Planted with Hope

by Tricia Goyer

  She poured herself a glass of iced tea and sat with the journal. She flipped open the first page and read the woman’s name again. Pauline Spencer. March 10, 1942. A Scripture passage had been written under her name and the date: John 12:24. Hope’s Bible was still in her bedroom, and she told herself she’d look up the passage and read it later.

  Then she started on the first page.

  Tuesday, March 10, 1942

  Mother gave me this journal. It’s a nice gift, but I’m not much of a writer. She told me to write my deepest thoughts, but maybe I’ll use it to record news of the war instead. Last year, on my twenty-seventh birthday, I would never have imagined that we’d be pulled into the war we’d been hearing about in the papers. We had no choice really, after Pearl Harbor. So many lives lost. Such great cost to our naval fleet. I can’t understand the horror of knowing one’s son, brother, or husband died in such an attack. My heart aches for every one of those who are still trying to imagine their days without someone they love. I do understand that.

  Monday, March 30, 1942

  I heard from the grocery store clerk that an American ship encountered a German U-boat off the coast of Virginia. Somedays the war seems far away. Not today.

  I found this in a book I was reading. It means a lot on days like today.

  In good times and bad, a vegetable garden is a valuable adjunct to the home, financially, physically and spiritually… It makes family income more elastic, it brings health in fresh goods and outdoor exercise, and what is more important, to my way of thinking, it teaches the whole family many wholesome lessons. And now that we have a war to win, a vegetable garden can contribute directly to national safety.

  Wednesday, April 1, 1942

  Richard would have been 29 years old today. I thought I’d use this new journal to record events from the war, since all this will be part of history someday. But that is too depressing. So for now I’ll think about my dear husband and wonder where he’d be now if he hadn’t lost his life in that factory accident. Europe? The South Pacific? He wouldn’t have sat at home and watched others heading out to fight.

  Closer to home, I heard that it’s the 97th Bombardment Group who are at the new Sarasota Army Air Field. Janet loves to watch the large B-17s flying over, but she’s too young to understand what they mean.

  Friday, April 17, 1942

  I never thought much about gardens until I decided to grow one. My idea started with a book I found on my mother’s kitchen cabinet. I must have read the title of her cookbook a hundred times, Economical War-time Cook Book, but it means something different now that we have a war of our own.

  I’ve started planning the garden, but Mother doesn’t know yet. I had a little money set aside and I’ve already purchased the seeds. I’m also writing down important information on conservation. This is a much better use of my new journal. And growing a Victory Garden is better than simply moping around this large house all day. Since Richard’s death my only purpose has been caring for Janet, but what type of example am I to my daughter by hiding away? I’ve had enough quiet. I’ve had enough rest. I need to live life again.

  There are many people doing much more for the war effort, but this is the best thing I can think of to show Janet that we are doing our part. Tomorrow I will plant our garden, and today I will plan and pray. Without food, no man can fight. Without food, a war cannot be won. I have no husband to serve, and with a daughter my fight will look different, but I’m determined to try.

  Hope looked through the rest of the journal’s pages, hoping for a picture of Pauline or Janet. There was none. Elizabeth had said that Janet was her friend, and she wondered how old the woman would be now. She pictured Janet and tried to imagine her staring up at large planes overhead not truly understanding what they meant. She’d have to ask Elizabeth the next time they were together.

  Near the back of the journal, Hope found a piece of paper. It looked as if it had been torn out of a book—maybe the cookbook that Pauline was talking about.

  Seven Commands for War-Time Conservation*

  Prepared at Cornell University, Ithaca, N.Y.

  1. Set aside enough money to buy 1 quart of milk a day for each child and ⅓ quart of milk a day for each grown person.

  The grown person may use some cheese in place of all milk; 1 8/10 ounces of cheese will replace 1/3 pint a day for each grown person.

  The grown person may use skim milk. Half of the daily quart for the child may use skim milk, if necessary; but it is not best to feed the child skim milk.

  Children suffer more from lack of milk than do grown persons.

  2. Buy 2 to 3 ounces of some fat for each grown person.

  Children will not need as much as this if they are getting a quart of whole milk a day.

  The best fat is butter, particularly for little children.

  3. If money is scarce, buy only enough sugar to make the meals palatable.

  One and one-half ounces, or about 3 level Tbspful of sugar, honey, molasses, or syrup a day for each person will do this.

  Sugar is not a necessary food; too much money spent for sugar is likely to deprive the family of more needed foods.

  4. Buy for each day some potatoes and one other vegetable such as cabbage, onions, carrots, turnips, beets, or other available fresh vegetables.

  The children can eat daily 2 to 3 medium-sized potatoes and 1/2 to 1/2 pound of one of the other vegetables.

  The grown person can eat daily 6 to 8 medium-sized potatoes and 1/2 pound or more of the other vegetables.

  5. Buy only as much wheat and wheat products as the Food Administration rulings allow.

  The rest of your need for cereal food may be satisfied by such other cereals as rolled oats, pinhead oatmeal, cornmeal, hominy, barley, rice, and buckwheat.

  If possible, buy flours, meals, and breakfast foods made from the entire grain, such as water-ground cornmeal, rolled oats or oatmeal, cracked wheat, graham and whole-wheat flour. They have greater food value than have the refined products.

  Less bread and other cereal foods are needed, if some dried beans or peas are eaten and if potatoes are used freely.

  One serving of dried beans or peas or one medium-sized potato may replace one serving of cereal or one slice of bread.

  6. If some money still remains, buy a little fruit for each member of your family.

  Apples, fresh or dried, and dried prunes and raisins are among the cheapest fruits.

  7. If there is more than enough money for this necessary food for all members of the family, spend it to increase the variety and flavor of the meals.

  The plain but safe diet resulting from following rules 1 to 6 may be made more palatable by spending more money.

  Meat may be added for grown-up members of the family.

  Eggs may be added for all members of the family.

  The amount of money to be spent for milk, cream, butter, cheese, fruits, vegetables, fats, and sweets may be increased.

  This more expensive diet may be more pleasing but not more wholesome than the first one suggested.

  Hope read over the rules twice, trying to imagine living during wartime. She chuckled imagining eating six potatoes a day. She also had never considered the numerous sacrifices people made during time of war. The Amish didn’t believe in war. They were pacifists, and she’d never known a family member to fight in the Armed Services. Once she’d heard that her own grandfather had served in the Conservation Corps during World War II instead of fighting, but she’d never really considered how everyone in the family had been affected during that time. How ordinary people had to sacrifice.

  Growing up on an Amish farm she’d always had food. Her dat had grown wheat and corn on his farm in Ohio. They always had fresh eggs, and Mem had made her own cheese. There had been plenty of milk, and the cellar had been full of jars of home-canned food. Most meals ended with dessert, which seemed like an extravagance after reading about wartime sacrifice.

  Even after they’d moved to Pinecraft th
ey’d had plenty of food. They had no garden, but Yoder’s Produce Stand had a wide variety of fruits and vegetables. Was it really just seventy years ago when food had to be weighed and measured to make sure that everyone had a little? When meat was only for adults because there wasn’t enough to go around?

  She flipped through more pages of the journal, noticing descriptions of garden plots, recipes, and lots of personal notes. Hope still didn’t understand why Elizabeth had insisted she borrow it, but it was interesting. She read a little bit farther.

  Monday, April 20, 1942

  Mother was the ultimate penny pincher. “Waste not, want not” was one of her favorite sayings. She liked to repurpose as much as possible, even though Father had a good salary at the bank. She was horrified when she saw that I had dug up her luscious grass today, but she felt slightly better when I told her it was a matter of stewardship. “Why grow grass when we could grow food for ourselves and our community?” I told her.

  Wednesday, April 22, 1942

  Folks around Sarasota started to wander by around the time I planted the first few rows of seeds. And then it happened: I got my first volunteer. It’s an elderly man who moved in with his daughter three houses down. And after that, a mother of three asked if she might have a small area to plant in too. I didn’t see a problem with it. Thankfully Mother didn’t either. We just dug up more grass and created a plot. Martha told us we’d given her and her children a wonderful gift, but the way I feel tonight—so content and at peace—I feel as if I’ve been given a great gift too.

  There is a new movie out called The Jungle Book. I’m going to take Janet to see it tonight. She’s been working so hard.

  Saturday, April 25, 1942

  Today was a good day. Mother came out to help too. She met Ethel and Hazel. They live less than a mile away. The three stood out front and chatted for two hours at least. They’re getting together tomorrow to roll bandages for the Red Cross. And just think they’ve lived just over a half mile from each other their whole lives and never knew each other.

  Blackouts have been taken more seriously now. U.S. planes raided Tokyo and most people are sure they’re going to respond. I wonder if Janet remembers a time before blackout curtains and rationing.

  Sunday, April 26, 1942

  I see a lot of posters around town, talking about teamwork and volunteering. When I started the garden it was something that I wanted to do for me… and for Janet. Janet is my biggest helper. She is diligent about pulling every weed. What I didn’t realize was that this garden was for more than just me and my daughter. It was for Mother, for our neighbors, and for our community. There have been some who have been gardening for a while, and now they’re helping those who are just getting started. It’s been a wonderful thing to see.

  Hope folded a napkin and used it as a bookmark. Her stomach growled, and she realized it was already lunchtime. She still had no idea where her parents were, and for once she wished the house weren’t so quiet. She wished she had someone to talk to about what she was reading in the journal.

  Hope walked to their refrigerator. There were leftovers—crisp chicken, mashed potatoes, and carrot pineapple fluff salad, all from last night. It was Thursday, which meant it was Hope’s day to cook. Usually she put on a pot of soup. When she used to work, and had a small salary, she used to bring home food from Yoder’s restaurant, but once she’d begun saving up money to move she’d stopped doing that.

  She pulled out the mashed potatoes, wondering if she should use them to make potato soup once again, and then she remembered a recipe from Pauline’s journal. Somewhere in the middle there’d been a potato casserole recipe that looked easy enough. Hope pulled out all the ingredients and set to work. She seasoned and rewhipped the potatoes. Then she layered them into the bottom of the casserole dish. She fried up the bacon and made “nests” in the potatoes. She prepared everything in fifteen minutes, except adding the eggs. She’d do that tonight before she put the casserole in the oven.

  Stepping back and pleased that she’d used one of Pauline’s recipes, she covered the casserole dish with foil and set it in the bottom of the refrigerator. She made herself a sandwich, thinking about going back to the garden this afternoon. She didn’t want to start planting—she’d save that for the morning. But she couldn’t help but wonder if Jonas Sutter would stop by. A smile touched her lips when she remembered how he’d looked at her this morning. Hope’s smile broadened even more considering that Emma might be there.

  Hope quickly made a green salad for dinner and put that in the fridge too. With dinner prepared she enjoyed a piece of cold chicken and grapes. Once all the dishes were washed and the kitchen clean, she slipped on her flip-flops. She was about to head out the door to the garden when she decided it would be best to leave a note.

  Dinner is in the fridge. I’ll put it in the oven when I get home. She placed the note on the counter and had a strange sense of satisfaction. She’d been discontent for so long that she didn’t feel like cooking or spending the time with others, but now… something had changed. It was strange in a way, but she understood a little of what Pauline wrote about. It seemed odd that a few conversations in the garden and in the pie shop and making dinner for her family could make her feel alive again.

  * Janet McKenzie Hill, Economical War-time Cook Book (New York: George Sully and Co., 1918), 3-4.

  Potato Casserole with Eggs in Bacon Nests, 1918

  4 cups mashed potatoes

  Salt and pepper

  Milk or cream, butter

  2 eggs, well beaten

  12 bacon strips

  6 whole eggs

  Season potatoes very well with salt, pepper, milk or cream, and butter. Add 2 beaten eggs and beat until light and fluffy. Pile lightly into greased casserole and, with the back of a spoon, make in the surface 6 hollows, each large enough to hold 1 egg. Meanwhile partially cook bacon and line each hollow with 2 strips. Place an egg in each. Bake in moderate oven (350°) until eggs are set and bacon is browned. Season eggs. Grated cheese may be sprinkled over top just before eggs are done. Serves 6.*

  * Ruth Berolzheimer, 250 Ways of Serving Potatoes (Consolidated Book Publishers, Inc., 1941), 30.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The foundation of understanding is the willingness to listen.

  AMISH PROVERB

  Hope tried not to hold her breath as she walked to her garden. Breathe normally. She told herself it really didn’t matter if Jonas and Emma were there or not. But even as she walked, she had a hard time convincing herself. She would be disappointed if they weren’t there waiting for her.

  Afternoon clouds had rolled in, making it cooler than it had been earlier this morning. Before leaving the house she had slipped on a sweater. She’d also grabbed her bucket with seeds and gardening tools.

  The bucket tugged on her arm and swung by her side as she walked. She waved at friends and neighbors as she walked past, but her mind was mostly on Emma. From the way Pauline talked about young Janet in the journal she guessed her to be Emma’s age. Something Pauline wrote stuck in Hope’s mind. Parents were models for their children. Children learned by what they witnessed. Emma no doubt liked to tag along with Jonas on his farm back home, but maybe Hope could be a positive influence on her while she was in Pinecraft. Hope had already decided that if Emma stopped by with Jonas, she would offer to let the young girl plant some of the seeds.

  It only took ten minutes to walk from her house to the garden. Hope rounded the corner and paused in her steps. Her lips opened with excitement.

  Jonas and Emma were there.

  He was on his knees examining a watering pipe connected to one of the raised concrete beds. Emma was near him, walking along the edge of a concrete block like a gymnast on a balance beam. Her arms spread out to her sides and the slightest breeze ruffled her dark blue dress.

  Hope stepped closer to the building, partially hiding in the shadows, and studied them. As she watched, Emma walked to the end of the raised bed, and then sh
e lifted her hands high. “Dat, watch!”

  He paused his work, pushed back his hat, and fixed his eyes on her. Jonas’s devotion to his little girl was clear.

  Emma flapped her arms, as if they were bird wings, and jumped. Despite the effort, her body sank like a rock and she tumbled onto the grass.

  “Whoa! I believe you jumped higher that time!”

  Unplanned laughter spilled from Hope’s lips, and both sets of eyes turned to her.

  “Hope!” Emma rose from the ground and raced Hope’s direction.

  Jonas didn’t call Hope’s name. He didn’t run to her, but his smile—and the happy look in his eyes—offered the same eager welcome.

  Her stomach did a little flip as she met Jonas’s gaze, and then she turned her attention to the little girl.

  “Making yourselves busy, I see,” Hope said as Emma approached. Emma immediately grabbed Hope’s hand and tugged. With more strength than Hope expected, Emma dragged her to Jonas. They paused just a few feet away from him.

  Jonas pointed to the pipe, but he didn’t look up. “Had a little leak, but it’s fixed now.”

  “I appreciate that. I’d expected to be hauling buckets of water from the spigot or setting up sprinklers. The watering system was a nice surprise.”

  Jonas eyed Hope’s bucket. “And I appreciate your waiting to start your planting.” He stood, his tall frame towering over her, and placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder. Emma hovered by Hope’s side with a new unexplained bashfulness.

  Hope nodded. She hadn’t really waited to plant the first seeds for the reasons he thought—to save the task for when Emma was present—but she didn’t need to explain that. She was simply happy now that she had waited.

  Hope lifted the bucket. “Ready to get started?”