I’ve heard and read about the “dust bowl” years here on the prairie, about hoppers that could clean off a 160-acre field in a day, about horses and cows forced to eat the prickly Russian thistles because they were the only green thing growing anywhere, about the farmers who took jobs in the northern “parkland” part of the province to earn enough to get by for another year. So I made up this diary.
Prairie Farm Girl’s Diary — Summer 1934
A west wind blew the hoppers in
two days ago.
They cleaned the wheat crop
clear down to the ground
Dad went north to a lumber camp
so we can afford our grub and heat
and feed for the horses and cow –
unless it rains.
A stream of clouds went over
on their way to rain somewhere else,
Tom and I are minding the place
while Dad’s away and Mom’s in a dither
about all the dust.
She says we’re leaving this drought-deviled land
soon as Dad gets back.