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SKETCHES of EARLY
HIGH PRAIRIE
by Nelia Binford Fleming

 

Contents
Title Page
Introduction
Early History of the Territory and State of Washington
Klickitat County
High Prairie
The First White Settlers of High Prairie
We Come West
Riveted Shoes
Our First Winter in Washington
Our First Christmas
Doc Lee Brings Tobacco
Spring Time – Wild Flowers
Only Three Months of School
A Pony Colt
Water
Church
Indians
Our First School Days in Klickitat
Rev Knifes the Dog
My Toys
Nowitcah
Fruit
Home Made Corn Meal
The Lord Will Provide
Pete Sleeps With His Boots On
Revvie's April Fool
Home Made Shoes
Billyack
Father Gets Lost
Rattlesnakes
Pitch
Old Gabe
School Days
We Steal a Pie
Planting Trees
Watermelon Feed
Dolls Baptized
Escaping the Wind Storm
Mr. Pittman's Wood
The Putman Family
The Berrys Come West
The Rothrock Home
Auntie French
Skip Right Along and Pray As We Go
Entertainment
You Gonna Ford This?
Traveling Down the River
Housecleaning
Rev Goes to See His Girl
Tragedy
A Child in the Well
Wash Up There
We Entertained Strangers
Crossing the Columbia on the Ice
The Locoed Horse
Hauling Wheat
Goodbye


GOODBYE

THIS summer (1949) 1 visited High Prairie.

There are the same wonderful views, the same steep hills, some of the same old houses, and I do believe some of the same old wire fences that were there when our family moved away, some forty years ago. I didn't see the old Pitman house. The old Putman house and the old Rothrock house had both burned to the ground. The Bill Brown house was gone, as was also the Methodist Church. The Varker house, the Seifert house, and the Plummer house were fallen into decay.

And what a change in farming! Instead of a family on almost every quarter section of land, the whole area is farmed by a very few men, using up-to-date machinery, and with the most scien methods. Instead of a few acres of struggling wheat fields, there are now acres and acres of green alfalfa.

Nola and I visited the old Tate home, where Wallie and I had lived, and where our children were born. Instead of dipping water with a pail, there are now water pipes everywhere, and the yard was full of flowers. In the kitchen we saw an electric range and refrigerator. In the yard there was an old fashioned yellow rose bush, which had spread into a small wilderness of rose bushes. And the roses were blooming merrily. I feel sure that my Mother planted that rose there.

Dear old High Prairie!
Home of my childhood and youth;
Home of romance and tragedy;
Home of the coyote and rattlesnake;
Home of high hills, of strong winds,
Of beating storms, of wild flowers
And endless canopies of blue sky.
Home!