Árdís - 01.01.1964, Blaðsíða 40

38
ÁRDÍ S
Helga's Slippers
JOHANNA S. THORVARDSON
Spring had come again to the little pioneer settlement along
the river. All the young things were happy as they frolicked
among their own kind. Some of the lambs bleated in a complaining
fashion as if protesting against the strangeness of their mothers’
newly-sheared bodies. A colt wobbled unsteadily on its long legs
following its mother as she grazed.
Helga ran happily down the slope leading to the river where
her mother was washing wool. A makeshift fireplace of stones
encased the fire that heated the water. Helga watched as her
mother lifted the wool from the hot water into a basket, then
carried it to the bridge where it would be rinsed.
Maria looked at her little flaxen-haired daughter and felt
some of the weariness leave her body. “Mamma, I have something
for you,” said Helga as she put her hand in her pinafore pocket.
“Sigga gave me two peppermints, and I kept one for you.” At this
moment Maria would have preferred a cold drink, but she knew
that a child’s generosity must not be rejected or discouraged so she
accepted the somewhat sticky morsel with a “Thank you, my little
lamb.”
Helga ran about chasing an elusive butterfly. She had taken
off her shoes and stockings and the green grass felt cool and
wonderful. She now turned her attention to the dandelions that
grew everywhere in profusion. She gathered a large bouquet and
sat down close to where her mother was spreading the clean wool
on the grass. She made a crown from the blossoms and put it on
her head. “Now I am a Princess,” she thought, as she began
making a long chain of the stems.
“Are you going to wash all the wool that Papa cut off the
sheep yesterday?” she asked.
“No dear. Just enough for our mitts and socks and perhaps a
sweater for your brother, Arnie.”
“What will you do with the rest of the wool?”
“Perhaps we will sell it to Mr. Dalmann when he comes.”