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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSrR 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF 
 THE GRAND 
 
IN THE VALLEY 
 OF THE GRAND 
 
 BY 
 ERNEST LEAVERTON 
 
 1917 
 

 Copyright 1917 
 
 By ERNEST LEAVERTON 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 DEC I3IBI7 
 
 'C1.A48106G 
 
^ 
 
 Dedicated 
 
 to 
 
 The Homemakers in the Grand Valley, 
 
Before me lay the keyboard of 
 Nature: Touch it where I would it re- 
 sponded with a melodious harmony of 
 Love. 
 
 I pass this little volume on to you, 
 dear reader, trusting that it may afford 
 you a pleasant hour of reflection and 
 en j oyment. 
 
 Grand Junction, Colorado. 
 October, 1917. 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF 
 THE GRAND 
 
 The waning moonlight proclaimed 
 the birth of a perfect day. The sky was 
 of azure clearness. Rays of saffron 
 from Eastern horizon betokened a glor- 
 ious sunrise. Presently from o'er Grand 
 Mesa — that magnificent array of rock 
 and pine — proud Phoebus raised his 
 head. Another day was born. An- 
 other life to live ! 
 
 The charming days of Fall had come ; 
 
 The trees were full of hanging fruit. 
 Son ! You and I to-day will chum, 
 
 And unto Nature give salute. 
 
 We'll walk — ^we want no motor's help; 
 
 To-day we'll be healthy and free; 
 Our lungs we'll give a chance to yelp ; 
 
 Our bodies we'll girdle with glee ! 
 
 Son and I were soon off. We carried 
 no guns or fishing tackle — ^who would 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 want to spoil the pleasure of a living 
 creature on a day like this? We went 
 forth to enjoy encumbered not, save by 
 thin sandwich and cookie in side pock- 
 et. A day before us. Kings ! Living in 
 the Valley of the Grand! 
 
 The Valley of the Grand! 
 
 How sweet thy name: 
 How great thy name — 
 
 Thou Valley of the Grand! 
 
 We hit off toward the sugar factory 
 — the shortest cut to the river. I have 
 often thought of what a wonderful thing 
 sugar is — Concentrated Nectar of the 
 Gods ! Incorruptible, like a sweetheart 
 true; Pure as the morning dew. And 
 we make it here ; right under one's nose, 
 and we consider it commonplace. As 
 we approached the factory, I brought 
 myself to attention, and looking into 
 the face of old Mr. Factory, I tipped 
 my hat and bowing said: "Old Mister 
 Sugar Man, I'm glad to see yuh ! May 
 
 2 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 ye live long and prosper." Some wav- 
 ing beet tops in the nearby field caught 
 i^J eye, and I tossed them a kiss, as I 
 came up to the tail end of my salute. 
 And then realizing that they were back 
 of all of this, I sang them a little song 
 as we passed by: 
 
 My Sugar Beet! 
 
 My Sugar Beet! 
 What bee carried honey to you? 
 
 Who gave you the power 
 
 To sit by the hour, 
 And fill up your heart 
 
 With such a sweet tart? 
 Cupid must have been shooting at you I 
 
 "Off agin — gone agin, Dad!" com- 
 mented Son. 
 
 "Heavens! Boy," said I, "You have 
 busted my rhyming-machine and now 
 my bobbin is gone." 
 
 "I should worry," consoled Son, look- 
 ing as rosy and happy as a baked apple 
 swimming amid sugar and cream. 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 'Erelong we reached the river — ^the 
 Grand. Looking between two young 
 trees of cottonwood, we watched the 
 swift stream eddy and half turn and leap 
 forward, ever on in endless glides and 
 spurts. Walking a little farther up the 
 bank we came to a small bayou where a 
 slight part of the bosom-stream came 
 in to play a while with its green friends 
 along the border. Round the bend be- 
 yond came the sound of crash and splash 
 — it was the waters playing leapfrog 
 o'er the rocks. Coming to the bend, 
 we stood enthralled. Here lay before 
 us a long sweep of the Father of the 
 Valley ! If his mighty soul could but 
 speak, he would tell us of how he came 
 to be : 
 
 How rock formation fought for breath ; 
 
 And air and water saved from death 
 This once fiery ball of hell. 
 
 Now abounds on every land 
 Evidence of the Unseen Hand. 
 
IN THE VALLEY OP THE GRAND 
 
 Many long years was it to be 
 Before I could run to the sea. 
 
 Through mountain and valley and 
 plain 
 I rumbled and tumbled to gain 
 This freedom so precious to me. 
 
 But out of my labor and strife 
 
 I gave to this valley the breath of 
 Life! 
 
 How true it is that people must first 
 settle and develop the great river-basins 
 of the world, in order to furnish stam- 
 ina to the less favored spots. Go back, 
 if you please, in the misty ages of the 
 past and study the history of the growth 
 of the great river-basins of the olden 
 times: The Nile, the Tigris and Eu- 
 phrates, and the Yang-tse-Kiang. Later 
 the hordes came to the Danube; scaled 
 the Alps and drifted up the Rhine. On 
 and on they pressed until our own At- 
 lantic shore bid them welcome, and up 
 
 5 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 the rivers of its coast they went. Be- 
 fore long they sailed down the Ohio and 
 into the Mississippi. Finally they 
 crossed the Great Divide; and here we 
 are, friend — in the Valley of the Grand. 
 Where we have barely touched these 
 rich ovens of earth and these pockets of 
 mineral and oil. What a heritage to 
 enjoy and to pass on to future genera- 
 tions ! 
 
 Flow on, Grand! 
 
 Natured and planned 
 By Divine Grace! 
 
 Charming thy face; 
 Useful thy form — 
 All, You adorn! 
 
 We tramped on through willow-gar- 
 den and sand-drift. The great river 
 had sifted out huge banks of yellow 
 and white sand, which lay glistening in 
 the bright sunlight. Son wrote his 
 name in the sand, while I threw flat lit- 
 
 6 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 tie rocks on the face of the stream. 
 They hummed and skipped from dip to 
 dip and finally went to their last sleep 
 in the bed of the river. A hawk floated 
 lazily overhead; some magpies chatter- 
 ed and flirted in the nearby trees. 
 Strolling idly along, we came opposite 
 the old f ording-place. My mind turned 
 back to the pioneer: Where is he who 
 first ventured to ride his steed into the 
 vitals of this swift, death-sucking mon- 
 ster's maw? Braver heart than I pos- 
 sess must he have who would attempt 
 to conquer this turbulent stream. Per- 
 haps his spirit was hovering near — 
 reading my feeble attempts to give him 
 due admiration and praise : 
 
 O! That I had words to tell 
 
 Of this first Knight who rode so well ; 
 Who marked the way to moving band, 
 
 So they could ford the River Grand. 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 No monument may grace your resting 
 
 place, 
 And of your flesh and bone there is no 
 
 trace ; 
 But now You, our Hero, from Home 
 
 above 
 Can see the fruits of your pioneer 
 
 Love! 
 
 Peace and Rest, to you! 
 
 We now turned off into a path that 
 led into the orchards. Fruit hung 
 temptingly within reach. 
 
 "May I have a pear. Dad.'"' inquired 
 Son. 
 
 "Yes, here's some on the ground, but 
 don't touch the fruit on the trees." 
 Somehow I felt that we were welcome to 
 fruit on the ground, without asking for 
 it. This belief was further reinforced 
 by the fact that there were numerous 
 ducks and ducklings helping themselves 
 to it. 
 
 8 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 Quack! Quack! Smack! Smack! Muck! 
 Muck ! 
 
 Full of duck song 
 
 Thej waddled along; 
 Eating their fill. 
 
 From orchard till. 
 
 Why man! — they were there like a 
 duck! 
 
 Who doesn't enjoy watching a duck.? 
 They may not be so handy on dry land 
 with their side-wheelers ; but oh that 
 bill — how it dives and darts ! That 
 neck with its fifty-seven varieties of 
 glides, twists and turns. Yes, a duck 
 must get a lot of pleasure out of life. 
 At least, I never heard of them being 
 bothered with fleas nor "sich" like. 
 About the only thing that "gets" a 
 duck, after he's safe and sound out of 
 his shell, is — Homo, No joshing, did 
 you ever hear of a duck dying a natural 
 death.? 
 
 9 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 When we reached the house, we asked 
 the lady for a drink. "Certainly, all 
 you want, in the cistern-house." 
 
 We had expected to have to drink 
 cistern water. Not so — it was mount- 
 ain water, from Grand Mesa. "Oh! 
 And so you have mountain water?" 
 
 "Yes, we get the same water as you 
 do in town." 
 
 "That's great !" I complimented, 
 
 "Don't let the ducks in, please," as 
 she turned toward the house. 
 
 Son and I took turns in drinking and 
 shooing ducks. Having taken on our 
 capacity we departed, feeling that so far 
 the Gods had been exceedingly good to 
 us ; but our good luck was still on the 
 upward trend — we had much more 
 treasure-trove ahead waiting discovery. 
 
 What charm in hidden things; 
 
 What joy their finding brings I 
 What peace in looking around — 
 
 In sky, water and ground! 
 
 10 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 We came very nearly stumbling over 
 a brick house in the next orchard. It 
 set well back from the road hidden by 
 some massive cottonwoods. It was not 
 a small house, for it was two stories with 
 ample girth; yet it appeared so on ac- 
 count of the trees. How cool and in- 
 viting it looked! How substantial and 
 everlasting ! 
 
 "Some house!" remarked Son. 
 
 "I would guess yes," I returned. 
 
 A man and woman were packing pears 
 in a shed. "Come in!" said the man, 
 in a soft quiet voice. 
 
 "Oh Dad!" exclaimed son, pointing 
 toward some plums and prunes hanging 
 in profusion nearby. 
 
 "Wouldn't that make your mouth 
 water.'* Help yourself. Sonny," spoke 
 up the woman, "there's plenty of them." 
 
 "I should like to buy a few," I said. 
 
 "Oh shucks! We wouldn't think of 
 selling them," she responded. "Would 
 you like a pear.'*" 
 
 11 
 
IN THE VALLEY OP THE GRAND 
 
 "No, thank you, but I'll sure eat a 
 prune or two." 
 
 We stood in the shed-doorway and 
 watched them pack. How deftly the 
 woman's fingers entwined paper around 
 the pears ; and how proud and handsome 
 the pears were, to receive such good 
 care and to be laid down gently, just 
 so. Once in a while there would be a 
 cull tossed over into the cull-box. I 
 felt sorry for them, until the woman 
 told me that they would go to a poor 
 family in town, and be eaten by a lot of 
 little tots. Then I thought that they 
 were after all the luckiest of the lot, for 
 they would be appreciated the most. 
 
 "You are getting good prices, are you 
 not?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, fine!" joyously pro- 
 claimed the man. "We will make at 
 least a thousand dollars off of our pears 
 this year and we have not quite an acre 
 and a half. My brother, back East, 
 won't believe it. He's coming out this 
 
 12 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 fall. Said he was coming just on pur- 
 pose to find out how much of a liar I 
 am about my returns. By the time he 
 comes I'll have them from the Asso- 
 ciation to show him. If he comes I am 
 a-thinking there'll be another family 
 move out here in the spring." 
 
 "Well, Son, haven't you filled up yet 
 on those plums and prunes.^" 
 
 "Let him eat all he wants — they won't 
 hurt him," encouragingly offered the 
 woman. 
 
 "Gee, Dad! Wasn't you a kid once?" 
 ejaculated Son. 
 
 "Yep, I reckon; but let's be going. 
 Thank you for the fruit." 
 
 "Don't mention it," was the parting 
 chorus of the contented packers. 
 
 The next place stood clean and preen 
 — like a pure-bloodel animal. It seemed 
 to say: "Come on — you're as welcome 
 as ripe tomatoes in January. I'm al- 
 ways ready for company, be it back gate 
 or front." We came through the back 
 
 13 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 gate — one of those little lover's kind 
 that swings noiselessly and gracefully, 
 with a handy latch. Where is there a 
 youth or maiden who has not made love 
 over a gate. Why ask such an obvious 
 question : I shall deny the question mark. 
 Let's take a look at ourselves over the 
 gate, as we once were, as we now are, 
 as we will be: 
 
 Lovers at the front gate: 
 
 Who cares if hour is late ; 
 With love gently swaying 
 
 There's no harm in staying. 
 Both busy taking stock — 
 
 "Marie! It's twelve o'clock!" 
 "O hang it!" says Marie — 
 
 "Look out! Bobbie, she'll see!" 
 
 "I didn't say you could have so many; 
 "Naughty boy! Next time you'll 
 get not any." 
 
 14 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 "Marie! Come this minute!" 
 
 "Gee, kid, I'm in for it. 
 
 "Maw's getting awful mad — 
 
 "She's most anything but glad. 
 "Bobbie, let loose my arm." 
 
 "One more won't do no harm." 
 "Oh well ! Take it and go ... , 
 
 "Gee whiz ! But you ain't slow !" 
 
 As I have already said — ^we came 
 through the gate — and there they were 
 — what? Why the loveliest patch of 
 onions one ever shed tears over. From 
 love to onions — ^but such is life ! Six or 
 seven acres of onions, and not a weed 
 in sight! Their white bodies gleamed 
 in the sunlight ; showing only, of course, 
 a modest glimpse of tender blossom. 
 Each green plumage nodded a hearty 
 onion greeting; then stood quietly and 
 proudly to attention as we gave them 
 fond and tender looks. I wanted to get 
 versy at once and sing them a little 
 onion song. But alas! The only thing 
 
 IS 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 I could rhyme with onion was bunion, 
 and that wouldn't do. As I struggled 
 with the problem, Son suddenly exclaim- 
 ed : "Cracky ! Dad, wouldn't you like to 
 own that patch?" 
 
 "Son! If I owned that patch of 
 onions I'd be the proudest gentleman in 
 Mesa County. I'd go right up town 
 and run a private bus-line out there and 
 back. I'd show 'em what I could do, 
 by jinks !" 
 
 "How much do you s'pose a fellow'd 
 get for them. Dad?" 
 
 "I don't know, Son, but I remember 
 that I had to pay fifteen cents a pound 
 last Spring for a mess or two." 
 
 "How many do you reckon there is 
 here?" 
 
 "Now look'a here, Son, I don't know 
 any more about that than you do — sup- 
 pose you count them. If you are good 
 at figures you ought to get them 'the 
 once over' by Christmas. Maybe we'll 
 
 16 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 run on to somebody around here who can 
 furnish us with some onion-statistics." 
 
 We came on toward the barn. Every- 
 thing was as neat and nifty as young 
 Mr. Neat and Miss Nifty could be. 
 Stalks of green corn lay in an even pile 
 on a hayrack ; all farm implements were 
 under cover; two fat cows stood con- 
 tentedly chewing their cuds ; a dapple- 
 gray mare stuck her head over the 
 fence at us ; her colt was lazily taking 
 lunch; several cords of wood, cut into 
 stove-wood lengths, were piled in com- 
 pact rows between large cottonwood 
 trees. "There, Son, I want you to take 
 notice of that wood-pile. Isn't it a 
 pippin.'* It makes me feel right at 
 home." 
 
 Some folk have made their pile. The 
 only kind of a pile I have made is a 
 wood-pile. Yes, I live in town, but I've 
 got a wood-pile. Creating a wood-pile 
 is an excellent way to eradicate guile 
 and gall. I must confess that I am self- 
 
 17 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 ish, for now and then travelers come 
 along and look at my wood-pile, and 
 notice the un-piled part of it, and — go 
 on. Other travelers offer to work out 
 a meal. But I tell them that that wood- 
 pile is my very own and I don't propose 
 to divide that pleasure with anyone. I 
 am willing to let them have a meal, but 
 not at the expense of using my wood- 
 pile. I love my wood-pile. I have yet 
 to find a more useful and health-giving 
 implement than is the ax. This ancient 
 tool of man has created more wealth, 
 health and happiness than has any other 
 instrument ever invented by him. Every 
 true nature's nobleman loves his ax. He 
 delights in the harmony of its voice and 
 its handsome clean-cut face. It is a 
 charming companion : 
 
 18 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 Some aspire to office and affairs of 
 state ; 
 But give me a wood-pile near the 
 barnyard gate. 
 Some like to ride around in buzz-carts 
 so grand; 
 
 But I like to swing my ax to beat the 
 band. 
 
 Some have got rheumatics and others 
 have the gout; 
 But I've got an appetite and feeling 
 stout. 
 Some are getting old and bent and 
 round-chested ; 
 And always feeling tired and never 
 are rested. 
 
 If all you guys that's sick and sort o' 
 
 disgusted ; 
 And thinking hard to keep from 
 
 going busted — 
 Would get an ax and chop some wood 
 You'll be doing yourselves a lot of good ! 
 
 (And others too). 
 
 19 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 On the back lawn were several lines of 
 clothes ! 
 
 When I see the Stars and Stripes 
 floating from lofty staff, it makes me 
 want to take off my hat and salute The 
 Colors. But when I see Milady's clothes- 
 line full of the usual Monday wash — 
 and it so pretty and white, waving and 
 flapping in the wind — not only do I want 
 to take off my hat to her and to it, but 
 I want to kneel in the presence of both 
 and offer up a prayer that I live in a 
 country that can boast of more clothes- 
 line per capita than any other country 
 on the face of God's green earth. And 
 if there are baby clothes on the line, in 
 my mind's fancy, I can see little angels 
 with happy faces sitting around on the 
 grass and on the fence looking at the 
 little garments! 
 
 "What are you dreaming about, 
 Dad.?" 
 
 "I was thinking. Son, what a lovely 
 place that is for turtle-doves to spoon 
 
 20 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 in," pointing to a dove-box on top of 
 the barn. Several of the doves were 
 preening and cooing on the shingles. 
 Symbols of purity, gentleness and 
 peace, they seemed to bless the quiet 
 barn-yard. They flitted among the 
 animals. While we were watching them 
 one lit on the broad back of the dapple- 
 gray. She stood perfectly still while 
 the dove favored her with a visit: 
 
 What confidence and love 
 
 Doth animals display, 
 Where man is kind and true. 
 Soul, when sick and tried, 
 
 Retreat to quiet barn-yard — 
 Owned by some gentle friend — 
 
 And watch its sweet life. 
 
 Rainbows of hope arise; 
 
 Disappointments depart. 
 And peace captures the heart! 
 
 As we came around in front of the 
 house, a man addressed us: "Hello, 
 there ! What are you doing out here.?" 
 
 21 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 "Why, Guy! Is this where you live? 
 But I might have known that you lived 
 here — just from the thrills and joys 
 that I have received during the past half 
 an hour. Here I have known you for a 
 good many years and have never been 
 on your place before. I have lost a 
 great deal by acting so unwisely." 
 
 "Tut, tut, man," he replied modestly, 
 "You are spreading it on too thick." 
 
 "Say, Guy! What a glorious field of 
 onions you have. What can you pos- 
 sibly do with all the money they will 
 bring you.''" 
 
 "I've got a place for it — I am going 
 to build a barn. That old barn has been 
 an eyesore to me for a long time." 
 
 "That old bam looks pretty good to 
 me." 
 
 "That may be, but I'm going to have 
 a better one." 
 
 What do you expect to get for those 
 
 onions ?" 
 
 22 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 "Oh, I ought to get at least three hun- 
 dred dollars an acre. How would you 
 fellows like to have some watermelon?" 
 
 "Would we like to have some water- 
 melon, Son? Would we!" Loud and 
 long came the answer — "You betcha!" 
 
 "Come on," said* Guy. He took us 
 across the road. 
 
 "My! What potatoes!" I ejaculated. 
 
 "Let me show 'em up," and Guy 
 scraped off a little loose, sweet earth 
 with his hand. There they lay — uni- 
 form in size — not quite as large as a 
 croquet-ball, and slightly flattened. 
 They were of a perfect mild red-rose 
 tint. He cut one open, and oh, such a 
 white heart! I have seen red potatoes 
 before, but none so lovely as were these. 
 And so many say that they can't raise 
 potatoes in the Valley. What mag- 
 nificient proof did my eyes behold. 
 Never again will I be imposed upon by 
 any disgruntled potato knocker. I 
 proclaim it: More perfect potatoes 
 
 23 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 never grew eyes than were those that 
 winked at me from their soft bed in 
 Guy's field. 
 
 The next thing we came to was some 
 sweet potatoes ; their delicate vines cov- 
 ered the earth in thick profusion. 
 
 "Well, Guy, I suppose that these 
 sweet potatoes are right on the job, 
 too?" With a shovel he deftly turned 
 out a bunch of them. They hung in a 
 cluster, about the size of a milk-bucket 
 — five large ones from six to eight inches 
 long and a number of smaller ones: 
 
 Sweet potato ! Sweet potato ! 
 
 What magic did cause you to grow. 
 Yellow and fragrant and tender. 
 In riotous free-hearted splendor.? 
 
 Oh yam ! Oh yam ! Delicious yam ! 
 
 Savoriest tuber what am — 
 When you are on the bill of fare, 
 
 Just let me know and I'll be there ! 
 
 24 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 "There is just the right mess for your 
 dinner to-morrow," said Guy. (Guy 
 must have heard my prayer.) 
 
 "Guy, There is nothing that I can 
 think of this minute that I would rather 
 have than baked sweet patotoes." 
 
 "Well then, I'll eat your share of the 
 watermelon," commented Son. 
 
 "Now, Son!" I remonstrated, "it is 
 not fair to throw a clutch in so tight as 
 that. I love my sweet potato — but oh, 
 you watermelon!" 
 
 "Follow me," said Guy. We were 
 soon surrounded and captured, body 
 and soul, by a field-artillery of water- 
 melons. They pointed at us from every 
 angle. Guy charged here and there 
 among them, thumping as he hopped. 
 "Thump, thump !" he softly whacked 
 them, until he found one extra large of 
 girth that thumped true to his trained 
 sense of a ripe and mellow heart within. 
 
 "Here is one!" he proclaimed. We 
 wheeled and charged, with open mouth. 
 
 25 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 Gu J drew his large j ack-knif e. Follow- 
 ing the incision came the sound of crack- 
 ing rind — one of those cracks that 
 cracks itself. All it needed was a little 
 encouragement. I wish I could write that 
 sound down on paper, but it is a mys- 
 tical, soothing, unwriteable thing for me 
 — one of those goodies that I cannot 
 reduce to ink. 
 
 Eating watermelon, right off the vine 
 on a cool fall day ; All you want, man ! 
 Think of it ! I've just got to rhyme: 
 
 Refreshing sweet watery juice, 
 As ever a plug would turn loose. 
 
 Bright red-faced, mellow-hearted pulp. 
 Ecstasy at every gulp! 
 
 Watermelon ! Watermelon ! 
 
 Some airy light little fairy 
 Must have taken a pail of dew ; 
 
 Some sunshine and pearls and laugh- 
 ter of girls. 
 And chunk of rainbow, then blending 
 just so — 
 Behold ! Watermelon, that's you ! 
 
 26 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 Having loaded up to our ears on 
 watermelon, and only half of it being 
 consumed, we cached the remainder, 
 along with our bunch of sweet potatoes, 
 in a newly mowed alfalfa-cock in an ad- 
 joining field. "We'll be back this after- 
 noon, Guy." 
 
 "I'll be expecting you" he replied. 
 
 We ambled off through the alfalfa- 
 field, where the sweet aroma of the hay, 
 blending itself with the air and the 
 gentle breeze, concocted cocktails of de- 
 Hghtful nose-whiffings. I thought of 
 how pleasant it would be if it could be 
 canned. Perhaps some day somebody 
 will invent a machine that will compress 
 and capture this charming odor from 
 out of the air, and we can have it on our 
 tables the year round. Then one could 
 have various kinds of compressed odors 
 — keeping them on the table in one of 
 those oldfashioned whirl-a-gigs, like 
 mother used to have to keep the salt, 
 27 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 pepper, vinegar and pepper-sauce in. 
 Remember? 
 
 I have often thought of alfalfa as be- 
 ing Nature's most precious gift to the 
 arid West: 
 
 Thou tall slender clover-like desert 
 
 herb, 
 With violet and purple bloom superb ; 
 Prolific growth and everlasting youth ; 
 With grace usefulness and nothing 
 uncouth — 
 We of the West welcome you — Alfalfa f 
 
 When God was busy working out a plan. 
 That this great West might be useful 
 to man, 
 He made you immune from the heat and 
 cold; 
 And now you are far more precious 
 than gold — 
 Yes, we of the West love you — ^Alfalfa ! 
 
 Leaving the hay-field behind we en- 
 tered a field of corn. Old King Corn is 
 
 28 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 a reliable old soul — filling up the mush- 
 bowl and all sorts of useful stunts. He's 
 on the job most everywhere in the 
 States. He is certainly at home in the 
 Valley of the Grand. Quite a few local 
 folk used to tell me that one couldn't 
 raise corn here — that the nights were 
 too cold; but they don't talk that way 
 nowadays. I was born near a corn-field, 
 so I was told, and so I feel perfectly at 
 home in one. I don't have to ask any 
 one how many bushels of corn in a field 
 will make per acre. I may not know 
 much about onions, but when it comes to 
 corn, I'll take a peg in the deal. I'll 
 make a "sashay" around through the 
 corn, and then I'm ready to give my 
 opinion: "Well, boys, she'll run any- 
 where from eighty to eighty-five bush- 
 els per acre." 
 
 This particular corn-field in which 
 Son and I were gallivanting through, 
 was some corn, and then some — would 
 miss ninety bushels to the acre by only 
 
 29 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 an ear or two. There is no better corn 
 country on the face of God's green sod 
 than right here in the Valley. "Yep, 
 they done said yar nights she been too 
 cold. Wall what o' that— Tis all the 
 better by hinkey, fer the korn she sleeps 
 o' nights, and then how she does git up 
 and hump through the day — kause she's 
 fresh and full o' dew and feelin' fine, 
 thankey. If the nights war hot, she'd 
 git all het up and git cranky and tired 
 o' growin'. We done got sich a crackin' 
 good kuntry that we don't need hot 
 nights — things ken spread round fast 
 o' nuff from sunup ter sundown. Now, 
 ain't I got yer comin', goin' and side- 
 ways on the korn hatchin'.^" 
 
 I felt more at home than ever when I 
 ran across some cockle-burs in the corn, 
 for I have a distinct recollection of how 
 it was my job to go through the corn, 
 after it had been laid by, and hoe out the 
 burs. They are fine for making play- 
 baskets, but somehow they are not high- 
 
 30 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 Ij relished as a food by man or beast. 
 In fact I have never discovered what 
 they were really made for, unless it was 
 to give boys something to do between 
 times. I couldn't resist grabbing a 
 grasshopper and making him angry by 
 running a straw up and down his ribs, 
 until he tried to spit on me. I also won- 
 dered why there were no chinch-bugs 
 in the corn. They sure used to hang 
 around the corn a right smart back in 
 Kansas, when I was a boy. Perhaps 
 our Chamber of Commerce has sent them 
 no invitation to come over the range, or 
 else maybe they began to raise so much 
 stuff for them to eat in Kansas that they 
 all died of the colic. Anyway they have 
 never seen fit to call on us. 
 
 After loitering along through the 
 corn we finally ran plump bang into a 
 patch of tomatoes. There was a youth 
 picking them : "Hello, sonny ! How are 
 they turning out this year?" 
 
 "Most too many fer pickin'." 
 
 31 
 
IN THE VALLEY OP THE GRAND 
 
 "How many ton are you getting to 
 the acre?" 
 
 "Don't ax me — ^I ain't been pickin' 
 that long." 
 
 "My! But those are big, smooth fel- 
 lows." 
 
 "Yars, but they ain't as big as they 
 beed back in Indeeannie." 
 
 "Oh! I don't know about that, I've 
 been around some in Tippecanoe County 
 and I have never seen anything that 
 would lay a candle to these." 
 
 "Mustin ter ben down in the South- 
 ern part then — they hafter git extru 
 sized cans fer ter can 'em down yar." 
 
 "You must be thinking about pump- 
 kins." 
 
 "Punkins ! Say, feller ! You oter seed 
 the punk my pap tuck the prize with 
 down ter our kuntry fair. It was so 
 blasted big me and me big brother cud 
 sleep in 'er nights, and we keeped one 
 cow on 'er all winter." 
 
 "Who owns this place .f"' 
 
 32 
 
lis THE VALLEY OV THE GRAND 
 
 "Wall, I caint just say now — I jess 
 come on this job this mornin', and I 
 think maybe I'll quit'er ter-night — too 
 many tomaters ter suit me." 
 
 "How many bushel-baskets are you 
 getting on the row?" 
 
 "Caint say, I ain't a bin trackin' 'em." 
 
 "Oh! come on. Dad!" ejaculated Son. 
 
 I couldn't blame that boy much for 
 being discouraged, if he had to pick all 
 of those tomatoes by himself — ^but I 
 would pity the tomatoes more (and the 
 owner as well) if he did. I must con- 
 fess that I saw more ripe tomatoes than 
 I had ever seen in one spot before. The 
 vines were kept off of the ground by 
 strong wire-netting that had been put 
 in place while the plants were small. 
 This kept the tomatoes off of the ground 
 and also gave the sun a better chance 
 to get at them. A tomato in its per- 
 fect state is a gem. Its body is so 
 delicately curved and its green stem so 
 artistically woven and its coloring so 
 
 33 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 gorgeous. Really, to me, it is one of 
 Nature's best handiwork in the vegetable 
 kingdom. 
 
 "Let's hit her oif for the river and eat 
 our lunch in the shade," suggested Son. 
 
 "All right, I'm willing, for it will take 
 me at least an hour making notes on 
 what I got out of that boy about toma- 
 toes." 
 
 "Well, Dad, that boy wasn't hired to 
 answer questions, was he?" 
 
 "Oh! I haven't any kick coming so 
 far as that part of it was concerned — 
 he answered me every time I spoke to 
 him." 
 
 "Yes, but he didn't say anything." 
 
 "Oh, well. Son, that's nothing un- 
 common — plenty of people do that." 
 
 We lunched in the shade of the cotton 
 woods and watched and listened to the 
 river. There has always been something 
 fascinating to me in watching water in 
 motion. We know that it has been the 
 reason for a great many ideals and 
 
 J4 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 mythologies and fantasies of man from 
 time immemorial. One of those old 
 Greek philosophers, full of love or 
 prunes, as the case might be, would sit 
 for hours (nowadays he would go a-fish- 
 ing) and muse until he had a whole cir- 
 cle of muses and a basket full of sprites 
 Sometim-es he would get caught in the 
 rain, and then he would image a thunder 
 god or two, and when the slow moss-cov- 
 ered brook had become a raging torrent, 
 he would mix his thunder and blixen and 
 turn out a batch of devils. And then 
 when the storm had passed and the sun 
 had dried his clothes, he would forget 
 the evil spirits and think that this was 
 a pretty good world after all. 
 
 After munching our snack and taking 
 a short snooze, we ambled off into the 
 outskirts of the peach-belt. Think 
 man! The average yield per acre of a 
 good peach orchard in the Valley of the 
 Grand is fifteen hundred boxes. Com- 
 pute it at seventy-five cents per box, 
 
 35 
 
TN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 and there you are — going some, eh? Of 
 course, I don't want to be understood as 
 meaning that we get a crop every year. 
 Let me be conservative and have a crop 
 every other year, and allow me to re- 
 duce the average price to fifty cents — 
 yes, even forty cents, per box, and then, 
 my friend, we are still making more 
 money off of a ten-acre peach orchard 
 than one would off of a quarter-section 
 of land in the Mississippi Valley. 
 
 Yes, we have our troubles, too, just the 
 same as one has troubles in other places. 
 There are a lot of folk who think that 
 it is a snap to grow peaches. Nix on 
 the snap. Fruit-growing is the highest 
 and hardest kind of an art, but it pays 
 the true artist well. The general aver- 
 age farmer has to learn the art, and any 
 art is a zealous mistress — demanding all 
 of one's time and attention, and 
 especially is this true in horticulture. A 
 peach tree is like an infant — somebody 
 has to nurse and feed it the proper food, 
 etc. 
 
 36 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 We found that most of the peaches 
 had been picked, but we discovered one 
 here and there — enough to eat. They 
 had ripened on the trees and were very 
 dehcious. Take a large Elberta or a 
 Crawford, and size it up : 
 
 O! Miss Peach! Surely thou art fem- 
 inine. 
 Or no such creamy tint would be 
 thine — 
 
 Thou Valley of the Grand's Valentine! 
 
 No more beauty and grace is found 
 anywhere ; 
 
 No fruit more deserving of loving 
 care. 
 Thy form doth my heart and soul en- 
 snare ! 
 
 Gathering the fragrance of the morn's 
 
 dew; 
 Your covenants with the sunbeams 
 
 renew — 
 Why ! The Angels in Heaven would w^el- 
 
 come you! 
 
 37 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 "Well, Son, we had better be turning 
 face about," and we struck off through 
 the country homeward bound. 
 
 "Remember that half melon, Dad." 
 
 "Don't accuse me of forgetting that, 
 Son. We'll sidle back that way after a 
 while." 
 
 "Hello, there!" 
 
 "Hello, yourself! Why, is that you 
 George. You haven't moved down here, 
 have you.?" 
 
 "No, I live in the same place — ^I've 
 got this place rented for a pasture." 
 
 "Have you gone out of the truck busi- 
 ness .f^" 
 
 "Mostly. I like stock-raising better. 
 What do you think of this colt, ain't he 
 a beaut .f^ Refused two fifty for the 
 mare and colt. Got a couple of two- 
 year olds in the back pasture. Come 
 on over and see 'em." 
 
 "And so you have decided to go in for 
 stock.?" 
 
 "Yes, I like it better than farming." 
 
 38 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 "It's wonderful how horses have come 
 back, George. One would think with all 
 kinds of motors that horses would be a 
 drug on the market. Of course the war 
 has helped a lot." 
 
 "Yes, that's true, but there are a- 
 plenty of farmers, myself included, 
 that's found out that it pays better to 
 have horses rather than motors: horses 
 are cheaper than gasoline now, and then, 
 too, it's a lot better for the soil." 
 
 "My, man! But you have some fine 
 calves there." 
 
 "Yes, I've got seven of them — they're 
 all from good stock. I want to show 
 you some pigs that is pigs when we get 
 back to the house. Got ten pigs that 
 will be ready for market in December — 
 corn fed — they are good for at least 
 three hundred dollars." 
 
 "George, thirty years ago hogs were 
 selling for three cents a pound, and now 
 they are fifteen cents up — some differ- 
 ence. In those days if a farmer would 
 
 39 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 invest a thousand dollars in a pleasure 
 vehicle, he would have been voted as 
 ready for the bug house ; nowadays the 
 farmer who doesn't motor is a curiosity. 
 By George ! George, that is certainly a 
 peach of a pair of two-year olds, and 
 how well they match, what are they 
 worth ?" 
 
 "Well, I'll get at least four fifty, may- 
 be five hundred for 'em. I've got some 
 cheap land up on the Pinon where I am 
 going to summer my stock next year, 
 and in a few years I'll be in the stock 
 business right." 
 
 "George, this has been a crackin' good 
 year for everybody around here, hasn't 
 it.?" 
 
 "Yes, I'm satisfied." 
 
 George turned the mare and colt into 
 the pasture and we walked back to his 
 house with him. 
 
 "Want some cantaloupes .f^" inquired 
 George. "I've only got a few — feeding 
 them to the pigs mostly." 
 
 40 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 "Why don't you ship some?" 
 "I haven't time to monkey with them." 
 We came to the patch, about one-half 
 acre — several hundred melons were com- 
 ing on in all stages of development. 
 
 "Better come up to the house and get 
 some salt." 
 
 "No thanks, Son carries salt — he uses 
 an old talcum can and it shoots fine. We 
 would rather have a can of salt than a 
 gun any day." Son and I ate two 
 muskmelons apiece. "Well, so long 
 George." 
 
 "Come out again." 
 
 "We wHl." 
 
 "Dad, when I grow up I want to be a 
 farmer," said Son. 
 
 "All right. Son, I believe that you 
 have a good hunch. I'll try to get to- 
 gether enough coin to send you to some 
 good agricultural college." 
 
 "It don't take much money, does it.?"^ 
 
 41 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 "Not if jou work your way through, 
 It don't. Where there is a will there is 
 always a way — as the old saying goes." 
 In about an hour of steady plodding 
 we reached the cache and found our 
 melon still cool. Seeing Guy out in the 
 field, we carried our melon over to where 
 he was working, so that we could talk 
 and eat together. 
 
 "Well, Guy ! I see you are still at it." 
 "Yes, I just received an order from 
 the hotel in town to bring in fifty 
 pounds of sweet potatoes, and while 
 they are not quite ready to dig, they are 
 bringing me good money — twelve and 
 a half cents a pound — and so I can af- 
 ford to nip them now. I'll be through 
 by the time you get your melon eaten 
 and then I want to show you my house," 
 "You like to ranch, don't you, Guy .?" 
 "Yes, I do. I would rather run this 
 little place than anything else I know of. 
 I've tried other things, but I am back on 
 the land to stay." 
 
 42 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 What joy in doing things 
 
 That one likes best; 
 What pleasure labor brings — 
 
 Contentment, rest. 
 
 Happy he who finds out 
 
 His own life's work; 
 No longer does he doubt — 
 
 Nothing to shirk. 
 
 Achievement surely his 
 
 Reward and crown; 
 Victory certain is — 
 
 Great his renown! 
 
 I placed my mess of sweet potatoes 
 in a small flour sack, which I had 
 brought along for just such an emergen- 
 cy, and Son and I went with Guy to see 
 his house. It nestled back among the 
 trees, comfortable and cozy. "What a 
 unique looking cement porch and how 
 substantial. Did you build it.?" 
 "Yes," said Guy ; "also the walks." 
 On the inside we found a beautiful 
 hardwood floor. Built into the walls 
 
 43 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 were bookcases, desk, china closet and 
 window-seats. He had electric lights, 
 mountain water from town, hot and cold 
 water, and of course bath, etc., in fact, 
 every city convenience. In the book- 
 cases were some of the world's best 
 literature. 
 
 "I see you have Dickens — he is my 
 favorite author." 
 
 "I like him, too," replied Guy. He 
 continued: "I like to read something 
 that I can get some good out of — not 
 necessarily heavy stuff, but something 
 about life and told in a human sort of 
 way. Nowadays, it seems to me, that 
 the publishers are spending most of their 
 time trying to get the people to buy 
 something that they don't want." 
 
 "Guy, you are exactly right, the pub- 
 lishers are trying to force the public 
 to read a fake brand of literature. 
 Blood and thunder and mystery and sex 
 ad nauseam isn't life. Life's activities 
 are better than this brand of fiction and 
 
 44 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 a whole lot more entertaining and whole- 
 some." We spent a very enjoyable hour 
 together. When I reluctantly started 
 to leave, I discovered that Son was be- 
 ing entertained by Guy's sister, with 
 popcorn balls for the principal menu. 
 She insisted that I also partake of one, 
 which I did without much urging. 
 
 Hear the pop, pop, popping. 
 
 As though there would be no stopping 
 Of the popping popcorn! 
 
 How it jostles and jumps. 
 
 Takes the leap and gets up and 
 humps : 
 Jolly is popping corn ! 
 
 In the long winter's night. 
 
 How it makes things cozy and right 
 When one's eating popcorn ! 
 
 "Looks like rain," I said as we started 
 for home. 
 
 "Yes," replied Guy. "It's raining a 
 
 little on Grand Mesa now. Come out 
 
 again." 
 
 45 
 
m THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 "We sure will." 
 
 The sun was rapidly approaching 
 his journey's end on this part of the 
 earth. He threw out his arch of Hght, 
 which shadowed the sides of Pinon 
 Mesa with a soft, misty green. Farther 
 on, near Grand Mesa, it became a vapor 
 of shadowy blue. Presently, a primary 
 rainbow came like a caressing baby 
 angel and nestled in eastern sky. 'Ere- 
 long a secondary bow appeared. March- 
 ing forth, parallel to western horizon 
 and apparently to capture the rainbows, 
 came bands of colors in red, orange, yel- 
 low, green and blue, with a heavy re- 
 serve of purplish glow over all. Shad- 
 ows and soft lights patted and kissed 
 the cheeks of the Book Cliffs, and lin- 
 gered in fond embrace around the neck 
 of Mount Garfield; then came on to 
 court Mount Lincoln. 
 
 Slowly, but surely, the outline of 
 Grand Mesa came through the sea of 
 blue vapor, faint at first — like a spirit — 
 
 46 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE GRAND 
 
 then bolder, and finally, the Soul of the 
 Proud Old Mountain came forth in all 
 of it's majestic glory. Floating clouds 
 of fluffy white and pearl and pearl-blue 
 and pearl-gray, flitted here and there, as 
 though carrying angels from Heaven to 
 witness this gorgeous array of light and 
 color. Gradually the soft shadows and 
 tints of blue dispersed for the time 
 being, and suddenly from crag to crag, 
 from gorge to gorge, from mountain to 
 mountain there appeared one vast sub- 
 lime color of golden beauty ! It tinted 
 and hallowed every living creature and 
 the growing garments of the earth. It 
 even appeared to make the dead in tree 
 and weed come forth and breathe a soft 
 beauty of life. It was wonderful ! Won- 
 derful beyond the conception of 
 thought! No pen could write it; no 
 voice could speak it; no brush could 
 paint it — it was the touch of a master 
 hand. My heart filled and thrilled with 
 gratitude. Everything proclaimed : 
 Glory to God in the Highest ; Peace on 
 Earth — Good Will to Men! 
 
 47