The weather stayed nice till Christmas that year. I dug Lignite coal from an outcrop on the side of a coulee for fuel and plastered my sod house inside and out with clay dug from the well. I put flooring in it and as I had nothing else to do, I scrubbed it every other day and took out my bedding to air every morning. For music I stretched some brass wire on my home made bench and on this rude instrument I played little tunes. I even made verses to a tune I liked, a love song to my absent wife. I had time to read too. My swedish language paper came in the mail. I had some "Western Stories", and books that I borrowed from my neighbor. So I passed the time.

My food consisted of white beans I had brought with me, half a half a pig I bought and home-made bread. So I had beans and pork for dinner and supper. For breakfast I had toast and oatmeal or perhaps mush, as a kind neighbour kept me supplied with millk. For dessert I cooked dried apples and always there was coffee. I never tired of this somewhat monotonous diet.

Baking did not really come natural to me, but I had watched my wife do it often,so was sure I could learn too. At my first attempt I made the dough in the evening, with the old style Royal Crown Yeast, then put it on top of the cupboard I had made with odds and ends of lumber, where the pan just fitted under the half inch board ceiling. In the morning I was suprised to see daylight through a long crack in the eaves, For the dough had risen and lifted ip the roof, so I got the pan out of there before it did more damage.

-August Dahlman, 1908, Estevan

Created by Autumn P. December 11, 2007