Chapters Three and Four of Women of Dust and Wind
Since Albert and Lydia married during the month of May, there was little time to be with her new husband. Lydia relished each short night and while she lay in his warm arms. Later when summer nights turned hot, her husband pulled the bed in front of the two, large windows. After lovemaking, they snuggled in the twilight breezes. When the air turned brisk in the mornings, they cuddled closer and loved each other again.
Up at the first light of dawn each morning, Albert wasted no time dressing. He pulled on his dust-covered boots and tucked his cotton shirt into his denim pants. “Be careful, I don’t want to be a widow yet.” Lydia hugged him tightly and kissed him long and deeply. He paused and moaned.
“No. No time to ravish you again this morning.” He winked down at his bride. “But tonight is another thing. Be ready.” Grinning, he acted confident knowing that she would be waiting.
Each day Albert, his Smothers — Herman, twenty-one and Emil, nineteen — harnessed the team of mules and plowed fallow soil. They walked behind a pair of mules for hours and stumbled over the turned-up clods of earth. From this arduous work, most farmers were rewarded with about two or three acres of plowed field per day. Now that the danger of frost was gone, it was essential that the Krarners get the seeds for their crops into the waiting soil.
“Father always drives the mules for our two-row planter. He thinks he is the only one who can make the mules go at the right pace to drop the seeds.” Albert teased while he gobbled up syrup and pancakes.
Hernan’s large hand grabbed a piece of toast and tossed the bread at his brother, Emil. As tall as his Albert, Herman’s complexion was like his mother’s. But unlike her, he had a sense of humor and wasn’t intimidated by his Anna. Of course, Lydia noticed he was cautious not to cross her.
Six feet, four inches tall with broad shoulders, their father, Walter, towered over his sons. His slim face, browned by years in the sun, was graced by a strong jaw and a warm smile. It was obvious that his sons respected him. At the age of forty-five, his now thinned hair was filled with strands of grey. Lydia learned that although Walter spoke only a few words, his patience countered Anna’s roughness. Staring at the table, he chuckled as he listened. His lips met his mug with care savoring the last of his hot black coffee.
The youngest son, Emil, was as quiet as his father. Still a teen, he didn’t add to the conversation but paid close attention to the family discussions. Resembling his mother with dark hair and brown eyes, Emil was a good-looking young man. Lydia found it interesting that each male member of the clan was different in coloring and character. Yet an obvious fondness and camaraderie existed between the father and his sons. Feelings that were absent between the daughter and the mother.
Dressed in cotton shirts and denim pants, the men ate a large morning meal and were ready to spend a long day in the warm sun. “Roll those sleeves down, boys.” Walter coaxed his sons. “You need to stop the sun from burning your skin. Cotton sleeves trap your sweat and keep your body cool.” Pushing his chair back, Walter stretched his long arms over his head and then grabbed his sweat-stained straw hat. On the way out the door, Walter passed by his wife with a silent nod.
Herman and Emil pushed each other out of the kitchen. Albert winked at his wife, and she returned with a sad face. Lydia accepted that she wouldn’t see him until noon. But since it was always a busy meal with several prepared dishes, she didn’t get a chance to hold his hand or give him a kiss. After the men ate a hearty noon dinner, they returned to the fields.
Later when the tired men returned later in the day, the cows demanded to be milked. Finally after supper, Albert headed up to their bedroom. Lydia helped wash the dishes and get the kitchen ready for the next day’s breakfast, then she raced up the stairs. But usually, her husband laid spread out the bed while his broad chest heaved up and down and breathing deep in sleep.
Lydia let him rest in his clothes while she read a novel. Then she nudged him awake. “Albert let’s get your filthy clothes off. You’ll sleep better.” She had hoped tonight would be different. But no matter, she laid alongside his arm contented.
***
The kitchen remained a daily battle ground. Anna’s desire to reign as the queen was never-ending. The older woman waited each morning with a list of projects that needed to be accomplished by late afternoon.
“Let’s get going, Helen!” Lydia playfully shoved. With hot water, scrubbing brushes, and carbolic soap with vinegar water, the pair moved from room to room and washed the winter grime from the windows. Using old newspapers, the duo wiped the glass dry and made the window glass sparkle.
“Now, bring out the rugs and the feather mattresses!” Anna marched around the house and resembled a war commander. “Take them outside and lay them over the fences so this nice freeze can air them out.” She thrust out a pair of rug heaters. “Make sure you pound hard.” By sundown, Lydia’s hands and arms ached.
On the first Sunday evening after Lydia arrived, Anna barked. “Lydia, we rise early every Monday morning for laundry.”
Lydia believed her Anna enjoyed treating her as a hired maid. “Yes, my mother and I washed on Mondays too.” Lydia turned her face away before she rolled her eyes, but the young woman knew she had lied to her mother-in-law. Lydia’s mother routinely hired a local woman to clean the Janssen house each week. Lydia’s hands never got dirty or chaffed. Her new life would not be as easy as her childhood.
Although the three women worked together, the strenuous process of washing, hanging on the clothesline, and then ironing lasted several days. The goal was to have the household’s clothes clean and pressed for Saturday night shopping and of course, Sunday morning church. A mother’s pride rested on her family wearing clean pressed clothes.
After dawn on Monday morning, Helen and Lydia carried in buckets of water from the windmill pump. During the morning breakfast, the water heated on the cookstove. Once the meal was over and the men left for outside, laundry commenced. Lydia’s eyes widened when Anna — resembling a warrior preparing for battle — laid out the washing tools. Four tin tubs stood at attention. Each one had its purpose and was ready for action.
The water in one tub had been supplied with blue dye and waited to soak the white clothes. Another tub’s ammunition was a large bag of salt for the colored clothes. The salt lessened the fading of colors. A third soldier sat armed with a rippled scrub board and handmade soaps. The battle plan required back-breaking thrusts to scrub out any grime. The final tub of clean water rinsed away any remaining battle scars. Lastly, the washed laundry was hung out to dry.
After the white or lightest colored clothing had soaked, Anna shoved them into the tub of hot soapy water. The sweat of battle dripped from her forehead. Helen and Lydia took turns scrubbing the clothes on tin ribbed washboards. “Lydia, I hate this, don’t you?” Helen squinted her eyes and growled while pushing up and down. When Lydia giggled at Helen’s exaggerated facial gestures, Anna sneered at the young women with an accusatory tone.
“Lydia, I can see you’re not used to the scrub Board. You must be exhausted.” Her eyes were dark and beady.
“No, I’m not tired.” Lydia used a sweet tone. “I washed clothes at home too.” But once again, Lydia lied. She knew she shouldn’t be deceitful, but she yearned to save face. After Anna stuck her nose in the air and stomped away, Helen chuckled and winked at Lydia’s defensive attempt. Lydia realized that Helen had guessed that her sister-in-law was lying. But Lydia vowed to herself. I’ll learn to do these chores, one way or another. Anna is not going to embarrass me about working hard again.
Because clean, hot water was precious, the women next washed the towels and linens in the same water as the white clothes. Finally, Anna Kramer grabbed the bag of wooden clothes pins, and Helen and Lydia followed carrying baskets of wet clothes. Working as a team, the women filled four rope lines of clean laundry. The shirts, towels, bedding, and other clothes flapped in the Nebraska wind and soaked up the fresh smell of sunshine.
Anna stopped at the kitchen door and admired the clothes snapping in the breeze. “There is nothing more pretty than clean clothes swinging in the wind.”
Lydia leaned near Helen and whispered, “I can think of several things.” Helen blurted out a loud laugh which earned her another scowl from her mother.
As soon as the clothes dried, Helen and Lydia dashed out and plucked them from the twine clothesline. Each piece of dry clothing was sprinkled with water and then rolled tight to keep the wrinkles at day for the next day’s ironing. By the time the sun escaped behind the western hills, four wicker baskets were piled high with clean clothes waiting for the next day.
After supper and a tiring, wash day, Helen and Lydia stepped out onto the veranda. A pastel twilight whispered over the Nebraska landscape and glimmered with the vanishing sunlight. Translucent shadows floated under the trees like garden fairies. A pair of turtle doves cooed a delicate that wafted atop the soft air.
A sense of peace and well-being filled Lydia’s heart. She realized that the long day made her fully appreciate the cooling sunset. Albert moseyed out onto the porch and flashed his new wife a grin, “I’ll serenade you two genteel ladies.” He plopped his lanky body onto the porch floor next to Lydia and pushed a harmonica to his full lips.
While her husband hummed a soothing melody, Lydia breathed in the summer air and contemplated the tranquil feel of twilight and misty smell of cooling foliage. Just as Albert finished his tunes, a lone owl announced that the night’s mysteries were about to commence. Shadows of secrecy flitted across the grass and hid under low-hanging boughs. Lydia recalled scripture from the book of Proverbs, the day has eyes, the night has ears.
Understanding Jealousy and Love
Up before sunrise, Albert, his brothers, and his father strolled out to the barn every morning at five o’clock — no matter the season or the weather. The cows crowded near the barn door bawled for the relief of the accumulated milk in their udders. The Kramer farm owned five cows which kept the family furnished with milk, cream, and butter. Then at night, before any supper, the milking process was performed again. Lydia started to saunter out to the barn and watched her husband and his brothers.
Emil threw the alfalfa hay from the loft and piled it in the stanchions. The chomping of hay calmed the milk cows while Albert washed the udders and checked for mastitis. Speaking with soft voices, the brothers balanced on three-legged stools and leaned their heads against the cows’ bellies which kept the bovines still and calm. “There’s nothing worse than having a scared mama kick over a full pail of milk.” Herman whispered to Lydia.
Albert winked at Lydia. “I am hiding from her manure tipped tail.”
Each morning and evening, farm cats lingered at the barn door and announced their presence. Once the milking started, the felines eyed the milkers with vigilance. Through the years, all three brothers and their father had become expert milk sharpshooters. “Watch this.” Albert nodded toward the waiting cats. In a flash, a squirt of milk crossed the milking alley and landed into a cat’s mouth.
“Bullseye. What a good shot!” While the cat licked its milky mouth, Lydia quietly giggled and softly clapped her hands. When the milking was done, Albert stepped near the feline audience and poured warm buttermilk into a tin pan. “Got to appreciate our cats. They’re hard workers.”
The younger brothers and Lydia carried milk-filled buckets to the cellar which sat under the house. There the cream was separated from the milk. Helen stood ready. But Anna waited with hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “It’s about time you got here.” She sneered at Lydia. “Are we finally going get the separating done?”
“I was just watching until the milking was done.” Lydia was surprised at Anna’s anger.
“The men don’t need you hanging around and bothering them.”
“She wasn’t, Mother.” Helen tried to calm everyone. “Lydia likes watching her new husband work.” Helen nudged her sister-in-law and grinned.
“She’s a married woman now. She shouldn’t be in a barn flirting with men.” The words slid out of Anna’s mouth like a waiting snake’s hiss. Lydia’s face and neck flushed red.
Embarrassed and angry, the daughter-in-law defended herself. “I wasn’t flirting. It’s rude of you to say such things.”
Anna moved close and leaned, “What did you say? Did you sass back to me?”
“Well, you were mean, Anna.” Lydia stammered. “I wasn’t . . .”
“Are you telling me what to think?” Spit flew from Anna’s mouth. “You better watch yourself, missy. Your mother may have allowed you to speak that way, but you will not do it here.”
“Don’t you criticize my mother!” Exasperated with Anna’s snipping comments, Lydia stepped closer. “She is a kind and caring person unlike you!” Lydia’s voice trembled but her eyes were dark.
“You are a spoiled little girl, and you know it!” Anna’s shrill voice filled the cellar.
Before Lydia could answer, slow but heavy footsteps sounded on the cellar steps as Albert ambled down. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he stood beside his wife. The husband’s words came from deep in his throat. “What’s going on here, Mother?”
Anna flushed. “Lydia is acting disrespectful.” She didn’t look at her son but focused skimming the cream.
Lydia faced her husband and burst into tears. “I didn’t Albert, I didn’t.” She pushed her face into his chest.
Albert pushed Lydia back at arm’s length. “Go clean up and put supper on the table. I’ll be there in a minute.” He kept his voice low but deliberate. Rushing up the cellar steps, Lydia covered her mouth and muffled her sobs. The eldest brother nodded at Helen. “You go too. We’ll be there soon.”
Anna glared at her son. “You’re not going to scold me! She is obligated to be a good wife and not a little girl hanging around the barn.”
“Stop it, Mother. She is trying. Besides, I like having my wife around.”
“Not if it keeps you from getting your work done.”
“You lay off Lydia. I warn you. Do not treat her like you treat Helen.”
“How dare you! Remember the Fourth Commandment, Honor thy father and Mother.”
“I am not disrespecting you, Mother.” Albert peered into his mother’s eyes. “But remember the verse from Ephesians, Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. I will stand with my wife all the time, Mother. Just remember.” His voice growled the last words before climbing the cellar steps.
Lydia waited for Albert. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, honest. I didn’t try to make your mother annoyed. She is so critical.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and leaned in close. “Lydia, you didn’t. She created the situation. I’m glad you defended yourself.”
“But I didn’t mean to cause a scene. She is so mean, why?”
“I don’t know. Tiy not to listen. It’s hard, I know.”
Supper was a quiet event. The air hung heavy with unease. Walter glanced from his eldest to Lydia then to Anna. But no one dared ask what had happened. When Albert finished his plate, he picked up Lydia’s hand. “We’ll spend the rest of the evening in our room.”
“She needs to help with dishes.” His mother snapped.
“Not tonight, Mother. I think you understand.” Albert glared into her eyes.
Albert’s mother frowned at Walter waited for support. He answered without lifting his eyes. “Let it go, Anna.”
She threw her fork onto the table, stomped to the sink, and slammed pots and pans for the following hour.
***
Throughout the night and the next day, Lydia’s heart ached over the trouble this incident caused. The rift required solving, but she dreaded facing Anna. I’ll let everyone’s emotions settle for the next few days. Anna pouted and snipped at family members and caused heavy tension.
Searching for solace, Lydia preferred the garden. The once pampered daughter now stayed outside as much as she could. As she hoed and raked, she gained a sense of accomplishment. Lydia reached out her hands and caressed the small sterns and leaves as the plants burst from the soil.
The windmill blades sent a whirling hum through the summer air while it pulled clear water from the earth. Lydia leaned over the side of the metal water tank and watched frenzied tadpoles search for food in the mossy mixture of slime that lay at the bottom of the tank. Her white hands dipped two buckets, filled them to the brim, and walked like a staggering drunk as she balanced the weight of the buckets.
During the sizzling summer months of July and August, Lydia breathed in the peace and quiet of her vegetable world. She imagined the sun-kissed the leaves moved as their roots sucked up the water. June strawberries rendered a bumper crop, and Helen and Lydia spent the cool of the early mornings picking the juicy fruit. “My hands look like they are wearing rouge.” Helen’s sense of humor made chores fun.
The sisters-in-law stood over the hot stove while they stirred the berries and cooked them into sweet pulp. Their relationship strengthened as they boiled fruit into syrups and filled jars. Lastly, the young women proudly sealed the jellies and jams with melted wax. “Helen, doesn’t this make you feel proud.” The duo lined the jars of jelly and jam in the cool dark of the root cellar. “Next winter, I’ll smile when I watch Albert spread these on pancakes and toasted breads.”
By July, tomatoes began to mature and were ready for preservation. The kitchen remained hot into nightfall while the Kramer women simmered ripe vegetables into sauces or boiled down for catsup. As the beans and peas flourished, a part of the produce was laid out in the sun and dried for soups and stews during the winter months. An accumulation of sealed jars and crocks lined up in the cellar ready for the frosty winter months. The women’s labor in the garden — weeding and watering — assured that the Kramer family ate like kings. During the summer, fresh vegetables graced their table daily. When winter snows drifted over the county roads, the stocked root cellar kept the family healthy and well-fed.
As summer continued, there came a silent peace treaty between Lydia and Anna. In addition to tending the garden, caring for the chickens, daily separating milk, several loaves of fresh bread were needed each week. Tuesdays and Fridays were bread-making days. When the men left for the fields in the morning, Lydia and Helen rushed to remove the breakfast dishes. Anna carefully placed the flour near the dish of yeast which had softened overnight. Each woman then clutched a large stoneware bowl and wooden spatula. Once the measured flour and yeasty mixture were combined, the sticky substance was poured onto the table’s oil cloth. Their floured hands leaned onto the dough and kneaded back and forth before the end of the dough was lifted and folded it back with care. Each time, the women added just the right amount of additional flour.
Lastly, the dough was formed into loaves and left to raise for another hour. Finally, the loaves were placed into the wood-burning stove’s hot oven until the smell of fresh bread filled the Kramer house. Lydia surveyed the final golden loaves cooling on the windowsill. I never realized that the art of making bread involved more than grain; it encompassed dedication.
***
In July, fields of yellow oats and golden wheat waved in the fields. Not only was the harvested grain precious but so was straw — the left-over stems and leaves separated from wheat, barley, and oats. After drying, the straw was used for bedding in the barn pens or stalls. In the garden, straw warded off weeds and held down escaping moisture. Lastly, straw was stored in the lofts of barns for winter forage and clean bedding.
The grain fields were mowed down and allowed to dry in the fields. Then traveling crews of men and horses arrived pulling a large, metal threshing machine which separated the seeds from the chaff. When a farmer arranged for a threshing crew to arrive, word was sent out and neighborhood farmers arrived with the unspoken knowledge that their help would be reciprocated in the future.
“Anna, I talked to Johann Johnson last week.” Walter leaned back in his chair one noon. “He’s going to bring his threshing machine round next week.”
Anna sighed. “Okay, how many men do you think?” Farm women were expected to furnish a hearty noon meal and afternoon field lunches for the hungry thrashing workers. Two days before, Lydia, Helen, and Anna Baked extra loaves of bread and rolls. Anna baked apple and cherry pies early in the morning. By noon, three pots of cooked potatoes and two roasting pans of meat sat along dishes of vegetables, pickles, jams, and jellies, as well as plates of piled bread and roll ready for the hired crews and neighboring farmers.
Right at noon, horse-drawn hayracks filled with dusty men swayed into the farmyard and stopped at the windmill and water tank. Men jumped off and stomped wheat chaff from their shoes. Hats and bandanas whipped the grain chaff and dust off their shoulders, shirts, and pants.
Stepping up the water tank, they teased and bantered with one another. Used to the routine, each man rolled up his shirt sleeves and washed the remaining dust from his tanned arms, face, and sun-turned neck. Some used the towels Anna hung on the pump, but others simply shook the water off. Once everyone had washed, Walter led them to the house.
Watching from the window, Helen shouted, “Here they come!” The three women jumped into action and dashed around the kitchen. Anna positioned herself at the kitchen door and welcomed the men to her home. “Come on in. Don’t mind your wet shirts and dirty shoes, this house has seen mud and dust before.”
Nodding their heads, they thanked Walter’s wife and stood in a row along the kitchen wall. Lydia chuckled at the divided coloring of the men’s foreheads. Hats protected their foreheads from the sun but left the upper area next to the hairline white as snow. The workers elbowed each other and surveyed the two wooden tables filled with hot food — ham slices steamed on a large platter, three crispy fried chickens cooled in an enamel pan, and stoneware bowls of beans and peas cooked with onions sat placed around the table for easy access. Last, a large pan of boiled potatoes waited next to the white chicken gravy.
“Boy, Mrs. Kramer if this don’t smell good.” Leonard Hansen nodded at Anna. “I can see you worked hard this morning.”
Walter stepped up to the table, “Welcome and enjoy. Please grab a chair and sit.” The room filled with the noise of scraping chairs as the men each found a place. When the commotion quieted, Walter bowed his head. The men, young and old, followed his example. “Father, thank you for our harvest this summer and the kind help of our neighbors. Keep your hand of protection over our work today. In the name of our Lord and Savior, Amen.” The roar of voices and laughter filled the room while the hungry men heaped food onto their plates and then passed the dishes along with their large calloused hands.
“Hey, Kenneth, pass the bread. It smells great.”
“This chicken looks mighty good, Mrs. Kramer.”
Each man filled his plate to the edges and slathered butter on slices of bread. “Mother, great food as usual!” Albert sent his mother a huge grin and winked at Helen and Lydia. “Ladies, can I have more water?”
Wearing long aprons, Helen and Lydia sprang into action and grabbed water pitchers and the coffee pot. Helen grinned, “You serve your husband, Lydia.”
Lydia beamed. My husband. I have been a wife for over six weeks. After Lydia filled Albert’s glass, she continued along the table and made sure each worker was refreshed. When she came to her father and brothers, they raised their faces and sent her an assuring smile.
“Helen, cut more bread!” Anna’s demanding voice made Helen jump two feet into the air. Although Helen, still a teenager, had helped serve workers for ten years, Anna criticized any small error. No matter how hot the weather, the women poured steaming coffee and no one refused. Helen and Lydia retrieved empty platters or bowls. Once refilled, bowls were returned to the table, and the food was passed around again. No one left Anna’s table unsatisfied.
“So, Albert,” Myron Brown spoke up in a burly voice, “this must be your new missus!”
All the men turned their faces and glanced over at his young bride. Lydia froze with wide eyes and her mouth gaped in surprise. Her face blushed red while she stared at the floor. Don’t be silly. You know all these men. They’re your neighbors and friends from church.
Albert grinned. “You bet. Ain’t she just the prettiest bride you ever imagined?”
The men chuckled when they noticed Lydia blushing. Then they nodded and agreed. “She sure is. Better take safe care of her, I know her father.” Myron chuckled and threw a sideways glance across the table at Lydia’s father and brothers as he teased Albert. Lydia peeked up at her father, and his grin reminded her that the joke was all in fun; she shouldn’t be offended.
After the men devoured several helpings of the main food, Mr. Kramer moved his chair back a bit and called to his wife. “I imagined I smelled pie as I entered the house, Anna.”
In a rare moment of gaiety, Anna Kramer chuckled aloud, “You know you did, Mr. Kramer. Girls, bring out the sliced pies.” Earlier, Helen and Lydia had cut apple and cherry pies into slices and placed them on small plates. The noise quieted while the men savored the baked tastes of summer. After one last cup of coffee, Walter pulled out his pocket watch and pushed his chair back. “Well, men, back to the field. I promised that you would be back home in time to do chores.”
The refreshed men filed out the door, but each stopped by Anna Kramer, nodded, and thanked her for such a great meal.
Lydia’s brothers waved, but her father embraced her and whispered. “You made me proud today.” When he joined the other workers, she wiped a tear from her eye.
***
That night, the tired family lounged on the porch and relished the accomplishments of the day. The summer cicadas’ shrill songs shattered the twilight’s tranquility. In the corner of the front yard, a velvet-soft breeze lifted the willow tree’s limbs in a floating motion. Soon the deepening darkness sparkled with flashing fireflies like dancing stars. In the stillness, Lydia sent a chaste prayer to the shimmering stars and asked the angels to relay her thankfulness for such a blessed life.
