Dust Bowl Diary by Ann Marie Low

Author:Ann Marie Low [Low, Ann Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8032-8065-6
Publisher: Nebraska
Published: 2014-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

Windswept

January II, 1935, Friday

School started Monday. It is still vacation to me because Leo has been out with a bad cold all week. I’ve been getting exams ready, report cards, monthly reports, and all such stuff.

January 25, 1935, Friday

It is cold, 20° to 30° below every day, and I haven’t been off the place for two weeks except to walk to the schoolhouse and back, wearing all the clothes I own to keep warm. One morning it was 23° below inside the old schoolhouse. It takes two hours to warm up the room for the kids, and even then I have to keep them all near the stove.

Last weekend, when it was very cold and stormy, a salesman going from Minot to Fargo got his car stuck while trying to cut across to Highway #9 by way of the road north of our place. He followed the fence through the storm until he got to our barn and asked Dad to pull him out with a team of horses. Dad agreed to, but urged him to go to the house first to warm up and have dinner.

“Go right up to the house and make yourself at home,” Dad said. “I’ll be in as soon as I feed my team.”

From the way Dad spoke, the salesman thought there was no one in the house, so he walked into the kitchen without knocking. I was kneeling with my back to the door, putting clean paper on the lowest shelf of the cupboard. Assuming Dad had come in, I said, without looking up, “I made you an apple pie for dinner. You ought to love me for that.”

A strange voice answered, “Indeed I shall.”

We had quite a laugh.

Meanwhile the land acquisition was being completed. The bank sold the land of the Scotts and both Brewer families. The three places were on the same section of land, but one went for twenty-two dollars an acre, one for twenty dollars, and one for fifteen dollars. The bank sold the land to the government for exactly what it was mortgaged for. Each dispossessed family received one hundred dollars to move.

Woodger had disappeared from the scene. Dad signed an option with the new agent. He would get a little more than twenty-two dollars an acre and could stay until May, 1936. I didn’t like it much, but Mama wanted him to sell. He could not afford a lawyer fee to go to court for more money, so that seemed the best deal he could get. At least he would be paid for his hay meadows, had a chance at another crop of hay and grain, and could dispose of his livestock and machinery in a leisurely way at the best price available in the next fifteen months.

February 12, 1935, Tuesday

Yesterday we had a thaw, and melting snow kept water in the low place under the swings. The youngsters spent the noon hour and recesses trying to scoop it out. After school Dora raced Carl for a swing, slipped, and landed in the puddle.

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