t think and reason as a woman, she was by her own choice a confirmed tomboy. It was Thelma who had ridden in rodeos as a teenager and who thought nothing of donning a pair of overalls to join her husband in roofing the barn.
Of course, there were Mattie’s girls. But Harry had been a good five years older than the twins and as much as ten years older than Erica, the baby of the family. Once the girls were old enough to be interesting, Harry was off to college or so closely wrapped up in the farm that he seldom had time for anything else. Mattie supposed his experience didn’t allow for much of an education in
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