Saskatchewan
Site of Percy Haverfield’s homestead, near Lonesome Butte, Saskatchewan. This land is now in the East Block of Grasslands National Park. Photo by Gary Ball.
Caragana windbreak.
When they finally arrived at Elizabeth and Alexander Haverfield’s home place, the children would have seen caragana hedges surrounding the yard and a grove of tall poplars growing along the roadside. As on most prairie homesteads, these hedges and trees were planted to act as windbreakers to protect the house and other farm buildings from the harsh prairie winds.
Caragana can withstand the bitter prairie cold and not only acts as a windbreak but traps the winter snow and dust that blows across the prairie; it is also one of the few plants that would survive the coming drought of the 1930s. Across the prairies, homesteaders’ yards can be identified by caragana hedges, those homesteads that were abandoned as well as those that still have descendants farming and ranching on the land a century later. The caragana hedges planted by Alexander and Elizabeth in the early 20th century survive to this day, a hundred years later.
Their grandparents’ farmyard looked different from when Pluma and the children had visited the previous summer, of course—it was early spring and the trees were still bare of leaves. What grass that could be seen was covered with crusty snow and golden colored—this was no different than what they were familiar with in North Dakota at this time of year but in a child’s mind, the expectation is that a particular place has a particular look about it and it was a surprise to them that there were no leaves on the trees and they couldn’t run in the grass.
Caragana can withstand the bitter prairie cold and not only acts as a windbreak but traps the winter snow and dust that blows across the prairie; it is also one of the few plants that would survive the coming drought of the 1930s. Across the prairies, homesteaders’ yards can be identified by caragana hedges, those homesteads that were abandoned as well as those that still have descendants farming and ranching on the land a century later. The caragana hedges planted by Alexander and Elizabeth in the early 20th century survive to this day, a hundred years later.
Their grandparents’ farmyard looked different from when Pluma and the children had visited the previous summer, of course—it was early spring and the trees were still bare of leaves. What grass that could be seen was covered with crusty snow and golden colored—this was no different than what they were familiar with in North Dakota at this time of year but in a child’s mind, the expectation is that a particular place has a particular look about it and it was a surprise to them that there were no leaves on the trees and they couldn’t run in the grass.
The summer before, the family had taken the train from Williston to Glasgow, Montana and then Joseph, the children’s Papa, had driven the family in a buggy from Glasgow north to his parents’ farm. When they arrived this time, Edna Fern was shy about getting off the hayrack and looked about the yard to see if there were any cows lingering about:
“I knew nothing about farm animals when we arrived there the summer before since I had only lived in towns and while walking among a few cows in the yard, one suddenly pushed me over and started rolling me across the ground with her head. It was just a game to her but of course I was terrified of the huge animal. When I cried out for help, Papa came out of the house and chased the cow away so I thought he was a great hero.”
Now their Papa wasn’t with them and seven-year-old Edna Fern must have wondered who would come to her rescue if she needed help again. All of the children would be nervous having heard what a milk cow had done to their Uncle Percy’s leg.
“I knew nothing about farm animals when we arrived there the summer before since I had only lived in towns and while walking among a few cows in the yard, one suddenly pushed me over and started rolling me across the ground with her head. It was just a game to her but of course I was terrified of the huge animal. When I cried out for help, Papa came out of the house and chased the cow away so I thought he was a great hero.”
Now their Papa wasn’t with them and seven-year-old Edna Fern must have wondered who would come to her rescue if she needed help again. All of the children would be nervous having heard what a milk cow had done to their Uncle Percy’s leg.
Haverfield homestead at Lonesome Butte, Saskatchewan, circa 1931, showing wagon used for hauling water from Rock Creek. L. to r.: Nathan Goodrich, Edna Fern Haverfield, unidentified, Velma Haverfield (?), Lucille Haverfield, Leslie Haverfield (?), Dorothy Haverfield, Elizabeth Meyers (Haverfield).
Elizabeth and Alexander were welcoming to Pluma and the children when they arrived after their long, cold journey from North Dakota. Edna Fern remembered her first impressions: “Grandma Elizabeth was short and wide and wore her grey hair piled high on her head, perhaps to make her look taller, and she had lively black eyes like Papa’s. Grandpa wasn’t much taller than Grandma and had light-colored eyes like Uncle Percy.”
It didn’t take long before they all learned how to get along in their new temporary home. Edna Fern said, “I felt at home when I heard Mother and Grandma talking while they were cooking and sewing and housekeeping, and she referred to Grandma as Mother. My mother hadn’t had a mother for most of her life and it was comforting to feel that there was mutual caring between the two of them.”
Lyman remembered that the only place for Pluma and her four children to set up their beds was in a surveyor’s tent erected upon a wooden platform in the yard. In the bitter cold of the following winter, Pluma and her children were kept warm from the heat of the lignite coals burning in their Monarch cook stove set up inside the tent. They were also kept warm sleeping together in two beds covered by Pluma’s homemade wool-lined quilts. But the tent had no insulation except for a bit of straw underneath the platform to keep the wind from coming up under the floor. They must have felt half-frozen on some January nights.
It didn’t take long before they all learned how to get along in their new temporary home. Edna Fern said, “I felt at home when I heard Mother and Grandma talking while they were cooking and sewing and housekeeping, and she referred to Grandma as Mother. My mother hadn’t had a mother for most of her life and it was comforting to feel that there was mutual caring between the two of them.”
Lyman remembered that the only place for Pluma and her four children to set up their beds was in a surveyor’s tent erected upon a wooden platform in the yard. In the bitter cold of the following winter, Pluma and her children were kept warm from the heat of the lignite coals burning in their Monarch cook stove set up inside the tent. They were also kept warm sleeping together in two beds covered by Pluma’s homemade wool-lined quilts. But the tent had no insulation except for a bit of straw underneath the platform to keep the wind from coming up under the floor. They must have felt half-frozen on some January nights.