Barefoot

Chapter One

Mud and Straw

I heard my parents talk about the Great Depression, but I didn’t realize what that meant. I was almost six when we moved to Mound Grove. After many temporary houses, we finally found our own home. I thought it looked really old, but Mother saw reasons why it would be perfect for us. She was a quiet person who spoke softly, but her dark eyes sparkled as she explained. 

“It’s near Mama’s house. The school and the store are just over the hill.” 

She was right about all of that. I loved going to Mama Mitchell’s house. I couldn’t wait to go to Mound Grove School, and I liked the store for its penny candy and Poly Pop. Our “new” old house was near all of those special places. 

Mother was pretty, tall, and slender, and her hair was the color of a blackbird. She brushed her dark hair from her face and placed her hand over her heart. Then she smiled and said, “I love this big fireplace and chimney.”

Daddy Jim was slender too, but not as tall as Mother. He made friends with everyone in the neighborhood and enjoyed meeting people. Many of Daddy Jim’s friends never met my mother because she stayed home most of the time.

By the twinkle in Daddy Jim’s green Irish eyes, I could tell he knew something that we didn’t. He started the question game. I liked it when I knew the answers. 

“Why do we need a fireplace and chimney?” he asked and waited.

I called out, “I know, I know! So we can keep warm.”

“Good answer. Any other reason?” he asked. I tried to think of another.

Olaree, my happy little sister, clapped her hands and bounced. “For Santa,” she squealed.

What a good answer. Why didn’t I think of that?

“Anything else?” He looked at us and waited. 

While I was thinking, a faint flurry echoed from within the chimney.

Olaree turned her head to the side and listened. “I hear little noises!”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “It’s a twittering chimney!”

Daddy Jim looked up inside the chimney. “We have a nest of chimney sweeps. I can see the nest stuck to one side, about halfway up.”

“Can we see them?” I asked.

“No, we mustn’t bother them. Their mama will feed and take care of them.”

My eyes lit up. I hollered to get their attention. “I know another reason for a fireplace and chimney!”

“For birds!” Olaree squealed.

“I wanted to say that!” I frowned at her. She giggled.

Daddy Jim said, “We can hear their chirping each time the mother bird comes with food.” 

Although I couldn’t see the birdies, I could enjoy their music.

“Lucky for us,” Mother said, “we have honeysuckle vines for hummingbirds, a martin house for the purple martins, and a chimney for chimney sweeps.”

“Lots of birds!” Olaree waved her arms and ran in a circle.

Daddy Jim examined the chimney. “It looks like the stones are from here, our land.” 

“Really?” Mother said.

“Too bad the rock wasn’t used everywhere.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The rest of the fireplace, up inside the chimney and the outside, is all mud and straw.”

“Is that bad?” Mother asked. The two stared at each other a minute.

Finally, he said, “I hope it’s all right. Nowadays most folks use rock instead of mud and straw.” I guessed that meant our house was really old.

The baby birds grew and then flew away that summer. After they had gone, the weather turned chilly. One cold evening, Daddy Jim built a blazing fire in the fireplace. Olaree and I sat on the floor with our feet toward the fire. We looked somewhat alike, I thought, both with short brown hair. Mine was straight with bangs, and Olaree’s had some natural curl.

“My toes feel warm and toasty,” Olaree said sleepily.

“Mine too, but my back feels cold. I think the warm flew up the chimney.” Still, we huddled around the fire and enjoyed what little heat it gave out. I could barely keep my eyes open and started to nod off … until our dog, Jiggs, barked. I heard a rustling sound outside. Someone banged on the door. 

“Your house is on fire!” a neighbor yelled.