Hurry Hurry

I found this poem on one of my favorite sites and had to post it. Such is the life of a homesteader.


HURRY, HURRY, MARY DEAR!
Hurry, hurry, Mary dear
fall is over, winter’s here.
Not a moment to be lost,
in a minute we get frost!
In an hour we get snow!
Drifts like houses! Ten below!
Pick the apples, dill the pickles,
chop down trees for wooden nickels.
Dig the turnips, split the peas,
cook molassses, curdle cheese.
Churn the butter, smoke the hams,
can tomatoes, put up jams.
Stack the stove wood, string the beans,
up the storms and down the screens.
Pull the curtains, close the shutters,
Dreadfully the wild wind mutters.
Oil the snowshoes, stoke the fires,
Soon the roads are hopeless mires.
Mend the mittens, knit the sweaters,
bring my glasses, mail my letters.
Toast the muffins, brew the tea,
hot and sweet and good for me.
Bake me donuts, plain and frosted….
What, my dear? You feel exhausted?
Yes, these winters are severe
Hurry, hurry -Mary, dear.
- N.M. Bodecker


What a great reminder that Father Time and Mother Earth wait for noone.