Uncle Glen, Lila and Verna at Ox Valley 1926 submitted by Viola Seitz Schiefer

Uncle Glen, Lila and Verna at Ox Valley 1926

This is a story written by Verna included in the history of her sister Lila Seitz

In the spring of 1926, about April, Papa had traded his meadow property for some land in Ox Valley over the mountain to the west. Then he bought an adjoining farm. Glen had taken horses and equipment up to prepare some of this land for spring planting. The it was decided that he would need some help. I’m not sure how the decision was reached but Lila and I were informed that we would be the relief sent to help Glen. I could help in the fields and Lila would take care of the house and cooking of meals.


Neither of us had ever been to Ox Valley. Mama took us to Enterprise, Utah in the old model T Ford. We stopped at Lund’s store to pick up a few supplies. Then head west south down a long lane. There were farms on either side of the road; when we reached the end of the lane we had to open and shut gates because the only road to Ox Valley at that time went through a man’s farm. We also had to cross a big ditch of water. The ditch was deep and full and the car needed assistance to get through. In those days we were quite expert from lots of practice of jumping out and pushing with all our strength until we felt the car begin to make headway, then we would jump on the running board and either ride there or scramble over the closed doors onto the seat of the car.  

After we left the farm and began traveling up the canyon the road was just two wheel tracks in the high brush. In fact, the brush was so high in the middle of the road that it scraped along the bottom of the car and on either side making a frightening sound. The walls of the canyon began to close in on us and make the shadows seem dark and uninviting. A cold wind moaned in the cedar trees that brought chills to my spine.   

Back home in Veyo when papa had talked about his trip, it had seemed like a big adventure. That was when I was safe and warm at home where the grass was green and the Irises were in bloom. New fresh leaves were on the trees in front of the house and had a spice, fresh fragrance every evening even frogs and toads in the pond sang us to sleep at night. I would have gladly traded this adventure to return home with Mama.  I think Lila felt the same. We did not mention this because Papa said we were to go. That was not to be questioned.

Following Papa’s instructions Mama drove the car up to the clear creek crossing. The she put us and our things on the bank of the small stream by a large currant bush. We watched as she turned the car around and hurried back down the canyon.  As the sound of the motor began to fade into the distance, we looked at each other, took a deep breath, gathered our things and started to just follow the trail as Mama had been told us to do, she said ‘you cannot get lost!’
I don’t remember anyone telling us the distance we musy travel nor the length of time it would take to reach the ranch. Neither of us had ever been there before so at each bend of the turn we expected to see a sign of the house and corrals. Always thinking we would be there soon. We didn't stop to rest but pushed on as fast as possible. We were anxious to get out the cold wind and growing darkness. If you have ever had a bad nightmare of climbing a never trail; so tired it hurt to breath but pushed on by nameless fear, you will have some idea of that evening stroll we took. Even after we reached level ground (more or less) it seemed a long time before we spotted the line of posts that indicated a fence was there and we might be nearing our destination.

At last we rounded a turn and could see the welcome sight of a dim kerosene lamp shining through the dirty window of the small cabin. The smell of a sage brush fire was like perfume and we could hear the sound of the horses busy with their evening meal. Glen was glad to see us almost as glad as we were to see him. The only other person he had seen since he had arrived in Ox Valley was Andrew Seitz who was renting land from Joe Neilson. Like Glen he was busy getting some land ready for spring planting.

Before the sun had lifted over the Mountain to the east and the air was still so cold it felt like January, Glen called me from the yard to say he had the horses were ready to go. Shivering under a pile of wraps I went out to get my instructions. The horses were stomping the ground and tossing their heads in protest too. “Do you want to plow or harrow?” Glen asked. Plowing looked easy. There was a seat on the old sulky plow where you could ride so I chose to plow. The horses seemed to know what it was all about and we started off in good shape. Before the end of the first round I’d forgotten what my fingers felt like. I was so cold I thought I couldn't hold out much longer, surely walking in back of the harrow couldn't be as bad. I thought at least I would be warm. I asked Glen to trade, he grinned and made the trade willingly. Later I came to realize why, at every step my feet would sink in the soft plowed land, dust was choking me but…I was warm. It was not long until I had shed my coat and was wandering along in a daze.
At noon when I staggered into the house; I felt have dead until I noticed how clean and warm and comfortable Lila had made that rough old cabin. She served us a hot meal that was delicious. It has always seemed to me that no matter what it was that Lila tried to do she was always able to do it better than I could. For example: when I cook it is a sometimes thing – sometimes it is good and sometimes it is not so good. It never seemed to be that way with Lila. Whatever she cooks always turns out just right.