The Icelandic Canadian - 01.06.1973, Qupperneq 33

THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
31
FORGOTTEN FOOTSTEPS
by GuSrun Finnsdottir
Part I.
Spring had arrived with warmth,
growth, and singing, and a youthful
spirit was manifest everywhere.
The trees spread out their branches
with the young soft green foliage that
trembled in the soft southerly breeze.
The sun sparkled on the lake that
rested like a shining mirror in the
morning stillness. The fragrance of
the forest and songs of birds filled the
air. It felt as if spring and youth
would reign forever.
Ingolfur of Vik saw and felt the
beauty of spring, but still his heart
felt heavy today, and he had not
slept well last night. All night he had
wrestled with the surveying of his
past life. The weary and distressful
footsteps stood out clear. One such
step and not the easiest he would take
today. It was the wedding day of his
daughter, Ragnhildur, and she was
marrying an Englishman, a medical
doctor who lived in Winnipeg.
tier father had expected her to
continue being the mistress of Vik,
marry some good-looking man, — an
Icelander. But those daydreams had
all collapsed.
For many years Ingolfur had pre-
pared himself for handing over his
life’s work as well done as possible to
his daughter. He had taken pains im-
proving and enlarging his land,
meadows and fields; also beautifying
and improving the house. But what
good was it all now?
Ingolfur looked at his farm, as it
stood here today. The farm house,
large and impressive, of light-grey con-
crete, with a red roof. A well-cared-
for garden all around it and a wide
avenue of trees extending to the high-
way. Behind the farm house was a
good sized thicket and in a olearing
to the west stood a granary, a barn,
and a tool storage. Everything showed
evidence of cleanliness, orderliness,
and good means.
Level fields and meadows spread
north and west of the farm. And the
lake, teeming with fish, lay a good
hundred feet from the house. It had
kept them alive in the long ago, in
their first pioneer years, while he was
raising livestock and breaking the
land.
He remembered the first log cabin
he had built at Vik, .small and low
with an earthern floor and clay pack-
ed into the cracks where the logs did
not fit. Now it would not be consider-
ed a decent shelter for cattle.
What little was bought for the
household, he had carried on his back
over long distances. For two years
they had not tasted any other meat
than wild fowl and game he shot
every now and then. They could not
slaughter any of their few cattle. Then
he managed to raise oxen for draught
and plowing. He himself built the first
oxcart and that was quite an im-
provement. But the oxen were a bit
slower than the cars nowadays. There