Word: delair
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...year-old frame farmhouse, tall, strapping Ralph Delair crawled out of bed at 5:30, pulled on long underwear, two heavy shirts, ankle-high shoes, blue denim overalls, two sweaters, a thick mackinaw, a battered felt hat. He started a roaring wood fire in the nickel-plated kitchen range, touched a match to ash and hackberry logs in the living-room fireplace...
...Ralph Delair milked the cow, there came another odor: food sizzling in an iron skillet. Farmer Delair's plump, handsome wife had breakfast waiting: bacon, eggs straight up, orange juice, oatmeal, hot biscuits, home-churned butter, jam she had put up last fall, a big pot of strong black coffee-a big breakfast for a big day's work...
After the meal, while dishes rattled in the kitchen, Farmer Delair smoked the new pipe his wife gave him for a Valentine. As the sky grew lighter, he went outside with son Ralph Jr., who had stayed home from Ople High School to help Hired Hand James Dieker...
...hour's work; by noon, when they went back for dinner of steak & potatoes, they had nearly finished some fields. By week's end a full 200 acres would be sown to oats-oats that would be harvested in July, fed to the sleek steers that Ralph Delair ships off to the markets...
...Ralph Delair stayed in the fields until the sun had sunk over the low hills in the west. Then he milked his cow again, fed his stock, covered the tractors for the night, ate a supper of roast beef, potatoes, biscuits. When the dark came, he was in the old-fashioned sitting room off the kitchen, smoking his pipe, listening to the radio, reading what old William Allen White had to say about weather and politics in the Emporia Gazette. At 9:30 he was in bed, sound asleep, not hearing the stinging Kansas wind whipping the darkened house...