Christmas celebrations were over and life settled into a comfortable rhythm for Elsie. The cold and snowy weather kept Ike in the house more than usual, and she enjoyed his company. The house often rang with the laughter of Agnes and Walter’s youngsters confined to playing indoors. Sometimes, laughter changed to tears and cries of childish frustration.
Imperceptibly the daylight hours lengthened although the sky was obscured by clouds most days. Ike declared it was one of the snowiest winters he could remember. Knee high paths cut across the yard from the house to the wood shed and the out buildings. It required daily work to keep them open, the ever present wind sending snow to drift into the depressions at a regular rate.
Elsie was glad of Walter’s presence to aid Ike with the never ending chore. Sarah was still a worry on her mind, always in the background even when she wasn’t consciously thinking about the imminent departure. In some ways the brutal weather was a blessing. Anxious as the couple were to get on their way the inclement conditions precluded any notion of an early departure.
The house wrapped its warm arms around her family and kept them safe. The end of January was almost upon them and Elsie looked forward to the approaching spring. She would plant some oat seeds in a small pot in the kitchen toward the end of February so she would have some growing on Easter weekend. It was a custom she picked up from her mother, who had learned it from her mother. Over the years the significance of the origin of the tradition was lost, but to Elsie is always signified the promise of new life and plenty. And wasn’t that what Easter promised as well? The Saviour’s trials and sacrifices so that His children could look forward to everlasting life in his Father’s House.
Her lips moved in the old familiar words. “Let not your heart be troubled. Ye believe in God, so believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many mansions. If it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself, that where I am, there ye may be also.” She skipped forward to the bit she liked the best. “Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life. No man cometh unto the Father, but by me.” The passage always evoked a sense of security and comfort in her heart.
* * *
Thursday January 30th, 1947 dawned cold and overcast. The clouds were so low they seemed to touch the fields themselves, and the trees and shrubs shrank into themselves away from the touch. Ike and Walter came in from morning chores with cheeks chapped red from the wind. Elsie’s husband knocked the smattering of snowflakes from his cap before hanging it up. Agnes shrieked with laughter when Walter kissed her cheek and rubbed his cold nose against her warm skin.
“Looks like a storm is brewing,” Ike remarked settling at his place at the table and wrapping work worn hands around the large mug of coffee Elsie placed before him.
“Go on with you.” Agnes swiped playfully at Walter with a dish towel.
He offered her an unrepentant grin and went to hang his coat up in the mud room. By the time he returned, Agnes was setting plates filled with bacon, waffles and vanilla sauce, black pudding and sausage on the table. Elsie added a platter of toast, and another with fried eggs on it. The waffles were a favorite of the young ones and they’d soon be coming in for their share.
“Do you think it will really storm?” Agnes glanced out the window at the pearl grey sky which was rapidly filling with wind driven clouds which scoured the landscape. The howl and whistle of its voice screeched around the eaves and rattled the window frames.
“It’s going to snow, no doubt, but it won’t last long. It rarely does,” Walter assured her.
“Still, I should go and make sure there’s plenty of wood inside the hen house to keep the stove going if it blows for too long. And check the feed bin too.” Agnes pulled on a heavy sweater over the one she already wore, and stepped out into the mud room to gather coat, mitts and scarf.
“I’ll come help, Mome.” Anna came into the kitchen. “The chickens are my responsibility now, remember.” She followed her mother into the mud room to swath herself in outwear. Only her blue eyes showed by the time she wrapped a long scarf around her face over her coat and pulled her knitted hat down low on her forehead.
“Let’s go then, before it gets worse.” Agnes led the way out the back door.
Elsie followed their progress across the yard, their bodies bent into the strong northwest wind, tails of their scarves whipping in the gale. Already flakes fell thicker than only half an hour ago. She sat down to finish her coffee before readying the children’s breakfast. There would be no school today so Agnes had allowed them to sleep in. All except Anna, who was always up before the sun, even in the long days of summer.
When the men were finished eating, Elsie cleared the table and began the makings of pancakes for the youngsters to stretch the supply of perogies. A fist of wind rattled the windows and shook the frame house. Her heart jumped a bit in spite of herself. It’s only a storm coming in, she reminded herself.
Anna and Agnes returned, a blast of snow and frigid air accompanying them. “My goodness, that wind cuts right to the bone,” Agnes gasped while unwinding her snow encrusted scarf. “It’s really starting to come down too.” She gestured toward the window where snow stuck to the frosted panes in white blossoms.
Walter rose and went to put on his outer clothes again. “I’d best bring in some more wood before it gets worse out there. Looks like we’re in for a blizzard if that sky is any indication.” He turned his farmer’s eye to the worsening storm.
Ike got his feet as well and went to join his son-in-law. “Best make sure the barn is shut tight and the livestock is well bedded.”
“Throw them some extra feed just in case the storm gets worse by tonight. It will save you a trip out in the dark,” Elsie suggested.
Ike turned to her with a smile, his coat half on one shoulder. “You trying to tell me how to care for the animals now, are you?”
“Go on with you, old man. I’m just trying to save you from being buried in some snowdrift. You wouldn’t thaw out ’til spring.”
His chuckle followed him out the door.
“I got a few more eggs,” Anna announced, putting six brown eggs in the bowl on the counter. “The stove is pretty well stoked and the water isn’t frozen. I already gave them extra straw this morning and filled the hopper with grain.”
“You’re a good girl, Anna.” Elsie ruffled her granddaughter’s hair.
The patter of feet in the upstairs hall announced the arrival of the rest of the family before their high pitched voices echoed in the stairwell. The phone shrilled over their excited chatter as the children burst into the room.
“Hello.” Elsie answered the summons while Agnes shushed her brood.
“Mome? It’s Susan. I just heard on the radio there’s a blizzard coming. I wanted to be sure you knew so you could make preparations. They’re saying it’s going to be a bad one.”
“We haven’t had the radio on this morning, but it’s snowing here now and the wind is picking up,” Elsie replied. “Have you talked to Helen or Sarah yet?”
“Not yet, I called you first. I’ll contact them as soon as I hang up. I don’t trust the phone wires in this wind. The service might go down at any time.”
“I’ll let you go then. Thanks for the news. I’m going to call your brothers while the phone is still working. Stay safe.” Elsie rang off. She turned to Agnes who was buttering toast for the twins. “That was Susan. The weatherman says there’s a blizzard coming.”
“I think it’s already here.” Agnes nodded at the snow covered window which was letting only a diffuse blue light now. “I hope the menfolk come in soon.”
“It does look like it’s going to be a bad one,” Elsie agreed, casting a worried glance at the increasingly thick fall of snow and taking note of the different pitch in the wail of the wind. The screech of the telephone wires in the gale, clearly audible even in the house, sent a shiver down her spine.
“I’m going to call your sisters and the boys.” Elsie lifted the receiver and began her calls. By the time she’d spoken to Helena and Sarah, the snow was already drifting across the drive and piling against the outbuildings. The phone connection crackled and cut out from time to time, but she managed reach Ed, Jake and Hank and reassure herself everyone was safely at home and not caught out somewhere in what was rapidly becoming a dangerous storm.
The last call she made was to Hank and Frieda who lived the farthest away, over by Niverville. Frieda assured her that they were fine and well prepared for the storm. It hadn’t intensified at their place yet and Hank was out closing the livestock into the barn and pitching extra hay into the sheep pen and cattle mangers. She thought he would get the evening milking done before the blizzard hit. While it was now snowing heavily in Silberfeld, it was only beginning to fall outside Niverville. Elsie hung up the phone at the same time the tramp of boots stamping on the back steps, and an increase in the sound of the wind when the door opened, announced the return of the men from the barn.
With swift efficiency, she poured too large mugs of coffee and took the men’s outerwear from them. Agnes came to help her beat the snow from the coats and scarves. She clapped the mitts together to knock what she could off. Rather than leave the garments in the mudroom, Elsie brought them into the kitchen and hung them over the backs of chairs near the wood stove. Agnes placed some large towels on the linoleum to catch the water than ran off as the snow melted.
“I don’t like the looks of this storm,” Walter remarked, wrapping his big hands around the pottery mug for warmth.
“It’s just a blizzard. There’s always at least one every winter,” Agnes replied, although the furrows on her forehead belied her words.
“It’s come up too fast, and there’s an odd note in the voice of that wind…” Ike shook his head, years of farming and reading the weather patterns of the area putting lines of worry on his face.
“We’ve lots of food in the house, and feed in the barn for the animals. Anna has bedded up the chickens and there’s plenty of dry wood for their stove. We’ll just have to wait it out. These things never last more than a day or so,” Elsie said, seeking to alleviate the tension in the room.
Anna and her younger siblings were playing hide and seek upstairs. Shrieks and laughter accompanied the patter of their feet. Elsie was thankful they weren’t aware of their elder’s concerns with the weather.
“Have you spoken to the boys?” Ike asked.
“Yes, every last one of them, and the girls too. Frieda said it hadn’t really started to snow yet over by Niverville, but the others near here all said it was snowing hard. I made sure to call right away in case the lines go down in the storm.”
“Ah, that’s good then. One less thing to worry about.” Ike leaned back in his chair, legs crossed at the ankles and outstretched under the table. He rested the coffee mug on his stomach, cradled in his hands. “The temperature is dropping fast. We’ll have to make sure the fires stay lit during the night.”
“I think we’ll bring the twins into bed with us to keep them warm,” Agnes said.
Walter nodded, head turned toward the kitchen window where the daylight was blotted out by the snow clinging to the single pane glass.
Elsie supressed a shudder when a particularly strong gust of wind hammered the north windows of the house. She hated the wind when it stormed like this. It always reminded her of the storms on the ship when they moved to Paraguay so many years ago. She’d been sure they were all going to drown beneath the great towering waves. The howl of a prairie storm somehow made everything come rushing back.
Anxious to do something to take her mind from the memories, she got to her feet and fetched the containers of coal oil and kerosene.
“Agnes, will you come and help me fill the lamps please? There’s no telling how long it will be before the electricity goes out.”
“Of course, Mome. I’ll put some wood on the fire in the living room and start the little heaters upstairs in the bedrooms.”
“Anna’s room is on the north side, she might be better to sleep down here on the sofa near the fireplace. The wind will rip right through her room at the rate it’s blowing.”
“That’s a good suggestion. I’ll ask her if she would like to do that. You know how she can be, funny little thing.” Agnes smiled.
“That’s true. She does have a mind of her own,” Elsie agreed.
The two women filled every oil lamp in the house but only lit the one in the living room. There was little to do for the rest of the day save listen to the radio when they could get reception and keep the children occupied. Elsie spent the afternoon by the fire in the living room knitting. She made sure there were plenty of batteries for the radio, if the power went out, as it surely would, they would need them.
The storm closed in around the prairie homestead and the winter twilight came early. Snow plastered the single pane windows and wind snaked through every crack it could find billowing the curtain when the gusts hit the building.
Elsie closed the door between the living and dining room as well as the kitchen. The cook stove would keep the kitchen warm, and the fireplace threw enough heat to make the living room cozy. The twins and Anna curled up before the fire on the braided rug Elsie made years ago. Agnes sat on the settee beside Elsie, while Ike and Walter huddled around the radio trying to get some news of the storm from the outside world. The tube radio crackled and gave off intermittent squeals while Ike fiddled with the dials. For brief moments the announcer’s voice came through clear.
“It sounds like the storm is intensifying. They’re warning against travel and advising people to prepare for at least three days of blizzard weather.” The click of the switch was lost in the sound of the snow battering the house.
Elsie put down her knitting and moved to peer out the window. “Three days? That’s more than usual for this time of year. Weather like this usually blows out in under forty-eight hours.” She pushed the curtain back and scratched at the heavy frost coating the pane. “Oh my goodness!”
Her exclamation brought the other adults to the window. “Look at the height of the drift on the porch! It’s up to the window sill already.”
“Honest?” Anna popped up beside Elsie. “Let me see!” She dashed into the hall and pulled the front door open before Elsie realized her intention. “Oh! Come see all the snow!”
“Anna! Shut that door this instant,” Walter snapped. He moved his daughter out of the way and pushed the door shut, but not before taking note of the piled snow against the screen door.
Elsie got a good look before the door slammed shut against the wind driven snow blasting into the front hall through the screen. The dry, hard packed snow was halfway up the door and covered the porch in an even, ever rising, blanket. If she didn’t know there were four steps down to the yard she would have thought the door opened onto level ground.
She returned to the living room after sweeping up the snow from the hall floor. No sense in letting it melt and spoil the hardwood Ike so painstakingly laid when the house was built. With the abundance of oak trees, the hardwood had been easy to come by. Ike and Walter were standing by the door into the kitchen, while Agnes was calming a weeping Anna.
“I didn’t mean any harm, Mome. I just wanted to see how much snow had fallen.” The girl raised her tear stained face to her mother. “Do you think the chickens will be okay? The fire won’t last for three days, will it? I can’t let them freeze.” She started to push away from her mother.
“Your father and grosspape will take care of them when they go out to milk the cows. Come along now, children. I think it’s bedtime, and I believe I know just which Bible story will be a good fit for tonight.” Agnes shepherded the children upstairs to the bedrooms where the small heaters were pushing back the ever increasing cold.
Elsie followed their progress until the shadows of the stair well swallowed them up. The reassuring tread of their feet on the floorboards overhead somehow offered comfort. She turned her attention to the men by the door.
“Where are you going?” she asked when they opened the door and started into the kitchen.
“You go ahead, Walt. I’ll be there in a minute.” Ike waved his son-in-law forward. “The way that snow is drifting we won’t be able to get out of the house in a few hours. I’ve never seen a storm like this one in all my years. Walter and I are going to clear a path to the woodshed and the barn. It’s gonna take some work to keep it clear I’m afraid.”
“Wait, I can help,” Elsie offered. “Just let me go change into something warmer.”
“No. You stay here where it’s warm. See if you can get one of the children on the phone, see how they’re doing. Sarah and Arnold are alone, unless they’ve managed to make it over to Helen’s. It will be safer if they can stay together and pool their resources.” Ike moved into the kitchen and started to pull on his outer wear. Walter had already gone out into the lee of the house, protected by the mudroom projecting out from the house proper.
“Fine, I’ll do that. But you be careful. The two of you stay together. Don’t get separated, you know how easy it is to get lost in all that whirling snow. Don’t be out there too long, either,” she called after his retreating back. The kitchen door closed with a click of the latch, followed by the slam of the mud room door. Shaking her head, Elsie put more wood on the stove, almost dropping the last billet of oak when the lights flickered and died. She pushed the wood all the way in and slid the lid back into place with the cast iron lifter.
Feeling her way around the table in the sudden darkness, Elsie pushed open the door to the living room and stepped into the flickering glow of the kerosene lamp and the fireplace. She reached up and took the full lamp from the mantle where Agnes placed it earlier. She removed the chimney and lit it with a spill from the fireplace. Holding it in front of her she paused at the bottom of the stairs. Agnes seemed to have things well in hand, the soft illumination of an oil lamp shone onto the landing. The children were giggling about something, so the loss of electricity didn’t appear to be bothering them.
Reassured, Elsie went back into the kitchen and placed the lamp in the middle of the table. It gave sufficient light for her to put on a fresh pot of coffee. Once the pot was on the heat, she lifted the receiver on the phone and tried Sarah’s number. There was no answer and the line went dead after two rings. She glared at the phone as if it had done it on purpose just to vex her. Elsie tried Helen’s next. Her knees almost gave out in relief when the call was answered.
“Helen?”
“Mome. How bad is it at your place?” Helen’s voice came faintly over the crackling line.
“Bad enough. The snow is already halfway up the front door. Pape and Walter are out shovelling a path to the woodshed and the barn. How is it there? Are Sarah and Arnold with you?”
“Yes, Arnold brought Sarah over right after it really started to blow. About the same. Martin and Arnold are out shovelling too. The radio said we should expect at least three days of this. If that happens we’ll be buried,” Helen’s voice took on a note of hysteria.
“Let’s pray for the best. There’s nothing else we can do, this is in the Lord’s hands.” Elsie paused. “How is Sarah managing? Is she all right?” She twisted the cord in her fingers, glancing every few seconds at the door.
“I think Sarah is taking this better than the rest of us. All she can talk about is going to Mexico. The only comment she’s made about the storm is that it might postpone their departure if it takes too long to melt come spring.” The faint hysteria faded to be replaced by exasperation.
“Did you get all the stock in? Thank the good Lord Ike got everything in before this began,” Elsie changed the subject.
“Yes, Hank got word from the CPR that the storm was coming, so he called and let us know. Susan was supposed to call you and pass on the message.”
“She did, thank you. Have you talked to your other brothers?” Elsie caught her bottom lip between her teeth. It was a worry when the family wasn’t all under one roof, even though most of them lived nearby. Hank and Frieda, in Niverville, were the farthest away.
“Yes, Mome. Just after the snow started to fly. They were all ready and had the stock in,” Helen’s voice broke up and the line crackled and went dead.
Frowning, Elsie replaced the receiver. It was a comfort the line had stayed up long enough for her to reassure herself the family was safe and warm. She pulled the heavy iron frying pan from the drawer and set it on the stove top, putting a dollop of bacon grease into it to heat. The men would need something to eat after battling the cold and wind. She took the loaf pan of heavy porridge out of ice box and began to cut slices. It was more of a breakfast item, but it would surely stick their ribs when the men came in.
The drippings were sizzling in the pan now and she slid four slices into the fat. With one ear she listened for the mud room door. Ike and Walter had been out in the storm for over half an hour. Far too long in this weather. She could feel the temperature dropping by the minute, between the wind driving the snow and cold, it would scour the skin off your face in moments.
“Where are Pape and Walter?” Agnes came into the kitchen, a line of worry marring her fair forehead. She busied herself setting two places at the table and fetching cream and sugar for the coffee. “Do you think we should go look for them? What if something happened?” Agnes moved restlessly to the snow blocked window.
“They went out to clear a path to the wood shed and the barn. It must be taking longer than they anticipated.” Elsie flipped the porridge slices in the pan making sure both sides were golden and crispy. “Can you please put the maple syrup on the table as well?” She snuck a worried glance toward the stubbornly closed mudroom door.
“Mome, I’m scared.” Anna came into the kitchen and curled up on a chair, feet tucked up under her. “When is the snow going to stop?”
“It will stop when God wills it to,” Elsie said. She set the flipper down and moved to give the girl a hug. “There’s no need to be afraid. The Lord will watch over us.”
“What are the twins up to?” Agnes addressed her daughter while casting a worried glance at the ceiling. All was quiet, which could be a good thing or a bad thing.
“You didn’t leave a lamp lit up there did you? Not with the twins all on their own?” Agnes started for the door.
“No, Mome. I blew the lamp out and put it up where they can’t reach it. They’re asleep in your bed and I made sure the heater wasn’t near the bed or the curtains,” Anna spoke in an exact replica of her mother’s tones.
Elsie hid a smile and turned back to remove the frying pan from the direct heat. She pushed it over to where it would keep warm, but not burn.
“When is Pape coming in?” Anna wanted to know.
“Pape and your grosspape will come in when they’re done. Don’t you worry your head about it. Both Pape and Grosspape are big strong men. A little storm isn’t going to do them any harm,” Agnes soothed the girl while exchanging a worried look with Elsie over the child’s head.
“Oh, thank goodness. At last,” Elsie exclaimed as the outside mudroom door slammed in the wind and the hollow sound of boots echoed on the wooden floor.
Moments later Ike and Walter shoved through the inner door.
“Pape, you look like a snowman!” Anna clapped her hands and laughed. “You too, Opa. It looks like fun. Can I go out and play in the snow?” She turned hopeful eyes on her mother.
“The wind would carry you away, Anna. Feel how cold it is.” Walter drew off his thick knitted mitt and put his hand on her cheek. Snow dripped from the wool in his hand.
“Pape!” Anna shrieked and wriggled away from him.
“Anna, hush. You’ll wake the twins,” Agnes scolded her while hiding a smile.
Elsie went to help Ike out of his coat. The thing weighed three times what it should with the coating of snow. She hung it to dry near the stove and put the mitts of both men on the wire trees especially constructed for that purpose. Wrapping her sweater tighter around her Elsie scurried out to the mudroom to retrieve the frozen boots the men had stepped out of. Setting them on the drip pan near the stove she turned and gestured for Ike to remove his socks. The tops were frozen solid to his pant legs, small rivulets of melt water beginning to trickle down the material.
Agnes was busy doing the same for her husband. Anna watched in fascination as the storm’s detritus became small puddles. At a word from her mother, she ran and got the men’s slippers from the living room. By the time she came back Ike and Walter had coffee in front of them and were digging into the oatmeal pancakes swimming in syrup.
Elsie pulled the wet woolen stockings over the tall wire frames and placed them beside the drying mitts.
Anna stayed curled in her chair looking pleased to be included with the grown-ups. Before long her head began to nod and Agnes took her up to bed. Once she returned, the talk turned more serious.
“It’s going to be a long night I’m afraid,” Ike remarked with a pointed look at his son-in-law.
“What do you mean, Pape?” Agnes looked from one man to the other.
“With that wind and the amount of snow coming down, those paths aren’t going to stay clear for long. One, or both of us, is going to have to go out every hour or so and keep clearing them,” Walter replied.
“Pape?” Agnes looked to her father for confirmation.
“It’s as Walter says.” He got to his feet. “Let’s set things right for the night here and get some sleep while we can,” Ike said.
* * *
All through the night and into the next day the storm raged unabated. In the brief interludes when the radio would produce more than squawks and whistles they got news of the width and breadth of the blizzard.
“It doesn’t seem possible that it’s storming all the way from here to Alberta,” Agnes declared.
“Maybe we heard wrong?” Elsie wondered.
“I don’t know about that, Elsie. I’ve never seen anything like this blizzard.” Ike shook his head.
“Has anyone been able to get through on the phone?” Walter asked glancing at the silent instrument.
‘Not since I talked to Helen yesterday. The line went dead right in the middle of the conversation,” Elsie replied.
“Line is probably down.” Ike scratched his head.
The lines of fatigue and worry etched on his handsome face worried Elsie. He and Walt were going non-stop trying to keep the path to the woodshed and the barn open. Agnes and Elsie talked about how to help when the men went out again into the teeth of the blizzard. The path they were clearing followed the fence line so at least there was little chance of going astray. The sides of the narrow alley were up to the men’s shoulders now. How much deeper can it get? Elsie worried.
Ike and Walter stumbled in the door, crusted in snow, ice coating their eyelashes and Ike’s mustache. White patches of frostbite covered both their noses and spread across their cheeks.
“That’s enough, Ike. You can’t keep going out there.” Elsie planted her hands on her hips and stared down at her exhausted husband slumped in the kitchen chair. “You’re too done in to even take off your coat. It’s time you let Agnes and I get out there and help.” She raised a hand to forestall his attempt to argue. “We’ve talked about it, and there’s no reason we can’t take it in turns to clear the snow.”
“Elsie, I’m too bone-tired to argue with you right now.” He got to his feet and shed his outer clothes before staggering off upstairs to fall into bed. Walter followed him up the stairs leaning heavily on the railing as he went. Agnes went after them armed with bed warmers and hot water bottles. When she came back down, she sank into a chair across from Elsie.
“I’m really worried, Mome. How long can we go on like this?” She rubbed a hand across her forehead. “They’re both about wore out, and the snow just keeps coming.” An especially hard gust of wind slammed the upper story of the building. It was a small mercy the drifted snow protected the lower floor. A small mercy, Elsie grimaced, protected yes, but so much snow piled against the house was frightening. She worried the pressure of the building snow would break the windows. The front door was firmly blocked now, the only way in and out of the house was by the mud room door which was in the lee of the building.
“Mome, I’ve been thinking. There must be something we can do to keep the darn snow from blowing down into the pathways.” Agnes frowned and tapped her fingers on the table top.
“I don’t know how.” Elsie finished clearing the table before filling two mugs with coffee and joining her eldest daughter.
“There has to be a better way than what we’re doing,” Agnes insisted. “At least with the trenches getting so deep we have some protection from the wind, but it won’t last long with the way the snow keeps drifting.”