Saga of the Sanpitch Volume 17, 1985 - Sanpete County

Sources: Family records;
History of Andrew Thomson, first son of Dorthea Anderson & Thomas Nielson, written by grandson Woodruff Thomson.
Memorial Services for Dorthea A. Thompson
GROUNDCHERRY DRESSES
Ruth D. Scow
94 West 400 South
Manti, UT 84642
Non-Professional Division
First Place Short Story
The kitchen door opened and Minerva called, "Hurry, May, Papa has the oxen yoked, and as soon as he
gets the calves back in their pen, he is ready to go to the farm. He wants to get there before the day gets too
hot . "
May hurriedly planted a kiss on Mother's cheek, grabbed her sunbonnet and the sack lunch, bolted for
the door, and raced down the path to join her two sisters, who were already seated in the wagon. Soon Papa
was in the wagon, too. Waving his whip above the oxen's back, he talked to Bill and Ball, as he guided them
southward along the road to the farm. It was a beautiful day. Golden sunshine and billowy white clouds
floated across the wide expanse of sky. Sego lilies, Indian paint brushes, daisies and other wild flowers grew
among the brushes alongside the road, but the girls seemed unaware of all this beauty. They had a problem,
a worrisome problem. They needed new dresses, which Mama said they couldn't afford. There was no money
even to buy the cloth.
Last night, after supper, they had sat on the kitchen steps and talked and wondered and planned as to
what could be done so they could earn enough extra money for the much needed dresses. It was then that
Papa came up with an idea. . .pick and dry groundcherries. All the fruit trees planted in Manti were still too
young to bear fruit„ If the cherries were picked and dried, later they could be soaked in water, sweetened with
molasses or sugar and then cooked to make an excellent jam. Papa was sure this dried fruit could be sold. .
.and their monies. . .new dresses!
Groundcherries grew wild in patches of bushes all along the roadside south of Manti. The plant was an
annual, which seeded itself from year to year. Each plant was perhaps 18 inches to two feet in height and had
an abundance of green leaves, which hid plump, six-sided, veined pods. Inside each pod was a small greenish
cherry, about the size of a marble. To get the cherry, one had to break or pop the pod, from which the one
small cherry could then be taken.
Papa stopped the wagon near a large patch of bushes and helped the girls unload a wooden bucket,
various baskets, and other paraphernalia under a nearby cedar tree. As he was leaving, he called out, "Take
care of yourselves until I get back this afternoon. Watch out for snakes, and don't smash the bushes. You can
sit in the shade of this tree and pod the cherries when you get tired. The important thing is to get the pods
picked while you are here." And with that he drove out of sight.
The girls' enthusiasm ran high, but as the sun became more hot they moved more slowly. Stooping
to pick the pods was back-breaking work, but soon the girls had a bucket filled with pods. The friendly cedar
tree furnished shade, and the girls rested while they opened the pods and dislodged the one small cherry
inside. At first, the cherries rolled around in the bottom of the bucket, but soon more were added and the
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