Blue Shadows Farm: A Novel

13. Memories—October 2000

Emma October 2000 Blue Shadows Farm Aweek after the school board meeting, I sat by my old cookstove. I could see the dishtowels drying on the same rack that my mother used. I heard the snap and pop of burning wood, and smelled the occasional whiff of oak smoke that snuck out from the stove lids. I loved that smell, even though the smoke did tend to darken the ceiling . It was a drizzly, cool, fall morning, and I was wrapped up in my thoughts. The warm cup of coffee I held with both hands provided a comforting feeling, one of the little things I’d come to appreciate, especially on damp mornings when my arthritis kicked in. The smell of freshly brewed coffee on a woodstove was right up there with oak smoke, newly plowed soil, and fresh-cut alfalfa hay. As my daily routine, I wove my long white hair into a single braid that hung down my back nearly to my waist. I wore my favorite old, loose-fitting, cotton flannel shirt. It had once been a rather bright green but with many washings had faded to a dull, nondescript color. It had also become a bit thin at the elbows. My gray cotton work pants and heavy, scuffed shoes completed my usual attire. Not 80 13 Memories 81 Memories—October 2000 especially ladylike, but who wants to dress like a lady when you’re my age? Far better to be comfortable. I stared out the rain-streaked kitchen window of my weathered old farmhouse as I did every morning. I was born in this house on May 15, 1926, a surprise to my folks, who thought they couldn’t have children. I’d like to believe I’ve been surprising people ever since. I let my mind wander. I thought about hiking my nature trails all seasons of the year. I thought about the garden families, some of them second generation, who planted gardens each year on my farm and had a grand time doing it. And, I thought about Ashley Anderson . I had trouble understanding the Ashley Andersons of the world. They volunteered to help at this thing and another and took a great interest in every aspect of their children’s lives, but, oh, they could be such a pain in the behind. I just can’t understand how some people overprotect their kids and deny them a little adventure and an opportunity to gain something beyond what’s in a textbook or even what their teacher had in mind for the kids to learn. What I know about nature I’ve learned on this old farm— walking its trails, listening to its sounds, watching the seasons change. I love this place. It’s been in my family since 1866. One hundred and sixty sandy, hilly acres. A treasure. I’ve developed a reputation for speaking out for the environment, for going out on a limb and saying what I think. I write letters to the editor, especially to the Link Lake Gazette—and I usually get in trouble for it. The Reverend Ridley Ralston from the Church of the Holy Redeemed goes out of his way to remind his flock of “that old woman’s transgressions,” as he calls my reminder that taking care of the land is as important as watching after people’s souls. “The land needs a voice,” I say. “Needs someone to take its side when it is misused.” People sometimes laugh at my words and often argue with me. But I stand up for what I believe. When you’ve got something to say, stand up and say it. That’s what I believe. Just because you’re walking a little short doesn’t mean you can’t speak out. Surprise people. Surprise them that you know what’s going on in the world and that you listen to what people have to say, especially those who disagree with you. Surprise people that you read widely and have an opinion on a variety of issues. Surprise them that you’re willing to express yourself , take a position, and argue for it. When you catch them barking up the wrong tree, call them on it. These thoughts flashed through my head when I thought about the Ashley Anderson situation. “Most stubborn old woman in Ames County,” Jon Jessup, our mayor, once said of me. “Everyone think like...