... It is said that life is a struggle and if we did not know it before, we surely notice it here. It is a struggle for existence, a struggle against nature's fury, the unyielding soil, the harsh climate, a struggle against the loss of culture's benefits: church, school, parish, community.

Here it's still so desolate and frightening on the wild prairie. It is like the ocean. We are a tiny midpoint in a circle. You will understand that it looks terrifying.

My duty will be to think as little about myself as possible and to do all for him [her husband] and the children.

It has been extremely cold lately. It is small comfort to get up early these mornings, as everything is frozen, even the tea kettle on the stove, the milk, the bread, and the water pail beside the range is frozen solid ... When my husband is away, there are the cows, pigs and chickens to look after. I suppose in itself this is not so much for the housewife [homemaker] to do, but when all the feed, oats and hay is in a stack that resembles an iceberg that I have to climb on top of to get anything out, when the water freezes as soon as it comes from file pump, when you have to walk through 2 feet [60 cm] of snow with a biting wind and -20F [-29'C], then it is almost overwhelming. But I have never regretted that I came over here.

There was nothing else to do!

Johanne Frederiksen, a Danish settler in Saskatchewan

Adapted from Jorgen Dahlies’ in The Settlement of the West, Howard Palmer, ed. (Calgary: University of Calgary Press, 1977), pp

.....in those days you just had to make the most of what you had, we had no money, and if we wanted something, we'd just have to look around, and see, what we could make it from.

The woman on the prairies had to be able to do anything! I used to spin all my, own wool, and knit my family's sweaters `and their stockings, and, their mitts, and all that. We had no deep freeze, of course, so we canned all the vegetables and fruit and that. We canned the meat too.

With the clothing, that was something else. I patched till my fingers were sore. We just kept using things, over and over again.

I did most of my sewing by lamp light after put the children to bed. I sewed in the nights till my eyes would sting. Then it was time for bed.

Mrs. Carl Tellanius, A Prairie Homesteader

Adapted from Bill McNeil, Voice of the, Pioneer (Toronto: Macmillan or Canada, 1978), pp 36-39