Summer is over and it’s back to school, but De Smet is no longer a one-room schoolhouse town. Laura’s mind has clearly moved on to other things because this new construction is glossed over shockingly quickly. Two stories!?! Bricks!?! What?!? Laura is focused on old friends and new plans. Turns out singing school is quite the couples’ evening.

Nellie Oleson has gone back East…the people of De Smet are onto her, and all the best men are taken, so she has gone to stay with relatives and mingle with better prospects. A new girl, Florence Wilkins, looks “left out and lonely and shy, as Laura used to feel.” I don’t know when our Laura ever really felt that way for very long. That one day when no one came to take her sleigh-riding? On the way to school at beginning of term, when she usually (re)made friends before the first bell?  Certainly she’s always been deeply uncomfortable with strangers, but she’s also always had the ability to quickly turn them to friends, as she does here. Florence is also preparing to teach school, and it is a credit to both of them that this makes them allies and not rivals. Florence is no Nellie Oleson.

Friday night. Almanzo and Barnum are right on time, and Laura is ready with brown poplin on. Almanzo warns that they have to leave a little early since Barnum gets skittish around crowds. Laura makes clear that she is with him. “When you think it is time, just leave, and I will come.” I’m always confused by the need to plan, because this is so clearly a date that I want them to be sitting together, but Clewett sorts them by voice and of course Laura’s place is with the sopranos. The first night of singing school involves a lot of theory and scales, all of which I would have thought Laura already knew, but the only thing she ever admits to expertise in is singing in rounds, and that not in this chapter. She enjoys herself, but is always aware of Almanzo, watching for a sign. [Girl, he’s been giving you signs for months now! So glad you’ve started paying attention!]

As they slip out the door, Almanzo says that she needs to get in the buggy first while he unties Barnum, and they both know she will probably have to hold him while he rears and runs. Laura is startled—but up for it—and takes the reins. Barnum rears, and they are off. She has to drive him around the church three times before he is willing to stop for Almanzo to get in, and each time, there is the open prairie before them. If Barnum decides to run away, there isn’t much that could stop him. But Laura trusts Almanzo, as he trusts her, and they both trust Barnum, and when at last Almanzo’s hands close on the lines ahead of Laura’s and slide back, she is glad to let him have the reins for a while. The feeling is mutual. And so it is decided.

Here is a man who needs a woman he can drive with. His horses trust her, so he can too, and she has shown at last that she’ll keep circling back till he is by her side. (He’s been doing the same for her for quite a while).  Here is a woman who needs to drive herself sometimes. He trusts her to do that, so she can trust him to let her. Much as she loves and honors Pa, a man like him would never pass her the reins, and now she is ready to share them with a man who already has.  

So there they are, shaking and numb, and they take the long way home, because this is their moment, and they want to make it last.

“I don’t know when I ever saw the stars so bright”.

“In the starlight, in the starlight, let us wander gay and free.”

He drops her off, and tells her what she knows, that he’ll be back Sunday, and she confirms what they both understand. “I will be ready.”

Pa and Ma are waiting up…this is probably as late as Laura’s ever stayed out, singing school was over hours ago, but those crazy kids drove on and on. Ma sighs with relief.

Pa says, “Does that devil horse of Wilder’s drive all right at night?” and Laura knows what he is asking. But it’s ok, and she has made up her mind. “He is really a gentle horse, and he stood so quietly when I got out. I like him.”

She intended to drive Barnum.

The chapter opens with talk of the Fourth of July.  The girls decide that a celebration at home sounds more fun than facing the crowds in town.  With requests for candy and firecrackers, it is decided that Ma and the girls will fix a celebration dinner and the Ingalls will enjoy the holiday at home.  It is obvious that Mary’s absence is weighing on the family and though nothing is said, the thought of a celebration without her makes everyone bit melancholy.

When Pa returns from town with treats for the holiday, he also brings news that Almanzo is breaking a new team, Barnum and Skip.  Laura should be ready to hop in the buggy if she wishes to go riding.  Of course, Ma is hesitant to allow her to go.  ”I do believe he wants to break your neck! And I hope he breaks his own, first”, these shocking words from Caroline give us a hint as to her concern for Laura as well as her disapproval of her daughter’s courting.  But Pa’s reassurance subdues Ma’s uncertainty to which Caroline responds, “Your Pa says it is safe, so it must be.” This statement is rather telling.    Although she may not agree, she takes Charles at his word.  We see her do this many times throughout the books, but, personally, I don’t think she does it out of some Victorian “he’s the man, so he says so” or that she thinks he’s more intelligent or “knows best”.  I think Caroline simply quietly decides which battles are worth a fight.   (Like settling in Dakota Territory for good, so the girls can attend school.)

When Almanzo drives up riding “this circus”, Ma again expresses her disapproval, but after circling the house a few times, Almanzo is able to get the team to slow enough for Laura to jump in.  Thus begins a routine that will be repeated for the next several weeks.  The Sunday afternoon buggy rides all through July and August are highlighted with the excitement of getting the horses to mind, learning to ride with the buggy top in place, and just enough danger to keep Laura interested.  She is confident in Almanzo’s abilities as a horseman, although several times to tries to make herself small on the seat next to him to be clear of his hands.  She does, however, yearn for the chance to drive.  The opportunity arrives one Sunday late in August when Almanzo arrives driving Barnum solo.  He explains that he is teaching him to drive single. Finally, when Laura offers to take the reins and give him a bit of a rest, Almanzo relents.  He coaches her, but it is easy to see that she needs little help.  Barnum responds to how she holds the reins.  “I believe his is really gentle.”  Although people in the town stare as they see her driving, she sees nothing but Barnum.  Laura has always has affection for other horses, but what she experiences in the buggy seat that day is a connection. This was yet another aspect that really made her understand and appreciate Almanzo.

Laura’s approval of Barnum and Skip, do not replace her affection for Prince and Lady.   More than once she longed for the calm, pleasant drives behind the Morgans and wondered aloud, “I am not criticizing these horses, I just wondered if anything is wrong with Prince and Lady.”  After six weeks of working to gentle the new team, Laura grows even more fond of the horses AND their master as evidenced by her quick response when Almanzo mentions that there will be a singing school it town. “I’d like to have you go with me, if you will.” “I would like to, very much.”

Let’s be honest girls, we all would!

Sandra: This chapter is a game-changer. 

Erin: Laura’s hot stock is rising– 

Sandra: Little Bachelorette on the Prairie. 

Erin: — as evidenced by the nameless bachelors who suddenly want to take her out riding. Whatever, they don’t get names. As cool as Laura is able to remain, Almanzo is the only suitor who rates his very own name. 

Sandra: I wonder if this is before or after the kissing games referenced in Pioneer Girl? 

Erin: Laura’s skepticism over the prairie being turned to woodland is understandable, but also a bit chilling. Big foreshadowing here. 

Sandra: I know, right? The tree claim! Ominously: “He said that if trees would grow on those prairies, he thought they would have grown there naturally before now.” 

Erin: I can’t help but think that chokecherries represent our girl Nellie, who is now getting her comeuppance in a tiny shanty and (gasp!) a homestead with only oxen. 

Sandra: We should feel sorry for her the way Laura does, but we don’t. 

Erin: We’ve been carrying this resentment around for Laura. 

Sandra: Love how Laura says “the whole country seemed different to her.” It’s like when the guy takes you over to the next town in his spiffy, shiny Camaro with the faux-fur Playboy seatcovers. Oh, wait … 

Erin: Don’t think of Nellie. DON’T THINK OF NELLIE. 

Sandra: Whoa, Nellie. 

Erin: Laura’s cool demeanor is a sharp contrast to the omg-too-too-ness of Nellie, who is suddenly JUST CHARMED by everything ever.

Sandra: I kind of think Pa is glad for the chance to witness this meeting in the buggy. Good entertainment.

Erin: Oh, my kingdom for a glimpse into Almanzo’s take on all of this.

Sandra: “Is Laura still here?”

Erin: Nellie. You do not know who you are messing with. This is the girl who rocked the desk off its fasteners and who moved a pile of wood indoors by sheer dint of determination.

Sandra: “Almanzo seemed to be enjoying the drive.” Oh, men. Remember Roger and Elaine? 

Erin: Okay, I’m starting to feel bad for Nellie. Who knows what she endured in the intervening years? 

Sandra: Willie’s adolescence? Oh, look. Laura’s practicing the tried-and-true tactic of being the last chick out of the car. 

Erin: Well played, Mrs. Boast! She knows what’s up. 

Sandra: Both the Boasts are so on to her. 

Erin: At least Laura has a sense of humor about the whole thing. 

Sandra: So does Laura the writer: Nellie clutches Almanzo’s arm, “which he very much needed to use just then.” Snicker. 

Erin: OH SNAP! Laura’s feigned apology for making Almanzo go her way is priceless. 

Sandra: Meow! 

Erin: DOUBLE SNAP. Laura won’t go driving if Nellie’s part of the picture. Poor Almanzo. Trying to be nice has now ticked off both women.   

Sandra: Almanzo: “What the frick just happened?” 

Erin: Party fail, Manly. Don’t you know you should never assume a lass will go out with you next Sunday? 

Sandra: We interrupt this catfight to bring you a letter from Mary, who’s having so much fun in Iowa she’d rather summer there than on the clean Dakota prairies. It makes Ma a little woozy, and she even complains for a second, before remembering she’s Ma. 

Erin: The detail of the potatoes getting too brown is just perfect. It suggests Carrie’s hand suspended in mid-air as she waits to hear the horrible news about Mary. 

Sandra: Laura’s bummed mood continues all that Saturday night and into Sunday morning. Interesting: a phrase I’ve never noticed before. “As she rode to church in the wagon she said to herself that she would ride in a wagon all the rest of her life.” Is this the equivalent of resigning oneself to a lifetime in Mom’s minivan? 

Erin: Laura’s resignation is tempered with wild hope. You know it’s serious when you don’t take off your brown poplin. 

Sandra: Right you are! Almanzo is back! And the seat next to him is empty! He does a great job of playing the clueless man, as a clueless man. 

Erin: Oh, Almanzo. You were smacked down, and you know it. 

Sandra: Now we have regular Sunday drives, where the 19th-century horn beeping earns nary a grunt from Pa and a warning to be home on time from Ma. They pick bouquets of roses together. Romance! 

Erin: A buggy full of roses. Bow chicka bow bow. 

Sandra: Then Almanzo—how sweet of him to remember!—surprises our heroine with dear, sweet, merry Ida. The girls gather roses while they may, oohing and aahing over the twin lakes, and, of course, gossiping. Ida’s got her Elmer, and Cap has looked westward for new love, while Mary Power now likes the bank teller. Is it just as easy to laugh in the summertime? 

Erin: Do I detect a tiny bit of jealousy in Laura’s exclamation about Cap? 

Sandra: Oh, SNAP indeed. 

Erin: Oh, CAP? Hmm.  Oh yeah, the drive with Ida. Almanzo is tuned into Laura’s every sigh. Now they’re discussing…the wild thing. Okay, wild things and the pioneer instinct to shoot them dead. SWOON. 

Sandra: Secret eyes behind Ida’s oblivious (but merry) head! I can’t stand it. 

Erin: This secure robe-tucking is just too-too.

These days, many teenage girls treat their mother’s fashion advice with disdain, even contempt; but turn the clock back to 19th century De Smet, and we find our always obedient and sensible Laura realizing that her Ma’s comments about her clothes were right. She really did need a new summer dress for best, but after surrendering her teaching mazuma to help buy the family organ, she was now strapped for cash.

So as quickly as you can say, “Extreme Makeover,” Laura hightails it to Miss Bell’s to ask about a job in her dress making and millinery store in return for yard goods. For Laura, it’s time to get serious about some fashionable threads and we’re not talking about everyday lawn fabric (it’s so 1877, anyway). We’re talking brown poplin…from Chicago no less.

Of course, Miss Bell is happy to give Laura a job and before the school term has ended, she has earned herself ten yards of fabric. With the poplin now in Ma’s capable sewing hands, Laura continues to work at Miss Bell’s so she can afford to pay for the perfect accessory…..a stylish new poke bonnet.

Meanwhile, the activities back at the homestead are taking on a veritable Better Homes and Gardens vibe, with Ma whipping up a new dress for Laura, and Pa constructing an extension to the claim shanty to accommodate the pending arrival of the family organ. You’ve gotta hand it to Charles. While he may have trudged the family through the harsh reality and (let’s face it) frequent heartache of America’s westward expansion, he really came through when stuff needed to be built. Yes, good one, Charles. But let’s face it. It’s the least he could do, given his gentle (shall we say) encouragement of Laura to cough up the cash for the organ.

Although I understand it was common for kids to help out their families back then, I always felt a bit annoyed with Charles for asking Laura to give such a large amount of money. After undertaking some online research, I now know that $75 during Laura’s teenage years would today be worth about $1600. I wonder how many teenagers in 2012 would happily donate that kind of money (if they had it), like Laura did?

When the new sitting room is finished, happiness abounds and interestingly, Ma makes repeated comments about not wanting to call the place a claim shanty any more.  Okay, Ma – we get it! Clearly she is very happy to have a real home finally taking shape.

Eventually, the new organ arrives in all its shiny, musical glory. The family admires its polished walnut scrolls, the crisp black and white keys and fancy levers and pedals. It seems only a minor detail that nobody in the room can play the organ, that is apart from Mary, who is living 400 miles away. Grace couldn’t care less about the organ and is more enamored by the stool that came with it. Sitting on the seat, she twirls herself around until she accidentally comes crashing down. Of course, no adult reader is surprised by this typical childhood behavior, although I personally don’t know if I would have been as tolerant about the incident as Pa was. You see, I’ve never twirled. Honest.

By the time Ma has finished sewing her new dress, Laura has her new, matching poke bonnet and decides to wear the ensemble to church. On Sunday morning, Carrie happily watches Laura get ready and while doing so, makes the comment, “You do have beautiful hair, Laura.” With this, we are immediately taken back to the Big Woods of Wisconsin….to the golden hair/brown hair incident, where a sensitive Laura slaps Mary for saying, “Aunt Lottie likes my hair best.  Golden hair is lots prettier than brown.” The spanking she received for slapping her older sister, coupled with Mary getting off scot-free meant that Laura carried a feeling of injustice about this childhood event most of her life.  Finally here, it seems she gets some come back through the flattering words of her younger sister.

Perhaps as a display of her growing maturity, Laura passes Carrie’s compliment on to her older sibling, stating that her hair wasn’t golden like Mary’s. Laura’s ultimate description of her own lovely tresses in the chapter shows her growing self confidence. So there, Mary!

The description of Laura’s new dress is elaborate. To be honest, I struggled to understand some of the more esoteric details during my first reading of THGY. Luckily though, I was able to see the (almost) real thing for myself at LauraPalooza in 2010, with the lovely Melanie Stringer wearing her own replica of Laura’s brown poplin.

Once Laura is dressed, the family collectively admire her new outfit. Of course, no moment like this is complete without a little of Ma’s wisdom. She tells Laura, “You look very nice, but remember pretty is as pretty does.” With that, the family leave for Sunday’s service.

On such a beautiful day, Laura doesn’t feel like going to church. Reverend Brown’s sermon seems longer and duller than usual. She wishes there could be more to enjoy than simply going to Church and back home again. After returning to the homestead, Laura decides to stay in her new clothes and finds herself wandering restlessly around the house. Is she secretly hoping for a visit from Manly?

It isn’t long before Laura sees a shiny new buggy dashing out on the road toward the Big Slough. It’s Manly at the reins. He bulls the rig to a stop at the Ingalls homestead and asks if she’d like to go on a buggy ride. It’s just as well she didn’t change her dress!

The new buggy is beautiful and Laura comments about the low, lazy-back seat, which is a new experience for her. It isn’t long before Almanzo pulls a move that is very open to interpretation. Perhaps he was trying to be helpful (it was a new type of seat after all), or maybe it was something more affectionate – but Almanzo putting his arm around the top of the buggy seat was not a welcome gesture for Laura. She responds by leaning forward and deliberately shaking the buggy whip, which makes the horses bolt and Manly moves his hands back to the reins.

Poor Manly! Irrespective of his motives for the “arm on the buggy seat” move, he was always a gentleman to Laura. Either way, he was just trying to be nice! Clearly, he was going to have his work cut out in winning Laura’s affections. Oh, but poor Laura! She is completely clueless when it comes to men. She is nervous and let’s face it, who wouldn’t blame her? Manly was more than a few years her senior.

Luckily, our always brave and strong, Manly perseveres. Following some gentle admonishment about the buggy whip, he asks Laura, “You’re independent, aren’t you?” Instead of being turned off by her positive response, he seems to appreciate her self reliance (which is clearly needed for any pioneer woman worth their salt) and starts to open up to her about his plans for the future.

Arriving back to the homestead at sunset, Laura shyly (and somewhat indirectly) agrees to another buggy ride next Sunday.

Oh boy, we know this is going to be good!

After spending another cautious winter in town, Pa is offered the job of heading up the building of the Perry School and wants to move back to the claim as the school will be built not far from the claim. A little bit of me always admired that Ma could just up and move with just a day’s notice without as much as a whimper.

Laura is also offered a job teaching at the Perry School when it’s complete. That is, if she passes the teachers’ examinations, which she does, of course, with a Second Grade certificate. And then Pa gives her the happy news that he’s been saving and Laura finds out that she will be paid the richly sum of twenty-five dollars a month for three months.

Which brings on my favorite passage in the chapter:

Grace’s blue eyes were perfectly round. In solemn awe she said, “Laura will be rich.”

Grace doesn’t play a very big role in the books, but as the youngest in my own family I always felt a kinship with her.

So begins Laura’s second term teaching school. This one all gleaming and brand new with only three students the whole term. Laura felt guilty about earning so much money, but Pa assured her that the large schools were paying thirty dollars a month and those three children were entitled to the same schooling as a dozen would receive. Laura made sure to give them the very best instruction.

What a wonderful spring it was! Walking through the  fresh, sweet mornings with the scent of violets in the air, (a wonderful way to start and finish each work day!), Laura makes her way to the school each day.  Teaching her happy, good little students who were eager to learn and keeping up with her own studying  made for cheerful days.

When Pa asked what Laura planned to do with the money she would be earning, naturally Laura replied that she would give it to Ma and Pa. Pa proposes that they use it to buy an organ for when Mary comes home. Isn’t it wonderful that the family is in such a position that they can afford to make such a purchase?

Pa decides that this calls for a musical celebration…with just the fiddle for now.

Golden years are passing by,
Happy, happy golden years,
Passing on the wings of time,
These happy golden years.
Call them back as they go by,
Sweet their memories are,
Oh, improve them as they fly,
These happy golden years.

Laura’s heart ached as the music floated away and was gone in the spring night under the stars.

It’s fall again, my favorite season both in LIW books and out of them, and the Ingalls’ prepare for the annual move back to their building in town.  I am always amazed at how Ma is able to easily pack up the house and move with just a day or two of notice-she is as always the quintessential pioneer wife and mother!  The students are coming back to school, although some of the familiar faces are not among them.  The older boys are starting to work and no longer have time for classes, but the school is still overfull.  No wonder Pa’s “wandering foot is getting to itching” in such a thickly settled country…suburban America would be absolute torture for Pa!

Laura and Carrie arrive home from school to find company has come.  At first Laura is unsure who the woman is in their front room, but then the woman smiles and she recognizes her as Cousin Alice, who had come with cousins Ella and Peter to make snow “pictures” the year Laura received her doll Charlotte for Christmas in the Big Woods.  Alice was married now, and her husband was brother to Ella’s husband; which always seemed a little strange to me until I looked up the history of Alice and Ella’s family and found out that they were actually “double cousins” of the Ingalls children.  Their mother was Ma’s sister, and their father was Pa’s brother.  I guess the practice of several people in the same family marrying people from another single family was fairly common in those times.  Alice reminds Laura so much of Mary that Laura is excited to spend time with Alice everyday after school and into the evening, although Alice’s husband Arthur must have been rather reserved since Laura felt “he always seemed a stranger”.  I can imagine the reminder of Mary was probably bittersweet for Laura, as Mary had so recently returned to college after her summer visit.  Ma wishes the family could all be together again, but Alice assures them Grandma and Grandpa seem content to stay in the Big Woods while the rest of the family moves west.

Cousin Alice and Arthur leave on a chilly, snowy day that Laura describes as “wonderful sleighing weather”.  Sadly the sleighing parties of last year are no more because the boys are busy working.  Laura notices Cap Garland and Almanzo breaking a pair of wild colts to drive, and Pa remarks on the risks of working with the horses.  Laura considers how the whole town had benefited from Cap and Almanzo’s willingness to take chances when they found the wheat during the Long Winter, and it seems like she admires that courage (it doesn’t hurt that they are both handsome guys too).  Suddenly Cap is at the door with his “flashing grin” (I always imagine him as a young Matt Damon with lighter hair…) asking Laura to go for a sleigh ride-what to do, this isn’t the guy Laura is interested in, and what about Mary Power?!  All is quickly resolved when Cap reveals himself as Almanzo’s messenger.  Laura will get to sleigh ride with her Manly after all this winter!  

Almanzo and the jumpy colts pull up to the door and Laura makes it into the cutter before the horses speed off down the road.  Most people are afraid of these horses, but Laura has always been brave!  I can just imagine her riding along with a smile, wind blowing in her face, remembering riding black ponies with her Cousin Lena long ago.  It’s Almanzo’s turn to be impressed with her fearlessness, and Laura assures him she has confidence in his driving skills (way to stroke his ego just a little Laura, Nellie would never be so smooth).  When Laura learns that Almanzo is breaking these colts to sell she laughingly tells him she is glad to help teach them to be good driving horses-hint, hint.  They pass the rest of the afternoon without much talk as the colts alternate between running and moving along quietly.  The Sunday drives that will become Laura and Almanzo’s form of dating have begun…I guess there wasn’t much else to do that constituted a date back then, and definitely few places unmarried couples could be alone together without causing a scandal.

Laura comes home from the ride with shining eyes, and while Ma worries about her riding behind such wild horses, Pa notices that Laura’s interest is definitely in more than just horses, but he doesn’t seem worried about that at all!  I guess as far as guys go, Almanzo was a pretty good catch considering he had a hand in saving the lives of everyone in town.

At the church Christmas tree that year (oh how I wish I could be transported back in time to see one of those church Christmas trees) Laura receives a mysterious package with unfamiliar writing on it containing a black leather case with an ivory-backed hairbrush and comb inside.  Who could have given her such a beautiful gift?  Pa knows!  His eyes twinkle and he smiles as he watches the surprised recognition on Laura’s face, was Almanzo her *gulp* beau?

Has there been a chapter in the entire series more full of unblemished
happiness than this one?  Laura has made it home from the bare McKee
claim.  The Ingalls homestead is thriving, with a vegetable garden,
milk cows, a huge flock of chickens, and more kittens than (now
Grandma!) Kitty knows what to do with.

Then Mary makes her grand entrance after traveling home alone by
train, her first visit from college.  She moves confidently around the
house!  She doles out beaded gifts she made herself!  She tells
stories of playing pranks on unsuspecting store clerks?  Who is
this girl and what has she done with the prim girl sitting unrumpled
on the wagon seat?  She also shares that she is able to read and write
in Braille, recognizing old Bible verses Ma had her memorize as a girl
and mailing letters to friends and teachers.  Surely all the family
must feel as Laura felt: “All that it had cost to send Mary to college
was more than repaid by seeing her so gay and confident.”

After years of want and scrimping, the Ingalls family seems to be
living a life of luxury.  Fresh milk, butter, eggs!  Am I the only one
salivating over Mary’s welcome home dinner: “It was a happy family,
all together again, as they ate of the browned hashed potatoes,
poached fresh eggs and delicious biscuits with Ma’s good butter.  Pa
and Ma drank their fragrant tea, but Mary drank milk with the other
girls.”  Not two winters ago this same family nearly starved to death,
so it’s great to see them feasting so richly.  Surely this is the
beginning of a wonderful summer!

Guest post by Naomi

Laura has been home for all of about 6 weeks, still reveling in the joy of being home, when she is given the opportunity to leave again.

When Laura arrives home from school one day, Ma tells her Mrs. McKee, for whom she’s been sewing for the past month, had stopped by and is ‘in distress.’  The McKee’s are getting ready to move out to their claim, or rather, the women-folk of the McKee family are getting ready to move out to their claim.  Mr. McKee must stay in town to work, (he can’t afford to give up his job) while his wife and daughter go live on the claim to ‘hold it’ through the summer.  But Mrs. McKee is nervous about living far from town, alone, and thought that maybe Laura would come with her.  The McKee’s will pay Laura a dollar a week, just to live there. And Laura, eager for the chance to go on earning money, even a dollar a week, jumps at the chance.  At least she knows that Mrs. McKee won’t attack her with a knife. (Though … by the end of summer, maybe she will …)

So, the next day, satchel in hand, she climbs onto the train for the 7 mile journey to Manchester. Remembering her trip from Walnut Grove to Tracy a few years before, she thinks herself quite the experienced traveler.  From there, it’s two miles by teamster wagon, through sloughs and over non-existent roads, clinging to the McKee Family Furniture and the McKee Family Daughter, to the McKee Family Claim, where a very-little house has been built.

There, once the furniture is set-up, Laura and the McKee’s settle in to hold the claim.  They sit.  They eat. They talk. They are silent.  They sit.  They wash the dishes. They sit.  They twist hay for the stove. They sit. On Saturday, Mr. McKee arrives by train, and they get to spend Sunday sitting some more, not smiling, talking about religion.  On Sunday he gets back on the train and they go back to … sitting. Kinda like the Long Winter, but without the blizzards.

This scintillating existence continues for a couple of months, when at last a letter comes from Ma. Mary is coming home.  Laura must come home too. As much as she hates to do it, she has to tell the McKee’s that she’s leaving; she can’t even give them 2 weeks notice. And thankfully the McKee’s agree that she can go.  Packing her satchel again, she returns with Mr. McKee on the Sunday train, leaving Mrs. McKee and Mattie to sit for another 5 months while she returns to the bosom of her family.

Now – if you’ve been reading my comments for a while, you’ve noticed that I’m something of a nitpicker. I want things to make sense.  And this chapter has always been one of the most baffling to me.

I get that the McKee’s have to live on the claim to hold it.  But what I don’t get is the ‘doing nothing’ part.  They can’t afford to buy the full range of stock and tools and seed wheat to start the farm going – fair enough. But they can’t afford a few packets of seed and a hoe to start a garden?  A cow?   A few chickens?  Do they own no books? Even Laura didn’t bring her own school books with her.  Why not?  Why not tutor Mattie? (The book is vague on her age, but in real life she was 11. Surely Laura could have given her lessons.) Are there no other claims in the area with people to visit?  Even a stroll into Manchester would have broken the monotony.  Maybe Mrs. McKee could find someone who needs some dress-making done.  Other historical sources I’ve seen suggest that in most families, the reverse was true – Pa stayed in town to work while Ma and the kids worked very hard indeed on the claim, plowing, planting, caring for the stock – all the usual farm chores. (Maybe this goes back to Ma’s belief , stated back in “The Long Winter,” that American girls didn’t do farm work? Though obviously that belief didn’t extend to gardening and caring for stock.)

The financial end of things also seems shaky.  They didn’t earn enough to move to the claim. (Presumably they made just enough to build the house and dig a well.)   But it doesn’t seem likely that they’ll be any better off, financially, come October.  What with paying Laura to live with them, buying food (I’d guess that they’re living on the standard flour/beans/potatoes/salt-pork/coffee rations of all self-respecting homestead families), paying Mr. McKee’s rail fare back and forth every weekend, (rail fares were not cheap – in 1881 a fare on the Union Pacific from Council Bluffs to Omaha [about 5 miles], was 50 cents, from Omaha to San Francisco was $100, so it was probably costing Mr. McKee 75 cents to a $1 round trip to come home every weekend) –paying his board in town (they took the stove with them, so even if Mr. McKee is living in their town house, he’s probably eating at the hotel) – if Mr. McKee is making the standard dollar a day – they’re barely breaking even. When they return to town in the fall, I fear that Mrs. McKee will find that Miss Bell has grabbed all her dressmaking clients, leaving them even worse off than before.

One final historical note: Manchester, the new little town near the McKee’s claim stayed a ‘very little town’ through its history.  When Grace grew up and married, she moved to Manchester. Mary lived with her there for a while as well. And in June 2003, a huge tornado swept through the town, destroying it completely.  All that remains are foundations and a commemorative monument.

I apologize in advance, but I have some confessions to make.

Confession the First: There are some bits of Little House that I always thought the series could do without. Prime example: “Springtime.” This is the one chapter in this book that manages to both greatly delight me and, well, bore me to tears as no other chapter in the whole series does. Let me ‘splain.

The good stuff: this chapter starts out with Laura and her best buddies sharing a moment while walking home from school. They speak of the near future, of the end of the school term, and even touch on—ooo!—the topic of hanging out with guys. Totally something most girls could relate to, right? Love it.

Then we meet Uncle Tom, Ma’s brother, who relates news of the family. Coming from a very large family myself, I always loved this part. As a reader and a fan, I really look forward to any chapters that brought back the relatives, as I often wondered about their parallel lives. Plus it’s always fun revisiting past characters. Bonus—later on, he works nicely as a foil to see some of Almanzo’s truly romantic interest in Laura. Love it more!

The end of this chapter has one of my favorite scenes in the entire series. Love the buggy ride, Almanzo’s bit of jealousy, the camaraderie of Laura, Mary, Cap, and Almanzo, the general light-heartedness of the whole scene, and for me, one of the most succinctly descriptive lines of the series: “It was so easy to laugh in the springtime.” But then, this brings me to…

…Confession the Second. In the {mumble-mumble} years that I’ve been reading the Little House books, I have always read “Springtime” in the following order:

1)    Everything up to “Mercy on us!” Ma softly exclaimed. “Do tell us all about it.”

2)    Then maybe—maybe—every 42^nd word until: Laura thought: “All this happened to Uncle Tom while we were living on Plum Creek.”

3)    From that point on through to the end of the chapter.

Yup, NO exaggeration. Prior to this assignment, I only ever read about one-third to one-half of this chapter. Ever. Which now brings me to Confession the Third. When I volunteered to do a read-along chapter, I was reeeeally kinda hoping to not get this one. Which, of course I did. Nuts.

Okay, well, so as not to embarrass myself—more than I already am here, that is—I reread the chapter. I mean, I really, really read it. I read it with an open mind, truly hoping to find a whole new world, maybe some previously-undiscovered nuggets of Laura-lore.

No joy. It was not as interesting as I’d hoped and it still took me three tries to really get through the whole chapter.

Luckily, my attention span has matured more than my writing style, so off to the Internets I go, to see if I can find anything snazzy and true about Uncle Tom’s narrative. And mercy on us! Uncle Tom really did have quite the adventure! Who knew?

Okay, maybe everyone else did, but please don’t judge. Being from the Golden State, I had to take California history in the 4^th grade, South Dakota history was never a curriculum option for me. So, for those who did not have to learn the history South Dakota, here’s the short version: Due to a treaty between the U.S. and the local tribes-peoples, that part of the Dakota territories was originally earmarked as Native American-owned land. However, when General Custer came through that area, gold was found, the news and amount of which was apparently highly exaggerated by a journalist traveling in General Custer’s party. Thus began a great gold rush. Now here’s where it gets a bit interesting. According to History of Dakota Territory, Volume 1, by George Washington Kingsbury, the gold-seeking Gordon-Witcher party—the party with which Uncle Tom Quiner was traveling—actually was one of the first Caucasian, non-military groups to set foot in that region. But they did so illegally and they knew it! Oh myyy!

The only female member of the party, Mrs. Annie D. Tallent, later published a memoir of this expedition in 1899, in which she describes the secrecy with which they carried out their journey preparations and the routes they took in order to best avoid observation by the U.S. military. Naughty Uncle Tom et al!

When I thoroughly read this chapter, initially I agreed with Pa and got all riled-up on behalf of what sounded like horribly unfair treatment of the Gordon-Witcher party. (The soldiers killed the oxen, for cryin’ out loud! Why? Were they rifle-totin’, claim-jumping cattle?!?) Emotionally, I was pacing back and forth in front of the fire and waving my fist along with Pa. Even when Uncle Tom admits, “It was Indian country…Strictly speaking, we had no right there,” I still found myself feeling indignant, much in the same way I did when the Ingalls were forced to leave their house in Kansas. But after doing my research, I realized that 1) the Gordon-Witcher party fully and consensually pre-meditated their illegal journey for sake of the lure of golden riches and 2) once again, the light placed on any wrong-doing member of “Team Laura” in the Little House series was greatly softened. (I know, a whole other topic for a whole other discussion.) Even in his one line of admission, the party’s guilt-level was unclear. I initially construed the situation to be that they did not know they were in Indian Territory until after the Army got there.

Hence, the research and the truth, a truth that on one level made me a little bit sad. See, once more, digging deeper threw another layer of shadow onto the Little House world, MY Little House world. Maybe it’s good that my seven year-old, Laura-idolizing self never got that.

But then I remember that now I am an adult and that adult says, you know what? I get it. The Ingalls/Quiners/Wilders weren’t saints, any more than any of us are. Just like us, they were decent folks just trying to make it in this life, sometimes having to take risks, sometimes having to decide where to draw lines when the actual lines seem to be on the fuzzy side. As an adult, it’s oddly comforting to know that even that epic, pioneer life sometimes wasn’t as black and white and rosy as a primary school-aged girl needs it to be.

I will say that, surprisingly, I got a great deal of pleasure in (finally) reading the description of the journey provided by Uncle Tom. I especially enjoyed his description of the Bad Lands, that “heathenish place” where “those tall things seemed to turn as you went by.” Naturally, I found it very similar to Laura’s style of description, as when she is seeing aloud for Mary, and I found that familiarity delightful as well.

Which brings me back to a great part of my love for the Little House series. I love that it’s a fact-based narrative, and although sometimes fictional is always more enjoyable to read than any old history text or even other published narratives. (My apologies to Mr. Kingsbury and Mrs. Tallent.) Thankfully, Laura’s books always manage to draw me back to a time and place about which I am free and able to romanticize away, from the comfort of my 21^st century computer. Yet somehow it still teaches me something new every time. And that is a legacy worth breaking laws—or at least crossing fuzzy lines—for.

The one with Ambition!

I have long thought of this chapter, “East or West, Home is Best” as one of my favorite in all of American literature.  Laura’s style is deceptively simple on the surface, but that hardly means she doesn’t have something substantial to offer.  While chapter 7 of The Red Badge of Courage may be the subject of thousands of English majors’ literary analysis papers, there is plenty of material in THGY to work with, and as much as I admire Stephen Crane’s masterpiece, I’m still ranking Laura’s right beside him in the top three. Somewhere, Dr. Hinman is gasping as I write this but I insist I have a case.

Of all the vignettes in Laura’s novels, this one chapter is only rivaled by LTOP’s “Sent Home From School” in terms of the sympathetic anticipation which the reader feels.  Stoic little half-grown half-pint Laura has been facing one challenge after another and is all ready for a little respite, when, Oh no!  A composition is due?  Now?  On the first day back to school after boarding in that wretched house for two whole months as she taught her very own first school?  What exactly is a composition anyway?  How does one write a composition when one has no experience writing a composition?  This is serious…though hardly life-threatening.  But Laura is in a tizzy, so it must be really, really, REALLY IMPORTANT that she do it, do it fast, and do it better than any other student or…she will lose her standing as the best student in the class!

Now, I’m willing to bet that most modern readers need to pause for a chuckle here at our favorite, generally obedient and self-sacrificing girl, or, at the very least, will ask, “Why doesn’t she just ask Mr. Owen for an extension?” He already revealed that he knows she’s been teaching for the last two months.  Isn’t that a good enough reason to be missing the assignment? “What’s the big deal?”

Well, yes.  Most of us would do that today, but in Laura’s world, and according to the standards of the time, a person was expected to maintain responsibility for their successes and failures regardless of circumstances.  Or, so we are told.  Immediately I am reminded of Rose’s editing hand, and her politics—nay, Philosophy—as it was by the 1940s might suggest that our favorite heroine is about to encounter another lesson in tenacity, but with a new, single-minded twist.

Communal problems within the family are nothing new to our girl Laura; she has had almost continual experience with them.  But this…well, what can she do?  The reader knows how an Ingalls solves a problem, so at first it seems strange that Laura is panicking. When Pa has no other menfolk around to help to build a house in Kansas, Ma rolls up her sleeves, pins up the skirts, and works like a man alongside her husband to get the job done.  When the problem is achieving a long-term goal, such as “how does the family afford to send Mary to college?” Laura is more than willing to take action, even do a job she doesn’t enjoy, for the greater good of the family.

In fact, this is a lesson all the girls have learned at a very young age.  And even as a very little girl, Laura is never afraid to jump into action (or a dangerously flooded creek) to conquer the situation.  Rather than let her sisters be injured or the house burn, she drags Mary (and Carrie, and the rocking chair) out of the way of an errant burning log. Rather than freeze, she coordinates an effort with Mary to bring the entire woodpile safely inside the house to ward off the storm while Ma and Pa are away.  The job is daunting and getting through the door is difficult with arms full, so even tiny Carrie chimes in with “yes I tan!” to open the door for her big sisters.  This family knows how to pull together in any crisis.

In these cases, Laura did not truly need to assume the entire burden of the situation. Rather, her place has been as a contributing member of the family who will create a solution together. But this…well, what can she do?

Laura is confounded, and momentarily paralyzed.  For the first time, the problem is hers, and hers alone, with no time to seek counsel and very few minutes left to find anything resembling a solution.  The difference lies within Laura’s recognition that SHE is the only one who can affect the outcome in this situation, as it primarily concerns herself.  How will she get through this one unscathed?

Fictional Laura is caught off-guard by an unexpected challenge which, due to her rigid self-imposed standards, threatens to destroy years of diligence in a single afternoon.  She simply cannot conceive of failure.  She would not quit teaching the Brewster school, even with Pa’s permission to do just that.  And she will not give herself permission to fail in her own scholarship.  Laura as an adolescent has created an ideal for herself which seems to be lifted right out of her mother’s playbook…which makes me wonder, have they been reading Emerson in the Little House?

Maintaining fortitude which lives up to the kind of Self-Reliance preached by the Sage of Concord (and possibly Editor Rose) is the apparent goal now. As if inspired by all the great scholars of 19th Century America, Laura, like her beloved-but-difficult-to-please Ma, makes something wonderful out of meager means and a lot of ingenuity.  But when did Laura decide to be this person?  There seems to be little discussion of it, if any.  We have followed Laura’s adventures and missteps through her own eyes, wincing along with her when Ma scolded or Pa counseled her for misbehavior or poor judgment.  Somewhere along the way, she has started to absorb the wisdom of her parents and learn from her mistakes, and has begun to impose her own self-rule, the mark of true maturation.  As Pamela Smith Hill stated, the fictional Laura “can only blossom once,” in the series, so perhaps this chapter is intended to be the internal, psychological equivalent of Laura’s social maturation, wherein her superego begins to really assert itself.

So, after a long and lonely winter term of teaching in her very first school and dreading her time spent boarding at the Brewster house, Teacher Laura gets to trade in her tenuous authority for the much more comfortable and familiar role of Top Student Laura. She is relieved to return to what she now appreciates as the ease of schoolgirl life, and looks forward to continuing her own study in the company of friends. She is joyful at the prospect and her light heart even looks forward to tasks she might ordinarily dislike. Somewhere along the way, the girl who once could have nearly started a riot among the students against Miss Wilder has sailed to the head of the class and she covets–perhaps takes for granted–her position.

Then, during her first day back to school in DeSmet, Laura is horrified to discover (almost too late) that an assignment-a composition on the subject of Ambition-is due after recess. She is suddenly thrown into a panic, assuming her two months’ absence will be no excuse for failing to submit the composition. (I will always wonder how many modern readers immediately think she is foolish for not asking for an extension, or that the teacher is unreasonable to not offer!) She is convinced she will lose her place at the head of the class, and scrambles during the remainder of recess to write something-virtually anything would be better than a grade of zero-and hopes it will not entirely ruin her record.

The reader, of course, should know by this time in the series that no child of Caroline and Charles Ingalls would be at a complete loss for long. In a manner strikingly similar to Ma’s creative cookery with nothing more than blackbirds and flour, or her make-do curtains and lamp-making, Laura manages to summon her every mental resource and lickety-split! she has an idea. Ever thinking on her feet, she scans the room for inspiration and desperately opens the dictionary. In moments, she weaves a few lines together and soon has pulled a composition, however succinct, almost from thin air.

A true perfectionist, Laura presses on and bends the rules a bit by continuing to write even as school is called to order. Dissatisfied, and concerned there was not time enough to look over her work before turning it in, she hopes she has not entirely failed. Her grammar class is called forward, and, sheepishly, Laura offers her scant lines of philosophy colored with a Shakespeare tagline. Emerson (author of Representative Men, which features an essay on Shakespeare) and his Concord pal Bronson Alcott (innovator of modern American education and father to Louisa May) would be SO proud!

Now there is nothing to do but wait for Mr. Owen to scold her. She is certain her work is lacking. She is ashamed at the brevity of the piece and thinks the content may not be sufficient to satisfy the intent of the assignment. As the curious Mr. Owen questions her prior writing experience, she apologizes for her perceived shortcomings, only to discover that her much-admired teacher has nothing but praise for her hastily composed assignment!

Amazingly, the girl who might have starved alongside her entire family, the girl who might have been caught in the midst of a war between settlers and natives in Kansas, the girl who feared for her life just a few days ago while boarding with an dangerously depressed woman wielding a butcher knife, Laura is almost more horrified by the thought of losing her coveted spot at the head of her class in school than she was by any of those very real, and very life-threatening situations.  I can only conclude that Laura has reached that stage of psychological development wherein she has realized that she has the power to create, maintain, and change her own identity, and that her actions will be primary to that end.  Thus, her Ambition in this situation is to maintain that which she has worked hard to achieve, and she has found herself in the uncomfortable situation of having to defend her title at a moment’s notice.  Relying upon herself, and making the best possible use of her proven ability to think on her feet and waste no time, is the only way to succeed.

With one collective sigh of relief, and another job opportunity around the corner, all is once again right in the snug little world of Laura…for now!

Melanie Cynthia Stringer
Historian/Interpreter, Meet Laura Ingalls Wilder
www.meetlauraingallswilder.com