Elizabeth slipped out the back door of the farmhouse
that had been home to her family for almost three genera-
tions now. The fresh morning hours were her favorite time
of day, and May was her favorite month. She flung out her
arms to embrace the dew-sparkled morning filled with bird-
song.
Nothing could make her heart sing with more joy than
the dawn chorus. No matter how full of hard work the day
ahead loomed, she would have these moments to cherish.
And in 1929 on a farm in Kuna, Idaho, hewn out of re-
claimed sagebrush desert, with a large family--soon to be
larger--the work never ceased.
She walked toward the big cottonwood tree in the cor-
ner of the yard. Her mother would be out in a minute. They
would do a gardening chore, then hurry in to finish cooking
breakfast, and the busy pace would begin. As the oldest
daughter, Elizabeth had always been her mother's right-
hand helper, just as Clarey, her twin brother, was their
father's. An especially clear warble trilled above her head,
and Elizabeth looked up into the thick, green branches, a
smile at the corners of her usually firm mouth.
The screen door banged behind her, and she turned
to extend her smile to her mother, walking across the
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