This is where Seth grew up? I thought. This is where I have to stay for two weeks?
“Okay. Everybody out!” said Granny.
The truck had reached the end of a long driveway. Grandad had finished parking. Slowly I climbed out of the truck. I stood by Granny. “Come on inside,” she said. “I’ll show you your room.”
Granny stepped up the rickety porch steps as if they were made of cement. I was afraid to follow her. I was afraid I would fall through the boards. Probably a snake would get me then. (But nothing hapened.)
Granny and Grandad showed me to my room. It was pretty, I guess. But it was HOT. Warm air blew through the open windows. There was no air conditioner. (“Air conditioners are a waste of money,” said Granny.) There was also no clock radio and no night-light.
Downstairs I looked everywhere, but I could not find a TV — or a CD player or even a record player. Just a couple of old radios.
“Where’s the TV?” I asked timidly.
“TV?” Grandad repeated. “Another waste of money. Besides, we don’t have cable. And the reception is rotten here.”
“Does Tia have a TV?”
“Nope. Sorry, honey,” said Grandad.
I did not bother to ask about the CD player or the clock radio.
But I did ask, “Are your telephones cordless?”
Granny laughed. “We’ve just got a regular old phone. It’s been on the wall for years. It’s in the kitchen.”
I knew better than to say, “Just one phone?”
My stomach felt awful. I was surprised Granny and Grandad had electricity. Or bathrooms.
“We’ve got plenty of animals,” Grandad reminded me.
Yeah, I thought. Cows way out in the field. A bunch of pigs and chickens. Even Pearl was a barn cat, an outdoor cat. My only hope was Sheppy. Anyway, all the animals in the world did not make up for a stuffy bedroom without a night-light. And a quiet, rundown house. And only one phone. And especially no TV.
What did Granny and Grandad do at night? What did Tia do? What did they do on rainy days?
Maybe I could talk Granny and Grandad into driving to the store and buying a TV. Also a VCR. And a few movies.
Nah. If Granny thought air conditioners were a waste of money, she would never buy a VCR or movies. She would probably not even rent movies.
Boo.
“I Want to Come Home!”
I was hot and tired, so I took a nap before dinner.
After dinner, Grandad said, “Would you like to call home, Karen?”
“Oh, yes!” I cried. I could not wait to talk to Mommy and Seth. They would get me out of this mess somehow. Anyway, I had promised them I would call that night.
Granny dialed the phone. First she talked to Mommy and Seth. Then Grandad talked to Mommy and Seth and Andrew. Then my grandfather handed me the phone. He stood there. Granny stood next to him. They smiled at me.
I smiled back … but I needed privacy.
“I’m just going to talk out here,” I told them. I ducked into the hallway. Then I saw the coat closet. I pulled the receiver into the closet. I closed the door partway. I turned on the light. There. My very own phone booth.
“Mommy?” I said.
“Hi!” replied Mommy. “I’m right here. Seth’s on, too.”
“How was your plane trip?” asked Seth.
“Fine,” I said quickly. “But I do not like the state of Nebraska at all. Granny and Grandad don’t have a TV or a night-light or a record player or air-conditioning or any-thing. There’s nothing to do here. The animals are no fun and there are no kids to play with and probably there are snakes under the porch. Plus, I miss you. I want to come home!”
“Karen,” said Seth gently, “you haven’t really seen the farm yet, have you?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Well, Granny and Grandad will take you on a tour tomorrow. You have to understand about the farm. You have to understand how Granny and Grandad like to live. Besides, you’ll find plenty of things to do. You can feed the chickens, you can help Granny with her baking —”
“I do not want to do chores,” I whined.
“Maybe you’re a little bit homesick,” suggested Mommy.
“Yes! That’s it. I’m homesick,” I agreed.
“But remember sleepaway camp? You were afraid to go to Camp Mohawk. Then, once you’d been there awhile, you had lots of fun.”
“Kristy was there. I’m all alone here.”
“Give it a chance,” said Mommy. “You have to stay until tomorrow anyway. It’s too late to come home now.”
“Okay-ay,” I sang. “But I thought I’d let you know that I did not even bring the right clothes.” (This was true.) “Grandad is wearing overalls and Granny is wearing jeans. I mostly brought fancy clothes.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow, sweetie,” said Mommy.
“All right.” I said good-bye to Mommy and Seth. Then I walked back into the kitchen and handed the phone to Granny.
“Thank you,” said Granny. “Okay, bed-time.”
“Bedtime! It’s only eight-thirty!” I exclaimed. “I’m not going to be going to school tomorrow.”
“No, but we get up pretty early around here,” Grandad told me.
I did not want to be rude, but I had to ask, “What are you guys going to do now?” (They could not watch TV.)
“Oh, we’re going to bed, too,” said Granny. “Sleep tight.”
The grown-ups were going to bed at eight-thirty? Gosh.
Soon I climbed into the bed in my room. I kicked the covers off. The room was still HOT. I could not fall asleep. I will never fall asleep here, I said to myself.
When the Rooster Crows
I did fall asleep, though. I know that because later on, I heard sounds that woke me up. A rooster was crowing. Sheppy was barking. I could hear pots clanging. And I thought I smelled coffee. But how could that be? Those are morning things — and it was dark outside. I looked at my watch. It read 4:50.
Okay. Maybe Granny and Grandad get up when the rooster crows. But I don’t have to … do I? I wondered.
I decided that maybe I better. I could not go back to sleep anyway.
So I got dressed. I almost put on the pants I had packed. But I put on another fancy dress instead. I did not want to be asked to do chores. I clickety-clacked into the kitchen, wearing my Mary Janes.
Granny and Grandpa were fixing a big breakfast. On the table were toast and fruit and bacon and juice.
“Good morning!” said Granny. Then she added, “I’m sorry, but we will have to make do without milk and eggs this morning. We ran out of a few things. But we will have them later when the milking has been done and the eggs have been collected.” (Granny did not say how nice I looked.)
“Can’t you just buy some milk and eggs?” I asked. “Go to the Seven-Eleven. That’s what we do when we’re out of something. They’re open twenty-four hours, you know. All day and all night.”
Grandad smiled. “That’s a good idea, but the nearest store is almost thirty miles away, where the nearest town is.”
I did not know what to say. I could not imagine living so far from a store. I ate my breakfast quietly. Then I helped to clear the table. I even dried the dishes.
So I was surprised when I heard Granny say to me, “Honey, could you please feed the chickens this morning? I would really appreciate it.”
Feed the chickens? In my party dress? And my best shoes?
“Maybe you should change your clothes,” suggested Granny.
“Okay,” I replied.
I stomped upstairs to my room.
I took off my dress and hung it up. I put my Mary Janes away. Then I pulled on a pair of pants, a shirt, and my sneakers.
“I have to go feed a bunch of chickens now,” I told Goosie.
Goosie stared at me with his button eyes.
“I hate Nebraska,” I added.
Tia
Feeding the chickens was not as bad as I had thought it would be. At least it was so
mething to do. When I was finished, I was bored. And it was only seven o’clock. If I were in Connecticut I would still be in bed.
“Granny?” I said. I was scuffling my feet around the kitchen. I was trying to figure out what to do for the next thirteen and a half hours.
Before I could say any more, Granny interrupted me. “How about a tour of the farm, Karen?” she asked. “You have barely seen it.”
“Sure,” I replied. (If the tour lasted for two hours, then I would only have eleven and a half hours to kill.)
“Good,” said Granny. “Grandad is in the barn. Let’s go find him.”
“Yikes!” I cried as soon as we were outside. “There are four strangers coming up your driveway, Granny.”
“They aren’t strangers,” Granny told me. She waved to the people. They waved back. “They are our hired hands. They help Grandad and me to run the farm. They work here whenever they can. They’re high-school students.”
“Oh.”
“Karen, meet Angela, Frank, Missy, and Wade.”
“Hi,” we said.
“See you later!” called Granny.
Granny and I walked to the barn. We were greeted by a meow.
“Oh, is that Pearl?” I asked.
“Yup,” said Granny. “You can pick her up. She’s friendly.”
“Hi there, Pearl,” I said. I lifted her to my face. She began to purr.
“She likes you,” said Granny.
I was feeling a little better. Guess what happened next. Granny let me climb into the hayloft. I jumped around in the dusty straw.
Then Granny and Grandad showed me the pigs. I was surprised. Pigs are furry. And most of them are not pink.
We stood at the edge of the pasture. The cows ran over to us. I petted four of them.
Grandad showed me the crops that were growing — sugar beets, soybeans, wheat, and oats. He even took me for a ride on the tractor, and he let me steer!
We walked away from the fields. “Come see what’s in this building,” said Granny. “It’s called the brooder house. I think you will be surprised.”
Granny led me into a very warm wooden building.
“Look over here,” she said. “These eggs are being allowed to hatch. Usually we collect the eggs to eat or to sell. But sometimes we need more chickens. The eggs should hatch before you go home.”
“Cool!” I said. But it was hard to believe that fuzzy, fluffy yellow chicks would come out of those hard brown eggs.
“Hi!” called a voice as Granny and Granded and I left the brooder house.
“Hello, Tia!” replied Grandad. “Karen, look who’s here.”
I could not believe that the person standing in front of me was a girl. Her hair was cut very short. She was wearing overalls and a white shirt. And she was holding a boy’s bike.
I knew that Granny and Grandad wanted me to be nice. So I said hello to Tia, too. “Is that your brother’s bike?” I asked her.
Tia shook her head. “Nope. I don’t have any brothers. Or sisters.”
So how come she rode a boy’s bicycle? I decided Tia was weird.
“Well, gotta go,” I said.
I could tell that it was going to be a lo-o-o-ng vacation.
The Vegetable Garden
The next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Granny said, “Karen, do you like to garden?”
“I guess so,” I replied. I had not done much gardening.
“Good,” said Granny. “I’m glad you wore your pants again. I will show you my vegetable garden. I grow all our own vegetables there.”
“Why? Because the Seven-Eleven is so far away?” I asked.
“No. I just enjoy keeping a garden. Come outside with me. You can see how lettuce and beans and carrots grow.”
“Okay.” I followed Granny out the back door. I had learned to jump straight off the porch, away from any snakes. That way I did not have to walk down those steps. (I never went barefoot outdoors.)
“Here it is,” Granny said a few moments later.
We had reached a leafy garden. It was not very big. But by the sign at the end of each neat row, I could see that Granny was growing lots of things. Even corn — and eggplants.
“You’re growing a salad!” I exclaimed.
Granny showed me each kind of plant. Some of them were surprising. Lettuce grows right out of the ground. Carrots are root vegetables. You have to dig them up. You have to dig up potatoes and radishes, too. The eggplants and beans and tomatoes grow on bushes or vines above the ground.
“How do you know when to pull up the carrots?” I asked.
“That’s a good question,” said Granny. “You don’t always know. Sometimes you pull one up and find that it is still very little. But I can show you how to make a good guess.”
That was not the only thing Granny showed me. She showed me how to weed. She showed me how to use her gardening tools. And then she said, “Karen, would you like to be in charge of the garden while you are here?”
“Me?” I cried. “Really? You mean I can take care of the plants?”
“And pick vegetables, too. We can have a fresh salad every night with dinner.”
“A salad right out of my garden,” I said. “Cool. Okay. I will take the job.”
A garden is very exciting, I thought. Granny had pulled an onion out of the ground. She had pulled a pod off a vine and shown me the peas inside. Getting vegetables out of a garden in your own backyard was much more fun than just buying them in the grocery.
Late that afternoon, I went back to the garden. Granny helped me to pick a basket of vegetables. “Not too many,” she said. “Just enough for a salad for three people.”
We picked a head of lettuce, an onion, some beans and tomatoes, and then I pulled up two fat carrots. In the kitchen, Granny and I washed the vegetables. Granny helped me to chop them up. We tossed them in a bowl and added salad dressing.
“You made this dressing yourself, didn’t you?” I said to Granny. “This is not a bottle from a store. Will you show me how to make salad dressing?”
“Yes, tomorrow evening,” Granny promised.
When Grandad came back to the farm-house, he sat at the kitchen table. I had set the table myself. I had even picked flowers and put them in a vase.
Granny let me carry my salad to the table. I put it in front of Grandad. He served the salad. Then he took a bite.
“I think,” he said, “that this is the best salad I have ever tasted.”
I was gigundo happy.
Rain, Rain, Go Away
Two more days went by. Each morning, I worked in the vegetable garden. Each afternoon, I made a salad for supper. In between, I played with Sheppy and Pearl. I fed the chickens. I climbed in the hayloft and read my book. I was not bored for a minute. Also, I never saw a snake. And I decided that going to bed early and getting up early was not bad after all. Anyway, a rooster is a nice alarm clock.
On Thursday morning I woke up to a new sound. Rain. I peered outside. Even in the darkness, I could tell that it was pouring.
“Boo,” I said. “How will I weed the garden today? How will I play with Sheppy? What will I do?”
All morning I tried hard to keep busy. I read. I drew pictures. I worked in my activity books. I helped Granny bake cookies. (Grandad was working in the barn.)
Finally I could not stand it a second longer. “Are you sure no one around here has a TV?” I asked Granny.
“Positive. I’m sorry.”
“But I’m tired of reading and coloring and baking,” I whined.
Granny looked thoughtful. “Would you like to learn how to knit?” she asked.
“Really?” I replied. I had been dying to learn how to knit. Back in Stoneybrook, I watched Nannie knit all the time. “Don’t you think I’m too young?” I asked.
“Nonsense. I learned to knit when I was six,” Granny told me.
“Okay, then. I am ready.”
Granny sat next to me in the living room. She opened a bag. The bag was full of k
nitting needles and balls of yarn. Granny showed me how to hold two needles. She showed me how to loop the yarn around them. Soon she said, “Now you know how to do the knit stitch. That is one of the most important stitches. I think you are ready to make a headband.”
“Already?” I said.
In a very short time I had knitted two headbands. One was red. The other was blue. (Granny worked on a sweater.)
I looked at my headbands. I thought for a moment. I bet, I said to myself, that if I can knit a headband, I can knit a scarf. I kept my thought a secret, though.
Ding-dong!
Goody. Just when I was almost bored again, the doorbell rang.
I ran to see who had come over.
On the front porch stood Tia. Rain was streaming down her poncho.
The Invention Sisters
“Hi, Tia! Come on in!” I cried.
Tia looked surprised. I could not blame her. I had not been very nice when I had met her. And I had not invited her to come over to play.
Now I was glad to see her. Granny and Grandad and Sheppy and Pearl were wonderful. But I missed playing with someone my own age. I decided that I did not mind if Tia looked like a boy.
Tia stepped inside. She took off her poncho. I hung it in the bathroom. (If it dripped into the tub, it would not make a mess.) On my way out of the bathroom, I grabbed a towel. I handed it to Tia.
“Here,” I said. “You need to dry off.”
When Tia was dry, I offered her some cookies. “Granny and I baked them this morning,” I said. “They are quite fresh. I can make salad dressing, too. By the way, what do you do when you get bored on rainy days? Granny said you don’t have a TV.”
Tia shook her head. “Nope.”
We were sitting at the table in the kitchen. Granny had said hello to Tia, but she was still in the living room. She was working on the sweater.
“I never watch TV,” Tia told me. “I do other things.”
“Today,” I said, “I have already baked, read, colored, worked in my activity books, and learned how to knit.” I looked at the clock. “And it is only eleven-thirty.”