Story Ettie and Don

Kathy in FL

Kathy in FL

Administrator
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Chapter 18​


I miss him. But I don’t. He took up so much space. Now I have the space back. I know what I need to do with it but I’m not sure where to start.

He said he would come back around to check on us. I admitted that I wouldn’t object to it but I’m wondering if I should have. Am I encouraging something that isn’t there? Should I even want something to be there? God help me but I can’t stand the idea of being a tease. I also can’t stand the idea that I might be jumping from the frying pan into the fire so to speak and all because I’m lonely. Good Lord, I sound pathetic.

If this was before I would never be in this situation. There would be too many safeguards in place. Robert would probably be in my face as well … or at least other people would keep Robert in my face. I should have Robert in my face instead of just moving on like nothing happened. Maybe now with Don gone I’ll start to accept what is going on and feel the hurt and betrayal that I should have been experiencing. Not that I want to hurt. But I don’t want to feel this … this void where my feelings used to be either. I am not some Needy Nelly. I think I’ve proven that. I’ve made my own way since they all left me. But there’s other types of needs. Do I allow myself to feel them? Do I go about trying to fill them if I do start feeling them?

I spent months trying to hold the hurt and betrayal at bay, to try and hold things together thinking that Robert would come back and we’d have to figure out how to move on. And now on one man’s word I’ve just tossed Robert over, done my grieving, and have left him behind. What kind of woman does that make me?! I know it sounds insane to trust Don, but he’s never proven himself untrustworthy and he has certainly had the opportunity.

Oh for Heaven’s sake, put the brakes on it Ettie. Put the brakes on hard. This isn’t the pioneer days where widows had to bury a husband one day and on the next get remarried because they needed a protector. I don’t need a protector. I am the protector … for Evie, for the farm and all its denizens.

Maybe it is just libido. I like (liked?) being married … really, really enjoyed it as a matter of fact. Maybe I’m scared I’ll never have that again. God knows I can never trust Robert again even if he were to walk up the road and come home full of repentance. This isn’t his home, and it hasn’t been for nearly seven months. He made his choice. I didn’t realize he had made a choice but then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised … but I am. I still am. I suppose I need to focus on working through that confusion and surprise before I try to work up to anything else.

But right now, what I need to focus on is planning the spring garden and seeing what I can get in via forage until the garden starts producing. Hopefully things won’t be too bad. If current weather is any indication, we are going back to normal weather patterns. It is almost warm during the day as it is getting into the mid-50s. Still too cool at night to plant however as it gets cold enough that I could risk a frost and kill the seeds before they even germinate. But I’m already seeing green.

Onion grass. It is popping up all over the place. It is only big enough to snip the tops from but soon enough there will be bulbs and I’ll have wild onion to cook with … and I plan on seeing if I can preserve them as well. There’s other things as well. In sunny places in the front lawn I see miniature bittercress greens. Not big enough to do anything with but they will be soon.

I’ve already seen two common mushrooms despite how cold it was just a couple of weeks back. I think it was all the dampness we had. The first is turkey tail mushroom. Gran Gran used to make a brown dye from it but one time she used them to make a medicinal tincture for a friend that was suffering from cancer. I have no memory of whether it helped or not, but I remember Daddy giving me a firm lecture on not helping myself to any of my grandmother’s home remedies.

The other mushroom is one Momma called “chaga.” You talk about something that looks nasty. And it doesn’t even look like a mushroom if you want to know the truth … just like fungus, a gross fungus. It is supposed to be some kind of superfood or whatever. It was popular in the all-natural realm that our clinic sometimes ran into when trying to find out what prescriptions a patient was on. Some people just didn’t think to tell us they were on herbal or natural supplements; they didn’t view them as real medicines. And sometimes bad things resulted. So I’m not doing anything with either fungus because I don’t know enough about them and frankly I don’t need them. It will be April before I see any other edible mushrooms starting with the morel and by then I’m sure I will be more than ready for them to pop up.

I suppose I’ll go back to using work to get myself through the day. Or maybe all I’ll have time for is chasing Evie. Now that she is completely mobile she doesn’t want to have anything to do with the sling. At least as it rides across my back. I have to fool her a bit and turn the sling so that she is riding my hip. Not the easiest position for me to get any work done but I can’t leave her in the house alone and I can’t let her run loose in the forest. I tried to let her walk on her own but that was a mistake and a half as she kept falling or getting distracted, both of which slowed me down to the point of not accomplishing a single thing. Hunting is going to be fun … not. But I’m not going to worry about that right now as we are really stocked up and you don’t want to do much hunting in the Spring time to begin with or you will kill off the breeding stock. The animals aren’t in the best condition either … scrawny after using all their winter fat.

The other major task I need to keep working on daily is wood. Gathering it and chopping it because it goes out faster than I can bring it in. I’ve barely got a cord of fully seasoned wood left. Not good. I took a walk around the property today after Don left and I was right, a bunch of branches and limbs are down. A few trees came down as well but they are on the Carmichael property, not mine. It will mean a longer distance to haul the wood back but that is still better than denuding my land. I wonder how they did it in the old days? Did they simply clear cut the land to feed their stoves and fireplaces? Daddy would have known the answer to that question, I wonder why I never asked him.

I should write the questions down so that when I have the time I can try and look the answers up. Mr. Mason might know about the wood question but I’m not hiking all that way just for that. I wonder how they are doing and whether Kevie got over his cold before the bad weather set it. I wonder if they are going to have swap meets again and if so how on earth I would find out. I wonder if there have been any new developments with the war. I wonder a lot of things but don’t really have any way to find the answers, at least not right now.

I guess I am just delaying the inevitable. I need to check the house one more time and then go to bed. It feels strange sleeping in the big bed, maybe I will just stick with the trundle. I haven’t been able to do the sheets yet anyway. Clean sheets, clean start, clean mind. Last thing I need is more reason to dream.
 
Kathy in FL

Kathy in FL

Administrator
_______________

Chapter 19​


February. I haven’t written much. Okay, I haven’t written at all. I meant to several times but always wound up falling asleep instead. Been too busy and then caught a cold after falling in a stream. I was lucky not to dunk Evie at the same time and it was only the bottom half of me but it was enough. But I survived. Good thing too. Kevie … sorry … Kevin rode by early this morning and we crossed paths as I was out gathering rose hips. He relayed that there is going to be a Swap Meet tomorrow.

I’m going. Maybe he’ll be there, maybe he won’t … Don I mean. He certainly hasn’t stopped by as he said he would. I was worried at first. Wondered if I’ll ever know why he didn’t. Then I’d kick myself for allowing my thoughts to go that direction yet again because there isn’t a thing I can do about any of it. Either way I’m going. I want to see what is going on in the world. Need to see what is going on. I need to find out if … well I need to know if everything Don said was correct … if he’s being honest … or if something else is going on. Most of the time I’m absolutely one hundred percent positive that I believe him. Then there come those moments that a small bit that questions what I haven’t seen with my own eyes.

I need to go. Living in limbo sucks.

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I almost reconsidered going, now I’m glad that I didn’t; I mean I’m glad I went and didn’t stay home.

I feel churlish, like I’ve been pouting. I’m glad I found out the way I did and not in person, I might have come across like a shrew … a shrew who has absolutely no reason for being one, certainly no claim on him. I still don’t and feel completely stupid about how I’ve built things up on so little foundation. I should be ashamed but somehow, I’m not. Makes me wonder about myself to be totally honest. What kind of person does this make me? What kind of woman? What kind of example am I setting for Evie? At least I also got some confirmation on other matters that were bothering me.

I hiked out to the overlook. I had to backtrack a couple of times as some of the trail sections are so muddy they really aren’t traversable. It has been one of the wettest winters on record according to reports on the Mountain Monthly – a sort of newspaper type thing that really isn’t a newspaper so much as a printed bulletin that comes out of the information hub for our area. The content fuels local gossip at least as much as lack of news does. The bulletins are free if you read them and then return them for recycling. If you keep them, you have to pay for it in the local currency.

I take all the so-called news with a grain of salt. A lot of the stuff in the Monthly sounds like propaganda. It may be true but the way most of it is phrased sets my teeth on edge. The peace talks never happened. The other participants are blamed. The economy is in the tank but it’s ok since we’re doing much better than the rest of the world. Or so it is reported. Electrical service is to be resumed … or at least it will at some point, so have hope and be patient. Food availability is growing … if you plant a victory garden and aren’t wasteful and don’t hoard. Inflation is a problem … but it isn’t as bad as it could be because of the efforts of the monitors keeping people from violating the fair (“definitely not draconian”) bartering laws now in effect. On and on in that vein. It makes me wonder just how bad things really are if they must spin the “good news” as hard as they obviously are.

After my normal perusal from a safe distance, I carefully made my way down the trail and into the crowd. I didn’t see anyone I recognized at first until I saw the older couple doing a brisk business in dried mushrooms. I walked over and lucky for me they recognized me and were ecstatic to trade for the chaga and turkey tail mushrooms I’d brought with me, the chaga especially. I still don’t get the attraction but apparently it is a hot seller for them.

Getting a little nosey the old woman said, “See you’ve got some rose hips as well. About half my bushes were flooded and I lost the makings of a fine crop of them.”

I saw she was licking her lips like she’d like to reach into my bag and grab a handful. I stepped back a bit like I was trying to get a better look at what she had for trade. She was thinking quickly but I thought faster. I’d spotted a bag of mature honey locust pods.

“I’ll trade you weight for weight.”

Surprised the old woman said, “Of these ol’ things? They’re just dried up, no more sweet in ‘em.”

“I’m after the seeds.”

“Must be needing to plant yer some trees I ‘spect.”

I smiled like she’d hit the nail on the head but as the trade was made with her thinking she’d hit the jackpot and I know that I had, I thought of how wonderful it was going to be to grind those mature seeds up and have a calorie-rich, gluten free “flour” to help piece out the wheat and oat flour I was able to grind and make from the supplies I’d found at the old Carmichael place. Having a way to extend my flour was worth every prick I got from the thorny bushes.

I continued looking at the various tables and blankets set up at the Meet, but nothing really struck me as a necessity. I was also fighting disappointment. Don wasn’t there. I had just convinced myself I was being foolish and should leave when I heard, “Mrs. Belmont?”

I cautiously turned, not sure who would know me when I saw the man that operated as the local Postmaster. “Mr. Mackey.”

“I thought it was you. Have some letters for you.” The shocked look on my face must have tickled him because he laughed. “Been a while since I’ve seen anyone that surprised. You’re even in luck, they’re all paid for, so nothing is due.”

I didn’t know what to think and when he placed a tied bundle in my hand before turning to a customer that had come to mail a postcard all I could do was look at them. Trying to regain my composure I slipped them into my bag and made one more circuit before deciding that for now there really wasn’t anything I wanted that I could pay for. That was also about the time that Evie decided she was hungry beyond her ability to wait so I walked over to an area set aside for people to … well I guess it was a picnic area. Some people had purchased food items at the Meet and were making a meal of them but the majority of us looked like we had brought a sack meal from home, or wherever we had started from.

Carefully looking around I realized the slab of cornbread I gave Evie didn’t look out of place. While she ate, I pulled out the letters and looked at them. The first claimed to be a lawyer. Upon opening it I found notarized divorce papers and a prepaid enveloped to return the papers in. My head began to buzz, and I carefully replaced everything back into the original envelope and put it to the side. The next letter was from Uncle Paul.

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Dear Ettie, I am sorry I haven’t written sooner. God knows there is no excuse for it. No excuse for practically running off the man that brought us the news of you and your parents. I hope you can forgive me … and the rest of the family who all send their love. It was a shock, and I honestly didn’t know whether to believe it or not. I’m sorry I didn’t take him as seriously as I should have. There’s been some land grabbing and other such activities taking place and there’s warnings in nearly every bulletin about various criminal rings perpetrating fraud to take advantage of displaced families.

It took me a few days to get up the nerve to do some checking. You see I didn’t want to believe it, any of it. Almost as much as I didn’t want to believe anything could have happened to my brother, I didn’t want to find out Robert had abandoned you. And when I did and found both to be true, I’m afraid I displayed a certain temper that my grandfather had always preached against. I think I’ve managed to sideline any plans Robert may have had of making a claim against you and the farm. It took a friend … don’t you worry who … and a little blackmail by way of threatening to tell his family but you and Evie will be free.

If you don’t receive a letter from the law firm of Jenkins and Hicks before March, you need to let me know as soon as you can. I’m not above fulfilling my threats. I watched your Aunt Pauline suffer at the hands of a weak man; I won’t see it happen to my niece. It’s the least I can do in my brother’s memory.

I know it is unlikely to be anything you wanted but it’s the best that can be done in the situation you’re left to suffer through. I know your father would have a thing or three to say about it as well, but I absolutely do have your best interest at heart.

Mr. Stillwell said that you don’t have a regular mail service and that it may take time for you to get this as well as any communication from the law firm. However, once you do have it do not delay in responding. The sooner the better. Greed may overcome his fear and then we’ll lose the advantage we have. I wish this could be longer but the weight limit is strictly enforced. Love, Uncle Paul and the rest of the family.

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My head was already buzzing but Uncle Paul’s letter nearly had my head exploding. It was a lot to take in. There were four more letters, one regular mail and three that had a strange post mark and were stamped “opened by examiner.” Opening the first I quickly realized it was from Don.

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Dear Mrs. Belmont, I write this in the presence of your uncle in hopes that I can encourage you to abide by his plans. I realize it will come as a shock on top of the other shocks that you have already experienced but I am convinced he only has your best interests at heart.

It had been my intention upon leaving your care – and I once again thank you for without it I am sure my convalescence would have had a much poorer outcome – to try to convince your family to take you in. I arrived at their lodgings shortly after they discovered for themselves the truth. Your uncle is a very thorough man and discovered that your husband had been making enquiries as to how he could get himself put on the farm’s deed or in some way gain control of assets. Thankfully for all concerned he was not in possession of the knowledge of your parents’ deaths. I’m not sure how it would have ultimately worked out as your uncle has, at least for now, made such maneuvering impossible.

I know this is a lot to absorb in a short amount of time. I know you will want to think it out for yourself. I even know this must sound suspiciously like the very thing we are trying to prevent happening … the farm being taken away from you. But please, trust us if you can bring yourself to after everything that has happened. Robert and his family are in financial difficulties. I haven’t the space to explain it here, but I hope to explain it fully when next we meet.

Your Friend, Don Stillwell

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I checked the postmarks on the remaining three letters and opened the oldest.

Dear Ettie, and yes I’m risking calling you by your first name. I hope you are over being mad at me enough that doing so doesn’t upset you. Well, as you can see from this letter that it will be a while until I can get back as promised. Seems your uncle isn’t the only one with friends. That husband of yours … praying for your sake that he is your ex-husband sooner rather than later … picked a fight with me at one of the gates of Asheville. Most single men that get picked up by the local authorities are put to work or drafted. He didn’t have to worry about a draft – he has been marked unfit for duty for some reason – while my contracting experience gave them extra special reason to find me desirable for their purposes. Lucky me I even got to skip basic training.

I swear this isn’t how I meant to go about things and if you find you are too angry I’ll understand. I feel like I’ve let you and Evie down. All I am asking is if you can let me know either way by responding and letting me know that the two of you are safe and healthy on occasion it would bring me a great deal of comfort. Mackey can tell you how to reach me.

Don Stillwell

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Dear Ettie, I can’t tell you where I am and even if I did the mail examiners would black it out. I can’t even tell you what I’m doing exactly. Let’s just say it is closely in line with the kind of construction work I was doing before. The work isn’t bad, and I suppose it proves that I’m not completely useless. The men I’m working with aren’t a bad bunch either; in fact, I even know a couple of them from previous jobs.

It is too early to even hope to have heard from you, but I still pray that you and Evie are well. I think even if you are angry with me, you’ll at least let me know that much. And even at the risk of making you angrier I hope that you’ve followed through with your uncle’s plans. I know you were ambivalent and you waited for Robert for all those months, holding out hope, but he isn’t the man for you. You deserve better. And what he was planning wasn’t the least bit better.

There isn’t the space in this letter to provide you with all the proof your uncle and his friend obtained but put as succinctly as possible, the man was trying to use the farm as collateral to buy a business license in town. A grocery of some type from what your uncle showed me. That’s a high risk, high return operation these days. Most of them fail or barely break even given the price fixing the government is doing; but successful ones can ask just about anything they want in incentives to keep their doors open. The location he picked out was a prime one which is why he apparently thought to use the farm to secure a loan. Don’t let him. Given the character he has revealed I’m not sure if he intended to ever pay back such a sum which would have left you in an extremely difficult position and the farm at risk of being repossessed.

Funny how much I want to say and how little of it will actually fit on this piece of paper. I think about you and Evie, more than I have a right to. Please at least write to let me know you are all right.

Don Stillwell

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Ettie, I hope this finds you and Evie well. I have given it a lot of thought and realize I have way overstepped my bounds. Please forgive me. And you do not have to write.

Don Stillwell

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Kathy in FL

Kathy in FL

Administrator
_______________

Chapter 20​


After reading the last letter I looked up and realized there were a lot fewer people at the Swap Meet. I jumped up, grabbed Evie, and jogged over to the Post Master’s truck.

“Mr. Mackey, when will you be here next?”

“Next Meet is in two weeks though with the weather the way it is, could just as easily be a month.”

I wanted to have a coronary right there. There was no time to think. So I didn’t. I may live to regret it but then again it may be what saves the farm and in consequence Evie’s future. I pulled out the letter from the law firm and read it more thoroughly. It was pretty basic and not at all what I would expect from such an important document. To sum it up basically the dissolution of the marriage was being put down to “irreconcilable differences” with no further explanation, I was being asked to agree that in exchange for Robert revoking any claim he might have on my percentage of the farm I would not demand financial support from Robert. And in a brief, terse, document Robert asked that I release him from any and all parental obligations regarding Evie. If I didn’t, he would sue for sole custody however he could. It was the last that made me so furious that I signed. It was then I realized I needed a notary.

“Not to worry,” Mr. Mackey said. “Carl? We’ve got a document here that needs your stamp.”

It took the remainder of all the trade goods that I brought with me – including a jar of honey that was quickly hidden in the boot of their truck – but I got the divorce papers notarized and sent a letter to both my uncle and to Don. Both probably sounded rushed and could have used a good bit of editing but there wasn’t time for it. The entire Swap Meet was closing down and Mr. Mackey had already taken down his sign and started to pack up.

I left in a hurry, the sky had turned gray, and I didn’t want to get caught out on the trail home if it started to rain. On the way home I ran into Mr. Mason and Kevin. I must have looked a little shell-shocked.

“Ettie? Girl? You doing ok?”

“It’s ... just family stuff Mr. Mason. Heard from my Uncle Paul.”

“Wellllll … they comin’ out thisa way?”

“No Sir. It’s more along the lines of … well they were shocked by my parents’ passing and … uh … hmmm.”

“Paul and Pauline both were always good kids, but Herman knew they weren’t likely to stay on the land. He’s lucky your father was inclined. It is the way it is Honey, you’ll just have to bare it.”

I let him think whatever it was he was thinking and said, “Yes Sir. Daddy explained how things were. It just brought it all back up to hear from them after so long.”

“Now that I can understand. Had a couple of those letters myself. But I have Suzanne and Kevin here and that’s all there is to it. I’m blessed.”

We only spoke a few more minutes and then went our own way. That’s the way it is here. We’ll help each other out but we don’t care to get in each other’s business. It is live and let live. I was grateful he hadn’t felt the need to pry because the reality of what I had done was setting in.

When I got home I couldn’t slow down to really think. The animals needed caring for. I needed to check the food stores to make sure the nuisance animals hadn’t gotten into anything. I took the time to chop a little wood … a daily chore where I make sure to chop more wood than I use. I refilled all the water containers. And then I heated up a rich and hardy vegetable soup for our supper that we ate with the last of the cornbread I had made the previous night. Then it was clean up and playing with Evie for a bit to finish tiring her out and putting her to bed, for once without a fuss. It was only after all of that that I could sit down and think about everything that had happened.

If I had some hope left of Robert and I, by some miracle, reconciling that hope has died for the last time. Divorce. I feel contaminated. But I’m almost ashamed to say that a part of me also feels free. I’m finely free of all the wondering. Wondering if Mr. Stillwell had been telling the truth. Uncle Paul confirmed his words. The lawyer confirmed the situation. And most of all Robert himself confirmed it by denying his responsibility to Evie. Me I could … and will … and perhaps already have … come to terms with his not wanting me. But to deny his own daughter?! It isn’t like Evie is an accident; no, she was very much planned and very much wanted and anticipated. For that I hope … might as well write it as it is what I feel … I hope Robert is never blessed to have another child. He doesn’t deserve such a blessing.

I don’t know how I am ever to explain this to Evie. I know that Aunt Pauline had a hard time explaining how Uncle Tad had betrayed their family with his infidelity, but he never said he didn’t want his offspring and he felt guilt that eventually destroyed his health. I pray that when the time comes I have the answers for her questions. I pray that one day I have the answers to my own questions.

My letter to Uncle Paul was basically an assurance that I knew he had mine and Evie’s best interests at heart and that I was grateful for what he had done on my behalf and that I assured him that I had received, signed, and returned the papers from the law firm. I asked him, in the same vein, to make sure that the papers were properly filed so that our family’s interest in the farm was at least safe from that threat. I said there was both a lot and nothing that could be said as to how I was feeling about it all but the one thing I was sure of was that I trusted he and the family loved me and were praying for me and that I hoped that in return that they were sure of the same from me. The letter to Mr. Stillwell was more problematic.

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Dear Mr. Stillwell,

This is a bit of a rush as Mr. Mackey is closing down. I received everything all in one fell swoop today. A letter from my uncle, four letters from you, and a packet from a lawyer with the papers. This is to assure you of four things … first is that Evie is fine. Second is that I am fine. Third is that I signed and returned the papers. And fourth is that if you have time and are so inclined I would like to hear from you concerning your own health and well-being. There is no time for more except to say, I am not angry with you or about your actions. You have proven, yet again, that you are a trustworthy and honorable man. I would say more but that is the only thing I feel able to write at the moment. Wherever you are, take care and God Bless.

Your Friend,

Ettie Belmont Quinn

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Compared to the prose he sent me the letter sounded like something from an elementary school writing assignment, but I hadn’t had time for more. I honestly hadn’t had time for that, but Mr. Mackey was kind and the fact that he was well paid didn’t hurt either.

I know the hurt will eventually reach me through this numbness that I’ve been wearing like a cloak for so many months. It is like I can almost feel it now, but it just hasn’t quite broken through yet. Divorce. Betrayal. Anger. I’m sitting here with the family Bible open knowing I need to record this event like all of the others have been recorded but putting it in ink on the old, old paper will be even more final for me than signing and returning those papers to the lawyer.

There. I’ve done it. It’s over. Where’s this closure everyone is always looking for? Will I ever find it?

I must be out of my mind writing to Don Stillwell in the words I did. If I’d had a moment to really think about what I was doing I probably would never have done such a thing. In one breath I’m divorcing the only man I could have ever imagined myself loving, that I’d waited so long to have and then had waited for so long to return. In the next breath I’m writing a letter to a man that I barely know, have spent much of that time being irritated with for one reason or another, to encourage him. Encourage him to what I haven’t got the foggiest. Or should I say I don’t want to think about what I am possibly considering encouraging. Did that even make sense?

Shouldn’t I be balling my eyes out at the tragic ending of my fairytale? Well I’m not. Maybe I will later tonight or tomorrow … or maybe some days from now but for now I’m definitely not. Tonight I’m going to make my chore list for tomorrow and then check the house one last time, bank the fire, and then go to bed.
 
Kathy in FL

Kathy in FL

Administrator
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Chapter 21​


March. And another Swap Meet. They happen on the first and third weeks … weather permitting. Well the weather didn’t permit on the third week’s Meet for February which gave me more time to perfect the two letters that I was writing to give to Mr. Mackey. First one was to Uncle Paul and I’m glad I left a spot blank on the page because it allowed me to let him know I received his latest letter, thank him and the family once again, and to answer the few questions he’d thoughtfully asked.

Yes, as soon as the law firm had received my communication they filed it and then rushed notice of such to my uncle to get him off their backs; however, Uncle Paul said that he’d be keeping an eye out to make sure that Robert nor his family tried anything else. Uncle Paul also said that I’d be receiving a document from the state within the next month or two with a raised seal that I should never lose as it would be the primary proof of the divorce should Robert or his family ever try to deny it took place or that it was Robert that asked for the divorce in the first place. He hoped that I was doing well. I answered him by saying that I was putting all of the lessons that Daddy and Gran Gran had taught me to good use. I hope that suffices to let him know that I am getting along well enough all things considered. He reminded me on the strictures of conveying information by mail and I took that to mean not to be too free with my words and I answered him that I would very much take that to heart as I knew it would ease his mind.

The letter to Mr. Stillwell was a little more difficult to write, but not as difficult as the first one had been. I learned and am practicing the old style of writing where you convey as much as you can in as little space as you can. You have one piece of paper to write on and one small envelope to send it in. I thought I was being clever and really well until I heard at the Meet that some people had thought to steam open the envelope and use the inside of the envelope as a second page and then gluing it shut. I would say that is squeezing every penny you can from your postage.

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Dear Mr. Stillwell,

Or would you prefer Don? I’m grateful that you have dropped calling me Mrs. Belmont for all the reasons you can imagine but mostly because I’m not that woman anymore … I’m not sure who I am anymore, but I am sure that I am your friend Ettie. This letter may be repetitive as I’m not sure if my first letter arrived or not. I’m not even sure if my first letter was welcome or not. Either way you are getting another, but I will hold off until I hear from you before writing again. Once again, I want to assure you that Evie and I are fine. Also, I have agreed to sign those papers that Uncle Paul arranged for. [in small letters above this sentence I squeezed in: papers have been received and filed with the state; it is done.] The chickweed and wintercress are finally big enough to forage and I found a duck nest with freshly laid eggs and Evie and I ate very well, one egg being more than enough for both of us. I also have had great luck with pine needle tea. To the uninitiated it likely sounds disgusting, but I promise you that pine needle tea has a great deal of Vitamins C & A and is not just an old folks remedy. Made a very good trade at the Meet in February with the Chaga fungus that I foraged. Looks like nasty stuff to me but apparently it is in high demand due to its health benefits. I hope I do as well with it at the next Meet. [in small letters here I added that the second Meet in February had not happened due to weather so I hoped to mail the letter in March.] For now, we are still living on what I was able to forage in the autumn but April should really open up other opportunities but that is then and this is now. Mustn’t count your chickens before they hatch. Speaking of chickens, I’ve heard that they are now allowing small livestock inside the city limits though they are limited to the number and breed and only if the manure is gathered and turned in for the use of the new methane plant. ….

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I went on in that way until every millimeter of that piece of paper was covered, closing the letter once again with “Your Friend, Ettie”. I suppose I will force myself to do as I said and wait on hearing from him before writing another letter. Or at least in mailing another letter. I’ve actually drafted another letter and will add to it in the evenings when I am not too tired to do so.

And the reason I am tired? Syrup. Yes, I said syrup. It has been since Travis was alive that my family boiled tree sap to make our own syrups. It is an all-day production every day but as the forage is slim and since I can’t get a garden in until the ground dries a little more this seems to be the best use of my time.

I am more thankful than I can say that the old rocket stove worked just as it always had and that I’ve been able to use tree trash and scrap wood to boil the syrup rather than the large, seasoned logs that I am trying to save for the fireplace. It is not as cold as it was but it is certainly not summer time temperatures.

The other thing that I have taken to doing is canning wild greens. First off is fiddleheads. I eat them other ways as well, but I’ve canned what I can – no pun intended. I’ve also canned wintercress, chickweed, and garlic mustard. I have a couple of 4 oz. jars of the field garlic that I’ve found; it will come in handy if the domestic garlic doesn’t make.

And I’m planning for April and May, praying that I can start opening up the garden though it is awful to do it by hand, especially after all the rain because everything is so packed down. When the gardens were done, I worked in all the compost and manure that I had. It has to be enough. Because if I can’t, all the work I’ve done in February and March will have been for naught. I’ve seedlings starting to pop up in the greenhouse already. Some trays are still dormant but there’s enough that I should have plenty to transplant … if I can prepare the ground to do it.

At least last year this time … has it really been that short of a time since they all left? Since they left me alone to take care of Evie by myself? To feed us … by myself? To protect us … by myself? To do all of the worrying … by myself? To do all the loving … by myself? I catch myself being angry at them less and less, but it still happens. Like today.

I had to shoot a bear. It was a scrawny, mangy looking thing, a yearling that wasn’t surviving too well on its own for the first time, and I had to leave it in the woods as I didn’t think it was healthy enough to eat. It would have eaten Evie and I however. In a heartbeat. It was a heartbeat away from trying. It had already gotten into one of the sap buckets. Find the silver lining Ettie, finding something. Ah, I’ve got it; the bucket wasn’t damaged.

Shooting the bear scared Evie who was already out of sorts because she wanted to get down rather than be carried. She then refused to be put down. Every time I tried, she would shriek and try and climb back up, pinching and pulling as she went. I finally was forced to do the one thing that I hate the most and that was to pop her behind to get her to mind. It was not the work I was finding myself unable to do so much as it was the fact that she was making carrying the gun dangerous. What I wouldn’t give for another adult, or even a teenager, to share the load that Evie is becoming. It isn’t her fault that I’m not up for the job, it is simply what it is. I must find a way to do this even if it means even stricter measures. To feed us and take care of us I cannot be tied to the house but at the same time I can’t leave her home alone. I used to wonder at what I considered the ignorance and thoughtlessness of parents who would leave young children alone while they went off to do other things. Now I am getting a glimpse of what might have driven them … but only a glimpse. I refuse to take that route. There are too many things that could go wrong.

The only sap that I am collecting this year is maple. It takes the fewest gallons of sap to make a gallon of syrup, something near to forty give or take a few on either side depending on the tree. And the trees are giving a lot of sap this year. Reading Daddy’s farm journals, I’ve learned that isn’t true every year. Perhaps this spring has been such a blessing in that respect because of the harshness of the winter. I don’t know and I don’t suppose I really have the time to think about it, there is too much work to do to simply daydream about things that simply are the way they are.

And so saying I suppose I simply must put this pen down and go about the business of checking the house and getting to bed. Tomorrow will be another long day. Another long day alone to do what needs doing. Something else that simply is what it is with no changing it.
 
Griz3752

Griz3752

Retired, practising Curmudgeon
"The only sap that I am collecting this year is maple. It takes the fewest gallons of sap to make a gallon of syrup, something near to forty give or take a few on either side depending on the tree. And the trees are giving a lot of sap this year. Reading Daddy’s farm journals, I’ve learned that isn’t true every year. Perhaps this spring has been such a blessing in that respect because of the harshness of the winter. I don’t know and I don’t suppose I really have the time to think about it, there is too much work to do to simply daydream about things that simply are the way they are."

My only experience w/ Maple trees was when I was dating a young lady from Cheminis, ON (across the road from PQ, so Quebecois was the local language)
Ali I can say is the idyllic images of tapping trees to get the sap doesn't mention word one about how physically draining the work is. And I was airborne fit way back then . . . .
 
Griz3752

Griz3752

Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Griz3752 said:
"The only sap that I am collecting this year is maple. It takes the fewest gallons of sap to make a gallon of syrup, something near to forty give or take a few on either side depending on the tree. And the trees are giving a lot of sap this year. Reading Daddy’s farm journals, I’ve learned that isn’t true every year. Perhaps this spring has been such a blessing in that respect because of the harshness of the winter. I don’t know and I don’t suppose I really have the time to think about it, there is too much work to do to simply daydream about things that simply are the way they are."
Click to expand...

Griz3752 said:
My only experience w/ Maple trees was when I was dating a young lady from Cheminis, ON (across the road from PQ, so Quebecois was the local language)
Ali I can say is the idyllic images of tapping trees to get the sap doesn't mention word one about how physically draining the work is. And I was airborne fit way back then . . . .
Click to expand...
 
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