Maud Lewis: Arrowhead Union High School- Special Ekphrastic Showcase

Team of Oxen Ploughing, by Maud Lewis (Canada) c. 1960s

Editor's Note: 
The Ekphrastic Review is always pleased to publish the ekphrastic work of creative writing students at Arrowhead Union High School, thanks to an ongoing partnership with teachers Liz Jorgensen & Terri Carnell. It is wonderful and exciting to see the amazing talent and work of students invited into ekphrasis.

**

 Growing Life
 
The smells of spring all around
Budding trees and blooming flowers fill the empty space
 
Friendly oxen hard at work
Hoping to make the farmer happy
 
Chickens frolicking in the field
No worries in the world
 
The barn stands proud and tall
A cozy home for all of the workers 
 
The sky vibrant blue with not a cloud to be seen
Like a parent, watching over everything.
​

Lilly Kolpien

**

Our Little Feet
 
As the chicken is trying to catch up with the farmer and his oxen, he realizes that life is all about catching up.
 
My little feet are trying to keep up with his.
I am falling behind, I need to catch up.
He and his oxen are walking at great speed,
for their legs are much longer.
My friends are ahead of everyone,
not forever, however, for they are falling behind.
After all, we are only chickens,
our little feet are just trying to keep up.
 
My hooves are trying to keep up with this task,
I am falling behind, I need to catch up.
We are plowing the farm.
It helps that we have a partner at our side, our lifelong friend, the human,
we could not finish this task alone.
After all, we are only oxen,
our feet are just trying to keep up.
 
My farmland is trying to keep up with this storm.
I am falling behind, I need to catch up.
My brother and sister left the farm and are doing far more successful,
they do not have much to worry about.
Business is at an all-time low and
My little feet are just trying to keep up.
 
Jackson Beneker
 
**
 
Big Red Barn 
 
In the heart of a rolling countryside, there's a big red farm that captures the essence of rural life
The scorching sun beating down on the old man who's been working on the farm since he was a little boy. Everyday the old man has had the same unbroken routine: Wake up, make coffee, feed the cows, let the chickens out, harvest the eggs, plow the field, water the flowers. 
 
Time for lunch. 
 
The old farmer loves doing most of his duties in the morning, he feels more complete throughout the day. Although he has been following the same routine for years, it brings him a sense of fulfillment. Every day for lunch he goes out to town and buys the same lunch, and eats it on the same bench. 
 
A simple sandwich, Bread, Mayo, Smoked Ham, Cheddar, and a large piece of lettuce. 
 
The bench is engraved with the memorial of a woman that someone has one once loved and cherished. the old man heads back to the big red barn returning to his precious cows. 
 
He loves creating new hats for them every year for the annual fair. The fair always has a cow competition, and the old man is ambitious to wish every single year. He has won every competition for the past seven years, all due to the lovely hats he makes the cows. 
 
You might think that the people of the town are bitter that the man wins every year but they enjoy it when he wins. It could be because they feel pity for the man, for his past, the past he doesn't remember. All the families remember the old farmer, the old farmer that does the same routine every day. 

One day, as the old farmer was crafting a new hat for Daisy, his favorite cow, a young girl approached him. She had heard the stories about the old farmer from her grandmother and was curious to meet him. Her name was Lily, and she was a bright child with a love for stories and history.

"Hello, sir," Lily said, her eyes wide with curiosity. "My grandma told me about you. She said you make the best hats for your cows. Can I help you make one?"

The old man looked at Lily, his eyes softening with a hint of a smile. "Sure, little one. I'd be happy for the company."

As they worked together, Lily asked questions about the farm, the cows, and the hats. The old farmer answered each one with patience, his voice filled with warmth and a touch of nostalgia. He told her about the fair, the competition, and the joy he felt every time he won.

"Why do you make hats for the cows?" Lily asked, her head tilted in curiosity.

The old farmer paused, his hands stilling on the hat he was working on. "It's a tradition," he said slowly. "Something that started many years ago. It brings me joy and a sense of purpose."

Lily smiled. "That's wonderful. I think traditions are important. They help us remember who we are."

The old man nodded, his eyes distant as if he were trying to remember something. "Yes, they do."

Days turned into weeks, and Lily continued to visit the old farmer. She helped him with his chores, listened to his stories, and brought a sense of youth to the farm. The townspeople noticed the change in the old man. He seemed more vibrant, more engaged with life. The routine that had once seemed monotonous now had a new spark, a new purpose.

One afternoon, as they were finishing up another hat, Lily's grandmother came to the farm. She watched the two of them with a gentle smile, her eyes glistening with tears. She approached the old man and took his hands in hers.

"Do you remember me?" she asked softly.

The old farmer looked at her, his eyes searching her face. "I think I do," he said slowly. "You look familiar."

She smiled. "I'm Mary. We used to dance at the fair. You made me a flower crown once, many years ago."

The old man's eyes widened with recognition. "Mary," he whispered. "I remember now."

Mary nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I've missed you, old friend."

The old farmer smiled, his heart swelling with warmth and love. "I've missed you too, Mary."

From that day on, the old farmer's routine changed. He still did his chores, made his hats, and cared for his cows, but he also spent time with Mary and Lily, creating new memories and cherishing the old ones. The past that had once been a blur now came into focus, filled with love, friendship, and the enduring spirit of tradition. And every year at the fair, the old farmer continued to win the cow competition, not just because of his hats, but because of the love and community that surrounded him.
​
Kourtney Calmes
 
**
 
The Way of Life 
 
It was a Saturday spring morning in the fields of Nebraska and the sun was shining. I was about ready to head out into the fields to plant some beans with the sulky plow. The house was completely quiet because the rest of the family was out on a family vacation. Every step I took, I could hear the boards creaking. 
 
As I opened the door, the squeaking sound was loud and the wind blew right in the door. On the other side of the road, I noticed something so small it was like the size of a needle. So I went over and investigated and saw a sign that said “SOLD.” On the sign, The company was called More Efficient Farming. My heart stopped beating because I was wondering if my farm was next. 
 
So I went on with my day like any other using the sulky plow. This is the way that my family had used their whole life and loved doing it. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else because all of the other equipment was so expensive. As I was plowing, the chickens were in the grass, scratching to find the worms. The whole time I was plowing, the only thing I could hear was buck-buck-buck. 
 
As I was plowing, I saw another farmer walking up the driveway. To myself, I was thinking I had never seen this guy before and was wondering what he wanted. He then began to walk closer and closer to me. “Hello, my name is Sam and I have recently bought your neighbour's property across the street. I am wondering what it would take for me to buy your land because your way of farming is taking way too long. There are better ways to do it and you can make a lot more money.” I thought to myself in disbelief that this could not be happening to me. 
 
I could not even speak. Sam was talking to me like I was a brick wall. He was offering me a bunch of big numbers that I thought did not exist. I then began to open my mouth and began to speak. “No, we are not interested in selling because my family and I have been here for 25 years. Although we do not have the equipment that makes it easier, our family's way is the way we would like to keep it.” He then walked down the driveway with a blue cloud over his head because he knew we had the best land. 
 
I continued to plow because I had to finish before my family got back from their vacation. I had no regrets when I told him no because it was a family tradition that I would like to continue. I had a smile on my face as big as a lollipop for the rest of the time for plowing. I then sprinkled the little bean seeds into the sections the sulky plow made. 
 
From that moment on, I loved to ask other families on what their favorite traditions are. My family of course is hand plowing and I am proud to tell them the moment that I stood up for my family. Traditions are something that keep a family together and breaking one small thing, it can mess with the future. 
 
Hayden Russ
 
**
 
The Red Barn
 
Navigation was never my strong suit. That’s why, we would be partnered up for our scavenger hunt. 
 
The cousins lined up, ready to begin chasing through the family cabin’s woods. We’d been tasked with finding ten items, including taking a picture of a caterpillar.
 
My partner, Sophie, and I had found ourselves buried deep within the trenches of the forest. Still, no caterpillar to be found. With time running short, and tough competition, we’d need to split up. 
 
After spotting a suspicious green clump on a stump, I meandered a few steps away from Sophie. Ugh, I thought. It was only moss. I turned around to face Sophie, but only trees peered back.
 
I turned and turned. The forest’s ambiguity hypnotizing me. 
 
I called for Sophie. Pleading for any response or a crinkling yelp of foliage. Nothing. 
 
The panic set in: I was alone. I was lost. 
 
Finally, I spotted a clearing, the sun streaming through a narrow opening.  
 
I walked over and peered through nature’s narrow window. 
 
Only it was not the scene I’d hoped would appear. 
 
In front of me, unaware of my existence loomed a strong bear-like man. The late 20s, built, overalls-wearing man, shaking dirt from a rug. Every nerve in me pinched. The hairs across my skin stood at guard. My brain screamed, “STRANGER DANGER” and my body yearned me to run far, far away. 
 
And yet, my feet were paralyzed against the ground. I observed him for a few moments more. It went against everything I was ever taught, but he was the only source of hope I had. I mustered all the bravery in my body, and 8-year-old me stepped into the clearing. 
 
“Hello?” My shaky voice was too distant to hear. “HELP!” I pushed closer. The man looked over, confusion and concern washing over his face. His eyebrows crinkled down at me. 
 
“Help. I need help, please” I mustered, still keeping my distance. “I’m lost. I’m up at my family’s cabin and I was on a scavenger hunt… I just need to call my mom,” My voice breaking, tears and fear welling up, waiting to crash like a wave. 
 
“Okay, okay. Uh, my phone is inside, charging. Why don’t you follow me inside.”
 
Panic onset. I couldn’t go inside. I’d listened to the stories, kidnapping, the scary white vans. I knew the signs, and this was NOT good. Yet, he almost seemed more scared than I was.
 
Still, 8-year-old me was panicking. But, she also knew Tae-Kwon-Doe. So, a naive little girl shuffled inside the strange man’s permanent trailer home.
 
I typed the 10-digit phone number into the phone, standing as close as possible to the door. For what felt like an eternity, the phone dialed and rang, and dialed and rang. Then, my mom’s familiar voice came on. Only it was her voicemail. Thoughts swirled in my head, waves of panic crashing over me. Little me was internally screaming every made-up obscenity she could. Mom always answers her phone. “Well, we have spotty service ‘round here,” the man offered, “I could take you in my truck if you know where your place is.”
 
“No, no, uhh, no.” Uh, uh. Lesson 101: how to get kidnapped. I stumbled out the small door, retreated a few steps, and turned around. 
 
That’s when I saw it: the familiar red barn atop the hill. Freshly painted trim, and my uncle’s 4-Runner parked outside. “Thank you, sir! Thank you!” for not murdering me, I thought. “Thank you, I know that barn! That’s one of my uncle’s! I’ve got it, I know how to get back!” I shouted, not bothering to look back. 
 
I booked it up the hill and through the rigid tall grass and dense weeds. The adrenaline carried me up the hill; although later I would find scratches traveling down my legs. 
 
I reached the barn and peered inside. The skeleton structure of the pole barn gleamed back, but no one was inside. 
 
I set out to the trail. I rode here on the ATV yesterday, but I wasn’t yet familiar with the new trails. There was a web of trails between me and the main barn, but I stuck to my gut and winded through the trails. I heard crunches of fall leaves and slowed my pace. I looked out through the trees and saw my uncle.
 
“Uncle Brian! Uncle Brian, wait!” I yelled while running towards him. I met him and finally caught my breath. 
 
We walked together and I asked if he was heading to the main barn. He was, thank God. 
 
We trekked through the trail's end, my aunt’s wide eyes welcoming me, “Oh thank god you’re back, we were all looking for you. Let’s go find your mom.” I quietly thanked the red barn and followed. 
 
In the end, we did not find the caterpillar, or finish the scavenger hunt. But, I didn’t need the items anymore, I had found my family. 
 
Madeline Dempsey
 
​