minute.

Once a family near us by the name of Bonetrigger lived for four days on
cottonwood buds or wood browse as it was called.

We drove forty-five miles to Mankato to get our first baby clothes. When
we got in our first crop of wheat, I used to stand in the door and watch
it wave as the wind blew over it and think I had never seen anything so
beautiful. Even the howling of the wolves around our cabin did not keep
us awake at at night. We were too tired and too used to them. The years
flew by. I had three children under five when my husband enlisted. I was
willing, but oh, so sad! He had only three days to help us before
joining his company. Our wood lot was near, so near I could hear the
sound of his ax as he cut down all the wood he could and cut it into
lengths for our winter fuel. You can imagine how the sound of that ax
made me feel, although I was willing he should go. When he was gone, I
used to put the children on the ox sled and bring a load of wood home.
Pretty heavy work for a woman who had never seen an ox until she was
married. I was brought up in New York City, but I did this work and
didn't make any fuss about it, either. I did all kinds of farm work in
those days for men's help wasn't to be had, they were all in the war.

When I needed flour, there was no man to take the wheat to mill. The
only one who could, wanted to charge $1.00 a day and I did not have it,
so I left my darlings with a neighbor, got him to hist the sacks aboard
for me, for says I, "I'm not Dutchy enough to lift a sack of grain," and
long before daylight I was beside those oxen on my way to the nearest
grist mill, fifteen miles away, knitting all the way. It was tough work,
but I got there. I engaged my lodging at the hotel and then went to the
mill. There were a number there, but they were all men. The miller, Mr.
Goodnow, said "It's take turns here, but I won't have it said that a
'soldier's widow' (as they called us) has to wait for men, so I'll grind
yours first and you can start for home at sunup, so you can get home by
dark; I want you to stay at our house tonight." After some demurring,
for I wan't no hand to stay where I couldn't pay, I accepted his most
kind invitation. In the morning, when he saw me start, after he had
loaded my sacks of flour on for me, he said, "Get the man living this
side of that big hill to put you down it." I said, "I came up alone,
alright." He said, "Woman, you had grain then, you could have save