Blossoms on the Roof

by Rebecca Martin

  Then Polly noticed something strange. All the way around the edge of the field stretched a plowed strip of land that was not harrowed. Father did not plant any seeds in that strip. “Why don’t you plant here, Father?” Polly asked.

  Father stopped planting and looked at Polly. “That plowed strip is our firebreak.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, sometimes when the prairie is dry, big fires can start up, and miles and miles of grass get burned up. We wouldn’t want such a fire to burn our house, would we?”

  “Oh, no,” said Polly with a shudder.

  “So that’s why we leave a bare, plowed strip. Because a fire cannot easily jump across that strip, it would likely stop a fire from getting too close to us.” Father reached into his bag for another handful of seeds. On he moved across the field.

  Polly stood stock-still. Miles and miles of fire! How terrible that would be to see the whole prairie on fire.

  She ran after Father and asked, “If everything was wet, we wouldn’t get a prairie fire, would we?”

  “No. Rain is just what we need—for two reasons. Rain would discourage prairie fires, and it would help the flax seeds to grow.”

  “Then we should pray for rain.”

  “If we do, we must also remember to say, ‘Thy will be done.’ God knows best.”

  Polly nodded and started back to the house. Suddenly the prairie seemed big and dangerous. She could hardly wait to get back to Mother.

  Every night after that, Polly prayed for rain. And one day the blue sky began to fill up with clouds. “I think it’s going to rain!” Polly exclaimed.

  “That’s good,” said Mother, peering out the tiny window at the clouds.

  Polly ran outside. Rain was beginning to fall. How good the warm, gentle drops felt on her face!

  Mother appeared at the door and said, “Better come inside, Polly. You shouldn’t get your woolen dress wet.”

  Polly wanted to stay outside. She pointed to the slough where Father and Ben were cutting grass for hay. “Father isn’t coming inside,” she said, pouting.

  “You must come in,” said Mother sternly.

  Polly obeyed. She stood near the window to watch the rain. Soon it stopped, the sun came out, and the clouds scuttled away over the horizon.

  “All the clouds are gone,” Polly said, mournfully. “We needed more rain than that.”

  Mother said as a reminder, “We mustn’t complain. God knows best.”

  There was one good thing about the shower being so little—the hay making didn’t have to stop. The grass Father had cut last week was ready to bring in, so Father and Ben loaded bundles of hay onto the wagon, and the oxen pulled the wagon to a spot near the house. While building the haystack, Polly had fun climbing up and sliding down the sweet-smelling hay. “Come here, Jakie,” she called. “You can do this too.”

  Polly helped Jakie climb up the pile, but instead of sliding down, Jakie took a somersault and landed on his face! Polly slid down pell-mell to help the howling boy. Seeing the blood on his face, Polly began wailing too. “Oh, Jakie, Jakie,” she cried while staggering with him to the house.

  Mother gathered Jakie into her arms and gently washed his face. “There, there. You have a few scratches, but they will be gone soon.”

  Jakie quieted down. Polly sniffled and said, “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t take very good care of him.”

  Mother patted her arm. “Next time it will go better.”

  Polly’s tears stopped as quickly as that morning’s little rain shower.

  Next morning the flax was up, and the fields looked as if someone had taken a brush and washed the black earth with soft green.

  “It’s like a miracle,” Mother whispered to Polly. They stood and watched the rays of the morning sun touching the new, little green plants.

  “The rain helped, didn’t it?” asked Polly.

  “Oh, yes! To think that so many tiny seeds have sprouted. We must remember to thank God.”

  15

  Fire!

  Polly’s nose twitched. She breathed deeply. She turned this way and that. The smell was everywhere. Smoke! Yet no smoke curled from the chimney. The smell was in the wind.

  Trembling, Polly ran to Mother in the garden. “Do you smell it too, Mother. Do you?”

  Mother got up from her knees. She sniffed once or twice as Polly watched her face.

  Mother looked toward the west and saw that the horizon was not clear and blue. It was dark and smudged. “Those are not rain clouds,” Mother said, and Polly could hear a little tremble in her voice.

  “Where is Father?”

  “There.” Mother pointed toward the haystack.

  The oxen lumbered up with a load of hay, and Ben began unloading it. Father and Ben did not go back to the slough for another load. Instead, Father tied up the oxen and hurried over to the garden with Ben right at his heels.

  Polly had not often seen Father’s face looking like that, and his voice sounded strange when he said, “There must be a fire coming this way. The wind is from the west. How many buckets do we have, Mother?”

  “Two.” Her answer came quick and tense. “And the washtub.”

  “We want to draw all the water we can,” Father said, just as tense as a spring ready to uncoil. “When the fire goes by, we’ll need to watch the haystack and put out any sparks that catch fire. We can beat them out with feed sacks.” Turning to Ben, he said, “Right now we’ll wet the house roof. Where are the buckets?”

  Working fast, as if their lives depended on it, Ben and Father drew buckets of water. Splash! They emptied them on the grassy roof. Water dripped down from the ceiling. Polly whimpered to Mother, “I thought this roof was supposed to keep the rain out.”

  “This is more than just a shower,” Mother reminded her. “Father and Ben are pouring whole pails full of water on our roof.”

  “I hope they stop soon,” said Polly, watching the drips land on her bed.

  “Polly,” said Mother, “we are glad if our house can be saved. If the grass catches fire, the poles might burn too, and then we wouldn’t have a roof anymore.”

  Polly felt ashamed. To think she was worried about a little water when the whole prairie was on fire!

  Although Jakie could not understand what was going on and did not grasp what Mother told him about the fire coming, he was afraid so Mother just sat and held him and Lisbet.

  Polly didn’t really want to go outside—and yet she did. After a minute outside, she was back inside clinging to Mother. “I saw it. I saw the fire,” she whispered.

  Mother opened her arms wider and held her tight along with Jakie and Lisbet. “Can you be brave, Polly? Can you stay in here with the little ones when the fire comes? I have to help put out sparks.”

  Slowly Polly nodded. She wanted to do her part.

  Right there with her arms around the three of them, Mother asked God to keep them safe. Afterward Polly went to the window. She couldn’t help it. She had to see the fire.

  “Mother,” she shrieked, “a deer ran right past our window! And there’s two more coming across the field, and rabbits, and—”

  Mother came to her side. “Those are antelope, Polly. And maybe that animal behind them is a wolf.”

  “Is the wolf chasing the antelope?” Polly asked in utter bewilderment.

  “Those animals are not after each other at all. They only want to escape from the fire.”

  It was true. Now a coyote scuttled by, and it paid no attention to the other animals, not even the rabbits. The animals did not notice Father and Ben either. They just raced past, tongues hanging out and eyes wild with fear.

  Birds, too, fluttered ahead of the smoke cloud. Suddenly a large winged shape plummeted from the sky. The bird had gray wings and a long black neck. It waddled along frantically until it came to the haystack and lay down.

  “Mother, there’s some kind of duck on our haystack,” Polly cried.

  Mother was putting on her bonnet to go outside. �
��I will watch out for that duck,” she promised. “Now, Jakie and Lisbet, you be good while I’m out there. You can watch me fighting sparks with this bag.” She smiled as she held up an old feed sack.

  Polly wanted to cling to Mother, but instead she smiled bravely and helped Jakie and Lisbet climb onto a chair near the window.

  The fire had almost reached the firebreak, and Polly wondered, Will the fire stop or will it jump across and into the field with the new, little flax plants?

  The flames paused as if they were puzzled. Then they turned and ran both ways along the firebreak. Soon fire was burning all around the Yoder homestead. Even in the sod house, Polly could feel the terrible heat.

  Out in the billowing smoke, three shapes dashed around with their sacks, beating down the sparks. Will they be able to save the garden…and the haystack? Polly wondered and worried.

  Then the fire was racing away to the east. “I hope the other homesteads have firebreaks too,” Polly said to Jakie in a trembling voice.

  “I want Mother,” Jakie whimpered. Of course Lisbet began crying too. No matter how hard she tried, Polly couldn’t cheer them up anymore.

  At last Mother came inside. Jakie stopped crying in mid gasp. Mother’s face was black, and so were her hands and her dress! Lisbet started running to Mother and then stopped. She didn’t know what to make of this mother covered in soot.

  “I’m going to wash up,” Mother said kindly. “Polly, do you know what? That bird that landed on the haystack is a Canada goose. One of his wings is burnt. He can’t fly anymore.”

  “Oh, the poor goose,” Polly said.

  “Maybe his feathers will grow back again. Polly, can you get more water? Father and Ben will want to wash too.”

  Polly stepped outside with the water bucket. The world was a changed place. Ash and cinders lay everywhere. Instead of green grass, blackness lay beyond the flax fields, and the eastern sky still flickered with flames.

  To the west the sky was now as clear and blue as ever. Not a trace of smoke remained.

  16

  Goodbye, King

  The goose stayed. He seemed to consider the Yoders’ haystack his new home. Polly planned to make him a pet so she went out to visit him every day. She named him King because he had a kingly way about him as he stretched his long neck and turned his head from side to side while gazing at her.

  At first King was not friendly. As Polly sat on the haystack holding out choice bits of hay and coaxing the bird in a low voice, he always waddled sternly away, his injured wing dragging on the ground. Gradually, King seemed less wary. He began taking a few steps toward Polly before strutting away. “I think King is learning to like me,” Polly said excitedly to Ben when he drove up with a load of hay. In spite of the prairie fire, they could still make hay. Parts of the slough had been wet enough and did not burn.

  Polly coaxed King with bits of hay.

  “Huh? Who wants a wild goose for a friend?”

  “I do,” Polly answered promptly.

  “Flip is a better pet any day,” Ben declared, stooping to pat the dog’s head. Flip bared his teeth and growled at King, which made King hurry away to the other side of the haystack.

  “Bad dog,” Polly said severely to Flip. “You mustn’t scare King.”

  Flip wagged his tail as if laughing at her. He was glad the goose had disappeared.

  “Why don’t you help unload hay instead of playing with a goose, Polly?” asked Ben.

  “Oh, sure! I didn’t know you wanted me to help.”

  “Well, Father’s busy cutting more grass so I could use help.”

  “Are you making two haystacks?”

  “Yes. Father says we might buy a cow after we’ve sold the flaxseed. We must make sure there’s enough hay for a cow and two horses this winter.”

  Polly clapped her hands. “A cow! That would be nice. And I hope I can have new shoes. And we need to buy some sugar. I’m tired of doing without sugar.”

  “We also need a new axe, and my shoes are too small for me too.”

  As they worked, their pile of wishes grew almost as fast as the haystack.

  But all this warm, dry weather—so pleasant for haymaking—was not good for the flax. As day after day passed without rain, huge cracks began to open up in the parched soil. Many flax plants shriveled up.

  How hard Mother worked to save the garden! Polly helped too by carrying buckets and buckets of water from the well, but the thirsty soil swallowed up the water without a trace. The cabbages and potatoes and beans threatened to die.

  “Why doesn’t God send rain?” Polly asked one evening after Father’s bedtime prayer.

  “God knows best,” Father said. “We must not blame Him for the drought. We knew before we moved out here that the West often has dry years. Apparently this is one of them.”

  Mother added softly, “Let’s not forget that we can still have the blessing of a happy heart, even if our crops don’t grow.”

  “But what will we eat this winter if nothing grows?” Ben asked.

  Father looked at him quietly. After a while he said, “I haven’t given up hope. We may still get a fair crop.”

  Because of all the water they carried to it, the Yoders’ garden did indeed produce some vegetables. But by late August, Father had to admit that the flax crop was a failure. Ben asked unhappily, “Won’t we at least bring in the threshing rig to thresh what’s there?”

  Father shook his head. “Paying the thresher would cost more than what we’d get for the flaxseed.”

  “You mean the flax is no good at all to us?” Ben asked bitterly.

  Father gave him another of those long looks. “We won’t let the flax go to waste. We’ll thresh by hand what little seed there is.”

  Mother said, “Don’t forget that we’re going to separate fibers from the stalks for spinning and weaving.”

  So they set to work. After the seeds had been removed, Mother began the long process of extracting fibers. “First the stalks must be retted,” she explained to Polly. “See? The outside of each stalk is hard and woody. That must come off, so we will soak the stalks in a tub of water.”

  Once they had been well soaked, it was fairly easy to separate the fine fibers from the woody parts. Mother borrowed a flax comb from the neighboring Kanagy family to comb the flax. It looked like the comb Polly used for her hair, only it was much larger.

  Polly wanted to learn how to use the spinning wheel.

  At last Mother had a bundle of fibers ready for spinning. “Maybe it’s not enough for all the clothing we would like to make,” she said, looking at the small pile of flax fibers. “Oh, well. I don’t really need a new dress yet.”

  Polly said nothing. She knew that her own dresses were getting much too small and wondered, What if there is not enough linsey-woolsey for even one dress?

  Mother borrowed a spinning wheel from Peter Mast. Jakie, Lisbet, and Polly watched in fascination as she set the big wheel to whirling.

  “I wish I could learn to do that,” Polly said as the spun fiber wound onto the spindle.

  “You can,” Mother assured her. “I will teach you how.”

  Just then they heard Flip barking excitedly. Polly and Jakie scampered out to see what the matter was.

  Flip was chasing King, which made King flap his wings mightily to try to get away. Suddenly King stopped and turned around. Hisss! The goose sounded loud and angry. Flip skidded to a stop. King looked twice as big as usual with his feathers fluffed up in rage. Flip yelped, turned tail, and ran. After him ran King, hissing and snapping at his heels.

  Polly and Jakie laughed and laughed, but for Flip it was no laughing matter. When King finally stopped chasing him, he slunk back to the house with his tail between his legs.

  “So the dog and the goose don’t get along anymore,” Mother said seriously when Polly and Jakie told her what had happened. “Maybe it’s time for King to go away.”

  “Go away?” Polly repeated in surprise. “But he can’t fly.”
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br />   “Yesterday while I worked in the garden, King was nearby. I had a good look at his injured wing. Those feathers have grown out beautifully.”

  “Oh,” said Polly. The thought of King going away made her feel sad. King was her friend. Why do I always lose my friends? I had to leave my Indiana friends far behind. Then Mattie and Kettie, my train friends, had to disappear into the huge prairie. Of course, I have new friends now, but…I really wish King could stay.

  One morning when Polly went to fetch water, she heard a honking sound overhead. Far up in the sky, she saw lots of birds flying southward in the shape of a V.

  How excited King was! He flapped his wings and honked as loudly as he could. He recognized those voices. They were Canada geese!

  Did the flying geese hear him? Did they turn around and come back? Polly didn’t know, but the next day a whole flock of geese had settled in the slough.

  King was gone. All was silent near the haystack. “He must have gone off to the slough,” Polly told Mother.

  “Let’s hope his wing is healed,” responded Mother.

  Polly thought that over. “I guess King would be sad if he had to stay behind.”

  For two days the flock stayed near the slough. On a bright sunny morning, the geese lifted high into the sky and formed a straggling V and headed south.

  Polly watched them until they were out of sight. Then she took Jakie and walked across the burnt grass to the slough. The only sound was the wind in the grass. No long black neck popped up. No kingly head turned to gaze at her with bright eyes.

  “Goodbye, King,” Polly whispered.

  17

  The Secret

  Bill McLellan managed to raise some wheat in spite of the drought and insisted on sharing the wheat with the Yoders. “You need something to make flour with. Next year you will get a good crop, and then you can pay me back.”

  Carefully the Yoders gathered every poor little vegetable that had survived the summer. They stored the potatoes and turnips in the root cellar. The onions were hung from the ceiling in the house. Father had built a tiny barn just big enough for two horses or two oxen, and there they stored the pumpkins.