A Blessed Christmas, and the Following Days

It has been several days since last I wrote. Christmas Day has come and gone, and another year is nearing an end. Christmas, as it always has in the past, has proven to be a magical day. Not magical in the sense of miraculous happenings or unlooked for blessings, but magical in the sense that it was very enjoyable. As is our tradition, we began on Christmas Eve first by decorating our tree. We strung lines of popcorn, that Isaac-Albert has been working very hard on the past several days. On top, we placed the wooden angel that had belonged to my father. The tree looked a little bare considering Abigail no longer allows us to use candles.*
After decorating, we read the Christmas story from the gospels. Will commented that the people in the Bible talked funny. I told him that Santa Claus had a very strong psychic connection to our Lord, and if Will were to say anything to upset Jesus on His birthday, Santa was sure to hear about it.
After the Christmas story, the children were sent to bed.
We all awoke with the sun the next morning, the children anxious to see what St. Nicholas had brought them. The children first went to their stockings. Each one had in it, an orange, a candy stick of peppermint, and for Will and Elizabeth, a shiny nickel each. (Abby and I feel Isaac-Albert is too young to be trusted with money just yet.)
After the stockings, each of the children opened their gifts. Will received a new fishing pole, and also a hammer and lots of tacks. For Elizabeth there was a new bonnet as well as a white dress with a pink sash. Isaac-Albert received a sock that Abigail had darned, and from me, a stick that looked remarkably like an Indian spear, only much smaller and slightly flimsier. Sadly, Isaac-Albert had a tremendous fight with himself regarding which foot to wear his new sock on, and soon poked himself in the eye with his new 'Indian Spear'. I had no choice but to take it, break it in half while he watched, and sent him to his room.
Abigail was very happy with her gift. It was a brand new butter churn, made especially for Abby by a little old Dutch woman in Pennsylvania. The cover is lined with a fine cotton upholstery, and the plunger has grooves to fit Abby's fingers to reduce splinters. "So this is why you needed molds of my hands", she exclaimed upon examining her gift.
I received a fine new shirt and a pair of work gloves from Abby. Will carved me a small horse, and Elizabeth made me a new straw hat. Isaac-Albert drew me a picture. It wasn't very good.
After we finished opening our presents, we had a wonderful dinner prepared by Abigail, and after dinner, we played games. We started with an exciting game of "What is it that I am thinking about", and then played "Keep the very warm potato away from the hungry Irish child." We let Isaac-Albert join us for that and used the orange from his stocking for the potato. His fake tears were very convincing.
The days following Christmas have been just as joyous if not as magical. Yesterday morning we received a surprise visit from Mr. Fisher's eldest son Charles, inviting our family to a celebration at his home on the Eve of New Year's Day. There will be a feast, games, and a gift exchange. Aside from the frustration of having to buy non-gender specific gifts with a .10 limit I am looking forward to this gathering. The Plimpton's and the Sidcott's have also been invited and this will be a fine way to get better acquainted with those we will be sharing our journey with.

*Three years ago, the family had Christmas at the home of Jebediah's widowed mother. Per Jebediah's request, they decorated the tree with several lit candles that Jebediah insisted remain lit all night to signify the love of the family. Christmas morning the family stood looking over the smoldering remains of Mrs. Gunstra's home, thankful to be alive.

The Building Anticipation of Yuletime

Winter continues on. There is still plenty of snow on the ground, and the almanac's outlook does not look entirely hopeful. One blessing we will surely be thankful for is a white Christmas. However, Abigail and I are both anxiosly awaiting gifts we have ordered through the general store nearly a month ago. I'm sure they have come in, but it hasn't been possible to get into town yet. It hasn't snowed in 4 days though, and I feel confident thatI'll be able to get through tomorrow. We both hope the children will be happy with the gifts we've gotten for them. I am also excited about the gift I have gotten for Abby. I will not write it down here until after Christmas arrives to ensure that peering eyes do not discover what is in store.
Apart from the Christmas preparations, there is little to be done around the house. There are the usual chores, but as long as the weather continues as it has we are for the most part still confined to the indoors. With the anxiousness that always accompanies a day like Christmas, the week before Yuletide can be a very anxious one.

A Day, Resting in the Arms of Mother Nature

The constant snowfall has finally abated, and with a chance to finally leave the house, Abigail, the children, and myself harnessed up the sleigh, and headed out to find the perfect Christmas tree. This time always means a lot to me. It is a chance for our family to commune with nature and to remember what is really important. We plowed through the snow for close to two hours before we arrived at the edge of the woods. When we stopped we got out to continue on foot. We left Isaac-Albert behind with the sleigh despite his cries of protest. He wanted to "be apart of the family", but we needed someone to keep a lookout for wolves, bears, or native Americans, and Isaac-Albert, considering his condition, is very adapted for a role as a lookout. In fact it is one of the few things he can do without making me cringe.
The remaining four of us set off into the woods to find a tree fit for a Gunstra family Christmas. It was only after an hour and a half did we find it; a great Eastern White Pine. It must have been 60 feet high, centuries old, a survivor of fires and storms. A testament to mother nature. That of course is far to big to fit in our humble home. We cut down the majestic giant, then lopped about six and a half feet off the top to take home leaving the rest lying on the forest floor. If I have a chance, I will eventually come back for the lumber.
From the middle of the tree, I cut a section out to use as a Yule log. It will be burnt throughout the season. When it is gone, the ashes will be force fed to the cows and chickens to ensure their productivity over the next year.
While cutting the Yule log we stumbled upon a family of squirrels, awoken from their winter slumber by the leveling of their home.* They were clearly dazed. Before they could gain their surroundings, Will and I killed each of them. They will make an excellent meal tonight. We also removed a great deal of nuts that had been hoarded in their nest.
With Abigail carrying the log, and Will and Elizabeth dragging our tree, I foraged our path back to the sleigh. It was getting dark when we came to the sleigh. Isaac-Albert lay asleep, shining, frozen tears still on his face. He would have looked angelic if there hadn't been two of him. Unfortunately I'll have to beat him for failing to complete his lookout assignment.

*Squirrels do not hibernate.

Battling the First Stages of Cabin Fever

Winter has come. Snow fell throughout the weekend and by Sunday we had to get the sleigh out to get to church. Until the first snow of the season, life can be busy, making sure there is enough to survive the winter. But after the snow falls life slows down considerably. Most days the children won't be able to get to school, and I will not have any business. So for a couple months we spend all most all of our time in doors. We try to find different ways to pass the time. The children get ahead in their studies. We read the scriptures. Abigail and Elizabeth make scarves and hats to fend off the cold, while me and the boys whittle. The children have their games such as tiddlywinks and ball-in-a-cup, Abigail has her cooking, and I have my fiddle. Still, these can be trying times, especially for Isaac-Albert, who has a tendency to get even stranger during the winter months. This morning he had one of his odd fights. This time he started claiming he hadn't gotten enough to eat for breakfast, and then changed his mind saying he was full. Eventually he started hitting himself and yelling so we locked him in the pantry for a couple hours.
I have a feeling that with the ravings of Isaac-Albert paired with the anticipation of the trip, this winter will be a long and tedious one.

Looking Past the Coming Winter

Now that plans have been made it seems there is nothing left to do but wait. Verily we have much to do; supplies to procure, purchases to be made, and things to be sold, but with the onset of winter, much must be left until warmer weather arrives. And so, for now, life continues as it has. I am, for the first time, glad to be short of business, allowing me to spend much of the day working on our own wagons, and making many valuable tools that we will need. We must also give some attention to the Christmas holiday which is swiftly approaching. Despite the need to save money for the trip ahead of us, Abigail and I would like to give the children a happy Christmas.
Perhaps, considering there is not much to be told now, this may be a good time to fully introduce the other families that will be traveling the trail with us.
Henry Plimpton, as I have said before works in the post office in our town. He and his wife Catherine moved here from Virginia almost 12 years ago. They have two children. James Stewart is 13, and Narcissa is 10. They also have a dog named Beck.
Sylvester Sidcott was elected just this past year as the county coroner. I have noticed him at church, but until now have never really made his acquaintance. His wife Dorcas is a charming woman. Both seem very Godly and more than able to make this trip. Their son Ben, who is 16, I feel will be a great asset on our journey. Their two daughters Beth and Ruth, who are 14 and 12 respectively, are very well mannered young ladies.
I still do not know much about Fisher Jones. As I have mentioned before, he and his wife Lem, which we are told is short for Lementine, moved to our town roughly 6 months ago. We have not yet dined with the Joneses, and all I know is what I have learned from Fisher and Henry, who seems to know more about him than I do. He has nine children; 4 boys and 5 girls. In all honesty, I am ratherish anxious about the prospect of having nine extra mouths to feed. I have no doubt the boys are strapping lads, but the girls make me hesitant. This journey will be long and difficult, not to mention dangerous. Despite my doubtfulness I must have faith that the Lord will see us through.
I am encouraged in a way by the Joneses. They too have an unfortunate offspring. Their son Martin it seems, believes he has no legs.* Fisher says he never sleeps more than a few hours and staggers here and there believing he can fly, telling whomever will listen how he lost his legs. Me and Abigail think it will be very beneficial to Isaac-Albert to have someone of his own kind to relate to. Ironically, the Jones's middle daughter Emiline lost her left hand in what Fisher called "an unfortunate boating mishap". It seems that she carries on very well and that Mrs. Jones has crafted for her a makeshift hand of an old hickory log and 3 pairs of shears. It seems to be a great source of pride for Mr. Jones to have a daughter with six fingers.
The Jones children are from eldest to youngest: Charles, Avery, Susanna, Rosanne, Mary, Martin, Emiline, Joanna, and Fisher Jr.
In all truthfulness, in my brief dealings with Mr. Jones he strikes me as rather queer. But as the Good Book says, 'Judge not, and ye shall not be judged'.

* This condition will later be named Cotard's Syndrome after the French psychiatrist Jules Cotard who first noted it in 1882. It is a dilusional nihilism in which the patient believes they have lost possessions, a part of the body, or that they have died. Other versions cause the patient to deny the existence of people or things around them. It is often seen in manic-depressives.

Gunstra, Plimpton, Sidcott, and Jones: Companions of Common Purpose

Henry and I have taken the opportunity these past 3 days to meet with several men in the community and make our plans known to them as well as extending an invitation to join us on our trek. Unfortunately, we did not receive the response we had hoped for. Misters Shepardson, Trask, and Hamilton refused, saying that they were content with the lives God has given them. When Henry proposed our idea to William Micawber at the bank Friday afternoon, William refused to hear him out, and Mr. Unwin went so far as to tell me, "I would not make the trip into the West with a family so obviously in Almighty God's disfavor for all the potatoes in Ireland.*
Henry and myself were both very disheartened by the responses of these men, but our luck soon changed. After church this Lord's Day, Henry and myself met with the last two men we had considered for our journey. After discussion, both men consented. It seems both had been considering a move. I was surprised at the swiftness of the acceptance of Sylvester Sidcott, the county Coroner. Being an elected official, I was surprised that he would be so willing to leave the area, but he remarks that he never has enough to do.
As for Fisher Jones, he is anxious for a new audience. He claims that Missouri is the home of the most unappreciative people he has ever met and referred to it several times as "the deathbed of theatre". Neither I nor Henry knows much about him. He moved into town nigh on 6 months ago, and began performing a one man show loosely based on Charles Dicken's novel Nicholas Nickleby entitled "Little Nicky" Friday evenings at 4 o'clock, with two shows on Saturdays. It has received mixed reviews thus far. Neither Henry nor myself hath seen the show, but we are both encouraged to have an entertainer amongst us. We both feel we will have need of entertainment before out travels reach an end.

*In 1845, due to destructive farming methods, and the appearance of a fungus known as "the Blight", Ireland experienced a disastrous Potato famine known as the "Great Famine" or the "Great Hunger" which resulted in a massive emigration of the Irish to Great Britain, the United States, Canada, and Australia.

Dinner With the Plimptons

I sent a message with William today on his way to the schoolhouse asking Henry Plimpton if he and his wife Catherine would care to dine with us this evening. William came home from school with Henry's reply that he would indeed come. Isaac-Albert arrived home from school crying. Abigail and I have learned that in circumstances such as this one, it's best to just ignore it.It has thus far been a mild winter, and although very cold, we have not yet had a substantial snowfall. Henry and Catherine arrived shortly after 5 o'clock. They had left their 2 children at home, but Catherine did bring a fresh baked blackberry pie. After dinner and dessert, we sent the children off to their studies so that we could discuss the real reason that we had invited the Plimptons to dinner. We eased into the subject by first discussing the recent happenings in town. Henry runs the post office, and is also a member of the town board. He is very involved in the politics of the community and is quite an influential member. I hoped to get Henry to begin divulging his own misgivings about life here in Missouri. It worked and soon Henry brought up the need for change. At this point I told him of I and Abigail's plans to move. Him and Catherine listened until I was finished and then exchanged a knowing glance between the two of them. Henry admitted that the same idea had been forming in his mind lately too, and if Abigail and I were serious about leaving, they too would come on this adventure.The remainder of the evening was spent discussing plans. There is safety in numbers and Henry and I both feel that two more families would increase the chances of success without making the attainment of enough supplies an impossibility. We compiled a list of families that we feel would be fit to come on this journey and an advantage to have with us. The list turned out as follows:
Cain Shepardson, Physician, Wife Tess, 3 boys 2 girls
Adam Trask, Carpenter, Wife Sarah, 2 boys 2 girls
Samuel Hamilton, Hardware Store Owner, Wife Milly, 3 boys
Seth Unwin, Chef, Wife Beth, 2 boys 1 girl
William Micawber, Banker, 2boys 2 girls
Sylvester Sidcott, County Coroner, Wife Dorcas, 1 boy 2 girls
Fisher Jones, Aspiring Actor, Wife Lem, 4 boys 5 girls
This week we will focus on convincing these men to join our expedition beginning at the top of the list. We also discussed a trip to Jefferson City in the near future to get supplies.