man, I often thought, that lasts and lasts. Every time he came in, he smiled and said, "Hello, Ginny," and when he went away, he told me when he'd be home, and made a point of saying good-bye. He'd thank me for meals and habitually used the word "please." Good manners stood him in good stead with my father, too, since they farmed Daddy's place together, and rented out the hundred and sixty. Daddy didn't get along as well with Pete, and Ty spent a fair amount of time smoothing things over between them.
Over the years, it became clear that Tyler and I were good together, especially by contrast to Rose and Pete, who were generally more stirred up and dissatisfied.
Ty greeted Jess with his characteristic friendliness, and it was weird look back and forth between them. The last time I'd seen Jess, he seemed so young and Ty had seemed so mature. Now they like contemporaries, with Jess, in fact, a shade more sophisticated and self-assured.
Caroline shook hands with Jess in her brisk, lawyer's way that Rose always called her "take me-seriously or I'll sueyou" demeanour. She may have been, as Daddy thought, old for a breeder, but she was young for a lawyer. I tried hard, for her sake, not to be amused by her, but I could see, right then, that Jess Clark was a little amused, too. She informed us that she planned to spend that night, then go to church with us, and be back in Des Moines by suppertime. Nothing the least unusual. Well, I've thought over every moment of that party time and time again, sifting for pointers, signals, ways of knowing how to do things differently from the way they got done. There were no clues.
MY GRANDMOTHER's PARENTs, Sam and Arabella Davis, were from the west of England, hilly country, and poor for farming. When they came the first time to Zebulon County, in the spring of 1890, and saw that half the land they had already bought, sight unseen, was under two feet of water part of the year and another quarter of it was spongy, they went back to Mason City and stayed there for the summer and winter. Sam was twenty-one and Arabella was twenty-two. In Mason City, they met another Englishman, John Cook, who, as he was from Norfolk, was undaunted by standing water. Cook was only a clerk in a dry-goods store, but a reading man, interested in the newest agricultural and industrial innovations, and he persuaded my great-grandparents to use the money remaining to them to drain part of their land. He was sixteen years old. He sold my greatgrandfather two digging forks, a couple of straight-sided shovels, a leveling hose, a quantity of locally manufactured drainage tiles, and a pair of high boots. When the weather warmed up, John quit his job, and he and Sam went out among the mosquitoes, which were known as gallinippers, and began digging.
On the drier land, my greatgrandfather planted twenty acres of flax, which is what every sodbuster planted the first year, and ten acres of oats.
Both flourished well enough, compared to what they would have done back in England. In Mason City, my grandmother, Edith, was born. John and Sam dug, leveled, and lay tile lines until the ground was too frozen to receive their forks, then they returned to Mason City, where both made acquaintance with Edith, and both went to work for the Mason City brick and tile works.
A year later, just after the harvest, John, Arabella, and Sam built a two-bedroom bungalow on the southernmost corner of the farm.
Three men from town and another farmer named Hawkins helped.
It took three weeks, and they moved in on November 10. For the first winter, John lived with Sam and Arabella, in the second bedroom. Edith slept in a closet. Two years later, John Cook purchased, again for a good price, eighty more acres of swampy ground adjacent to the Davises.
He continued to live with them until 1899, when he built a bungalow of his own.
There was no way to tell by looking that the land beneath my childish feet wasn't the primeval mold I read about
Over the years, it became clear that Tyler and I were good together, especially by contrast to Rose and Pete, who were generally more stirred up and dissatisfied.
Ty greeted Jess with his characteristic friendliness, and it was weird look back and forth between them. The last time I'd seen Jess, he seemed so young and Ty had seemed so mature. Now they like contemporaries, with Jess, in fact, a shade more sophisticated and self-assured.
Caroline shook hands with Jess in her brisk, lawyer's way that Rose always called her "take me-seriously or I'll sueyou" demeanour. She may have been, as Daddy thought, old for a breeder, but she was young for a lawyer. I tried hard, for her sake, not to be amused by her, but I could see, right then, that Jess Clark was a little amused, too. She informed us that she planned to spend that night, then go to church with us, and be back in Des Moines by suppertime. Nothing the least unusual. Well, I've thought over every moment of that party time and time again, sifting for pointers, signals, ways of knowing how to do things differently from the way they got done. There were no clues.
MY GRANDMOTHER's PARENTs, Sam and Arabella Davis, were from the west of England, hilly country, and poor for farming. When they came the first time to Zebulon County, in the spring of 1890, and saw that half the land they had already bought, sight unseen, was under two feet of water part of the year and another quarter of it was spongy, they went back to Mason City and stayed there for the summer and winter. Sam was twenty-one and Arabella was twenty-two. In Mason City, they met another Englishman, John Cook, who, as he was from Norfolk, was undaunted by standing water. Cook was only a clerk in a dry-goods store, but a reading man, interested in the newest agricultural and industrial innovations, and he persuaded my great-grandparents to use the money remaining to them to drain part of their land. He was sixteen years old. He sold my greatgrandfather two digging forks, a couple of straight-sided shovels, a leveling hose, a quantity of locally manufactured drainage tiles, and a pair of high boots. When the weather warmed up, John quit his job, and he and Sam went out among the mosquitoes, which were known as gallinippers, and began digging.
On the drier land, my greatgrandfather planted twenty acres of flax, which is what every sodbuster planted the first year, and ten acres of oats.
Both flourished well enough, compared to what they would have done back in England. In Mason City, my grandmother, Edith, was born. John and Sam dug, leveled, and lay tile lines until the ground was too frozen to receive their forks, then they returned to Mason City, where both made acquaintance with Edith, and both went to work for the Mason City brick and tile works.
A year later, just after the harvest, John, Arabella, and Sam built a two-bedroom bungalow on the southernmost corner of the farm.
Three men from town and another farmer named Hawkins helped.
It took three weeks, and they moved in on November 10. For the first winter, John lived with Sam and Arabella, in the second bedroom. Edith slept in a closet. Two years later, John Cook purchased, again for a good price, eighty more acres of swampy ground adjacent to the Davises.
He continued to live with them until 1899, when he built a bungalow of his own.
There was no way to tell by looking that the land beneath my childish feet wasn't the primeval mold I read about
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