The Serial: Far From the Rowan Tree Day 64

The boards had an ungiving hardness. The undulating earth floor in the tent had been more comfortable

Afew families found their way to the lake on Sunday also but this time, rather to our surprise, instead of staying there until evening they all left in the early afternoon. When the roar of departing cars and trucks died down all was primaeval silence again. “They’re in a hurry today,” Ronald remarked. “Must be because of work tomorrow.”

We had planned to stay another night and return to Edmonton in the morning. Again we gathered sticks and lit a fire on which to cook our evening meal.

Wood smoke went curling up above the trees until suddenly the brushwood leapt into flame.

When the fire died down somewhat, I made two small nests of burning embers. On one I placed the kettle on the other a pan of wieners and beans.

It wasn’t until we were having our evening meal that we heard the rumble of thunder and were aware of black clouds. “Looks as if we might get rain,” said Ronald. “I’m told June is the one month you can be sure of getting it.” Pessimistic “Remember the thunder storm at Sandyhills?” I said. “That was June wasn’t it?”

Ronald chose to ignore that memory. “We’ll be all right. Hopefully the main storm will pass us by.”

Huge raindrops began to fall. “I’ll bet this was why folks scarpered off so quickly,” I said. “They knew this was coming.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” said Ronald. We hurried the children into the tent and got them ready for bed. The thunder sounded nearer and the rain was getting heavier.

Blue zig-zag streaks shot earthward. We saw them through the white walls of the tent. “If you don’t touch the tent the rain won’t come through,” Ronald told the boys.

Mahri-Louise, unperturbed by the thunder, was fast asleep in her pram. Richard and Ronnie thought it was exciting and wanted to watch. Michael wasn’t so sure.

He lay down covering his head with a blanket. The rain was really lashing down now and it was dark – very dark. I kept the torch on to give us some light.

All of a sudden the tent flap opened and I saw in the torchlight a face – the severe face of Tanya Stevannuk, wet grey hair sticking to the sides of her gaunt and wrinkled cheeks.

“Sure is some storm,” she said. “You folks better come on inside for the night. Bring your bedding with you but wait till we get a lull in the rain.”

With that she vanished as quickly as she had come. We collected everything together, waited until the rain eased a little and made a dash for it.

Everyone was carrying something. Ronald was pushing the pram over the rough ground but still Mahri Louise didn’t waken.

Tanya had changed into dry clothes and was waiting for us.

She showed us into a large room panelled in wood. The room had no furniture or carpet. The boys lay down on the floor and I covered them with the now damp blankets.

With all the movement Mahri had wakened. We lay down taking her beside us.

I won’t say it was the most comfortable night we ever spent. Practical The boards had an ungiving hardness. The undulating earth floor in the tent had been more comfortable.

Mahri was restless for quite some time and I, with a new baby on the way, had a feeling of nausea but we were grateful to be out of the storm.

We had been told that Ukranians were hard people to deal with in business but when people were in real difficulties could be helpful in a practical way. This we were finding out for ourselves. Next morning the sun was shining as if it had never shone before.

Every blade of grass, every leaf had its own personal clear pearl of water clinging to it – a tiny crystal ball for the sun to dance on.

Tanya had given us breakfast before we returned to the tent – coffee and home-baked bread and saskatoon jam. Back at the tent we found everything soaking.

We all walked about in bare feet – shoes would have been soaked through in a very short time. We had to get packed up as soon as possible as Ronald had a customer to meet in the early afternoon back in Edmonton.

I packed things into the car. On the way out from the lake we passed Stevannuk. Ronald rolled down the window.

“Thanks for everything,” we said.” We’ll be back next week.”

“You folks’ll sure be lucky if you get out that road today,” he said. “We’ll try,” said Ronald. “We must get back. I’ve an appointment to keep later today.”

The road had looked smooth and dusty when we arrived and we knew there were several miles of it before we got on to the proper gravel road.

Stevannuk was right. To begin with we slithered and slid along in the mud.

If it had remained level land all the way we might have managed to get out but it went down a steep slope shortly after we left. Expert Ronald stopped the car. “You’re never going to make it,” I said pessimistically.

“We might manage to slither to the bottom in that sea of mud but we’re never going to get up the other side.”

For once Ronald, an expert driver, listened. “I guess you’re right,” he said.

We turned and while doing so almost landed in the ditch. We slithered and slipped our way back. Glug Glug was still there with a knowing grin on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you guys?” he said. “You’ll have to wait till it dries up. No way can you get out unless you hoof it.”

I had brought enough food to last for a few days as we had been warned this might happen. We just didn’t want to believe it.

Ronald erected the tent again then took the boys fishing while Mahri and I lay in the bright sunlight and fell asleep to the noisy quarrelling of grackles.

Next morning we woke to a heavy dew. Barefeet again was the order of the morning. Again the sun leapt off a million tiny crystals.

Soon after I dressed, Tanya appeared carrying a huge plateful of hot scones. (More tomorrow.)