The wild strawberries were ripe! Every day the girls were busy picking them in the pasture, the sheep meadow and along the sides of the trail. Fingers and lips were often a rosy red, and sometimes the wagon wheels looked like they were dripping with red blood. Mother made such good things with the berries — strawberry shortcake, strawberry ice cream, jam for pancakes and her good, homemade bread.
Before long, the raspberries along the garden fence were ripe too, as well as the wild ones along the trail. Mother was even filling her canning jars and jelly glasses with their ruby-red sweetness.
One day Mother went farther than usual up along the trail toward the schoolhouse, where she found the very best patch she had ever seen. They were such big, lovely red-ripe berries that the branches bent down with their weight over a dry ditch. She found if she stood down in the shallow ditch, it was most comfortable to not even have to bend over to pick them. Her pail was nearly full when she heard someone coming.
“Oh dear!” she whispered to herself, “who can it be? They must have their eye on this special spot too.”
She picked rapidly for a few more moments, until she heard from the sound of the crackling of branches that she must look up and greet her visitor.
Carefully parting the branches, she smiled politely as she looked up - straight into the face of a big black bear!
For just a moment they stared at one another, almost face-to-face! Then Mother turned and ran down the ditch toward home, while Mr. Bear went crashing back the way he had come.
“We were so close to one another that I could see the saliva drooling from his mouth!” Mother said, laughing as she told the family at the supper table. “His mouth must have been watering at the sight of those big, juicy raspberries!” With great pleasure Mother showed us her pail. She had not spilled a berry, even in her hurry!
One night Peggy Jean startled awake. “My! What was that noise?” Claps of thunder seemed to be shaking the whole woods. During the vivid flashes of lightning, she could see the trees swaying and bending before the wind.
“Mother!” she called, “the rain is blowing in on my bed!”
Father had awakened too and was trying to hurriedly put on his shoes in the dark. Soon he was out in the rain, banging down the big shutters outside the screened windows on the three sides of their big porch where they were sleeping.
“Whew! This is a real storm that’s brewing,” he said as he came stamping in. “The rain is just starting, but it will soon be a downpour. And that wind! Just listen to it. Trees are crashing every few minutes!”
“What about those three big popple trees over that way? They’re right in the path of the wind, and if they fall, they’ll smash our porch roof right in, won’t they?” Naomi asked anxiously.
“Let’s pray and ask the Lord to keep us safe,” Mother encouraged, and together they prayed. Then they quoted a verse they all knew from memory, “I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for Thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety” (Psalm 4:88I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety. (Psalm 4:8)).
Soon the girls were sound asleep again — although the storm was raging.
The next morning, the sun was shining brightly and the birds were singing joyously. Had there really been a storm in the night, or had they dreamed it?
“It seems brighter than usual. Ohhh! Look, everybody! Those three trees we prayed about did fall!” Helen was looking out the screened door.
There was a rush to see, and the family soon stood outdoors around the twisted stumps of the three fallen trees.
“Just look at this!” Father exclaimed. “See the fibers of wood where the trees broke off? Notice how they’re twisted around? These trees started falling toward our house, and the Lord sent a ‘twister’ that made them fall the other way!”
“What a wonderful God we have!” Mother said softly. “Remember how God’s hand kept back the Red Sea so the children of Israel could cross on dry land? That same hand used the wind to turn these trees so that they would not harm us. This is another time the wind obeyed His voice.”
As they sat around the table for breakfast a little later, Father thanked the Lord for His loving care, and everyone said thank-you too in his or her heart.
One day a few days later, Father came hurrying into the house. “My bees are swarming, Lu! Can you come out and help me capture them as soon as I get my bee veil and outfit on?”
Soon Father was dressed in coveralls. The legs were tucked into his winter boots. He wore a funny hat with a wide brim and mosquito netting around the hat and his face, and tied around his neck. His hands were covered with heavy gloves.
Mother followed him out, dressed just as she was. “The bees seem to like me for some reason,” she smiled. “They don’t bother to sting me like they do Father.”
The girls watched from inside the safety of the screened porch. They saw their father bring a ladder to a nearby tree. About twelve feet up, they could see what looked like a long, black beard hanging from a branch. It was swaying slightly, and a few bees seemed to be working in and out.
Breathlessly they watched as Father carefully lifted the whole big bundle away from the tree and lowered it into Mother’s bare hands. A few bees began crawling on her arms and face, but she gently lowered the swarm into the box that Father had ready for them.
The bees soon flew away from Mother to join the others in the box.
“That’s a good job done,” Father said, smiling happily, as he removed his bee clothes. Mother washed her hands and face and arms, wherever the bees had been crawling, for she said the bees felt sticky.
“Saving that hive can mean quite a few pounds of honey for next winter,” Father said.