Fruitlands Read Free Page B

will be our principal food this winter. Apple and pear trees have been planted and mulberry trees as well. I imagine the fruit trees in the spring with their blossoms floating on a blue sky.
    Mother and I and my sisters have set out ourkitchen garden. The only thing better than a tub full of suds is a handful of dirt.
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    J UNE 30, 1843
    Abraham helped Mother wring out the sheets. With his long dark hair and great brown eyes and his silent ways, Abraham is mysterious. He is the only one of the men to lend Mother a hand. I think perhaps he is an exiled prince from some far kingdom.
    When he thought no one was about, Mr. Palmer went into the kitchen and made bay rum to comb through his whiskers. I glimpsed the recipe, which called for oil of bay, oil of neroli, alcohol, and water.
    I made a dreadful mistake today and caused trouble for Mother. “Father,” I asked, “how is it we can use soap when it is made from tallow, which comes from the cow?” No sooner were the words out of my mouth then I saw the horrified look on Mother’s face. At once I realized what I had done. As long as nothing was said, Mother might use the soap, but once it had been said out loud that soap required tallow from a cow, all was nearly lost. Luckily Father is first a philosopher andsecondly a friend of cows, for he said, “It would be wasteful and discourteous to the cow to throw away the soap we had already purchased before we aspired to higher ideals.”
    Mother breathed a sigh of relief, for she had wisely taken with us a large supply of soap.
    Father also gave in when it came time to plant vegetables, letting Mother put base, downward-growing potatoes, radishes, and turnips in along with the squash and beans and peas.
    I go out each day to see what seeds have sprouted. I am heartily sick of bread and applesauce. When I look at the bare earth, I imagine fat pea pods and dangles of beans so that my mouth waters. The radishes have already begun to form. Yesterday when no one was looking, I pulled one and ate it, though it was no larger than a kernel of corn. Afterward I was ashamed of my gross appetite, but it is hard to work when you are famished. Even my stomach growls at its hunger.
    When I complained to Mother, she gently chided me. “If our hearts are willing, Louy, dear, our stomachs will follow.”
    After that I cried and resolved not to complain.
    When our work was finished and our lessons done, I went running up and down the hills. No matter how miserable I am, when I run down a hill, I run so fast my misery can’t catch up with me.
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    J ULY 1, 1843
    Each morning after our shower we have our singing lesson. Everyone joins in. I wish we might have our breakfast first. I am sure that if my stomach were full, I could sing with a louder voice.
    This afternoon I picked a bouquet of field daisies and put them on the table for our supper. After our meals Mr. Lane leads us in an edifying discussion. Today he kindly noticed my daisies and took them as a subject for our talk.
    â€œLouisa has put a vase of flowers on the table,” he said. “Let us think whether the flowers are better plucked and placed in a vase or growing in the field.”
    Father: Can we not agree that the field is their natural place?
    Anna: When they are growing in the field, they last longer than they do in a vase of water.
    Lizzie: But we can’t see them in the field. Here they are right before our eyes.
    Father: Is it not better that we exercise our limbsand go into the fields so that we may see the flowers as nature meant us to?
    Me: I am very sorry I plucked the flowers. After this I’ll leave the flowers where they belong.
    I cried and was sorry. It is generous of Mr. Lane to take so much notice of my faults and so help me to improve.
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    J ULY 1, 1843
    There is so little in the way of food on our table that I thought to put daisies there to keep our minds off of our empty plates. As a result so many words