When Rose Wilder Lane wrote me about the street of the alchemists in the old city of Prague, it gave me a sense of shock that people, not so very long ago, should have credited anyone with the powers which alchemists were popularly supposed to possess. No wonder the poor things failed to live up to their reputation and were thrown to the wild beasts! It was really too much to demand that they should change common metals into gold.
But I have found an alchemist who is successful in doing what was then attempted in vain. She is just a farm woman like ourselves and would be very much surprised if she were accused of practicing alchemy. But she has a clear right to the title for she is continually transmuting the dross of common things into pure gold, or the most precious things in life.
To her, the every day work is not drudgery but a labor of love, to help the husband who works so hard, to make the dear ones comfortable and happy, to keep the home bright and beautiful outside and in.
Discouragements do not dishearten her because she sees always some advantage, some blessing in them, changing by her magic arts their dark hues to brightness. I bewailed the fact that the freezing weather had killed the fruit, she replied: “Well, we will get a rest from putting up this year and how good it will be next year and how we’ll enjoy working with it. Besides we all have a good supply left over. There are bright spots, let’s look at them!”
Indeed why not enjoy the vacation from the work, instead of making ourselves miserable over the loss! Complaints and wailings don’t help matters and we may as well get joy and happiness out of circumstances as to choose gloom and discontent.
“From a Farm Woman to You”, by Laura Ingalls Wilder, Missouri Ruralist, July 1, 1921