The Reindeer Keeper

I knew if I did not make the banana bread yesterday that I had been planning on making, the bananas would be beyond rotten. They were already rotten enough. So, out came the pans and ingredients. The oven was on preheat. And my son Brian, was working on his latest piece of art on the kitchen counter. While he has two art desks, he sometimes prefers the kitchen counter because of the windows. So, as I was getting ready to mix the ingredients, he asked me what I was going to make. He loves banana bread, so his interest perked. As I began peeling the bananas, he told me they were rotten. I told him my grandmother (nicknamed Giddy) always said the rottener the bananas, the better, the tastier the bread. I told him it was her recipe that I was using. This led to talking about my grandmother and her woodstove and her recipes, her aprons, her bowl that I was putting the rotten bananas in. "That is Giddy's bowl?" he asked. "Yes. Maybe she used it when making her banana brea...

Take a ride down most any country road in northern New York and you will see at one time or another, cornstalks lining up like soldiers out in the fields. Some of those fields seem to stretch as far as the horizon. Growing up about a mile out on one of those country roads, playing outside with my cousin whenever possible, cornstalks would on occasion become part of our pretending, especially in the summertime. There was a field adjacent to my grandparents' farmhouse and on certain days when our pretending was on overload, that field full of cornstalks would work its way into our adventure-like the time we found our way out to the middle of that field. Then plopped down and made a cornstalk house. That meant bending some stalks. Crushing a few to the ground for cornstalk tables & chairs. Crushing a few more for cornstalk beds with cornstalk pillows. We would pretend our cornstalk house had windows from which we could "spy on the adults." We were certain they never saw ...

  With the geese flying and the leaves turning, Autumn is upon us with all of its splendor. And now with those leaves falling, walking through them is as enjoyable as it was when growing up.  Besides walking through them when growing up, raking them was just as fun. My cousin and I would rake them into a huge pile. Then we would divide them into smaller piles. From those smaller piles we would construct leaf houses using our rakes as our tools. After forming leaf walls into place, we would divide the house into rooms. The bedrooms would be complete with leaf beds complete with leaf pillows. The kitchen would include a leaf table with matching leaf chairs. We played in our leaf houses until the wind blew them away. When outside the other day, watching my grandson raking leaves that had fallen and then jumping into the huge pile of leaves he created, I had the strangest thought.  The best Toy Company ever is the one created by Mother Nature, if that was ever possible. When ...

  I hardly ever wore crinolines under my skirts way back when wearing crinolines underneath skirts was the fad. Not participating in a fad was unusual for me. After all, I ran to a department store located in the downtown of where I lived the moment Sonny and Cher's "I Got You Babe" grabbed my attention. I had to have bellbottoms and short-sleeved ribbed sweaters. I had to grow my hair down to my waist. But crinolines were a different story. I didn't like all of that netting. I didn't like my skirts pushed way out in front of me even when most of my friends wore crinolines all the time.  However, there are most always exceptions to most anything-even when it comes to wearing crinolines if crinolines aren't your thing. For me, that exception came when my grandmother made me a velvet green dress to wear to a Christmas party. It was going to be held in a grand old hotel in that downtown where I lived. My date was a freshman at a nearby college. He was so cute. We...

  I am happy to say I can again attach photos to my Blogger posts. That means I will be back posting more often. To me, a photo enhances a post so here we go again. As summer drifts into fall small changes in the landscape are becoming obvious. The clouds seem fuller. Closer to the earth. Their presence speak of the magic taking place. Shades of green seem to be creating a blanket of softness reminiscent of a favorite old sofa welcoming you back with its comfortable old cushions. Most trees, except for a few poplar trees, remain dressed in their leaves. Most of those leaves, except for the poplar leaves, have yet to change color. Those that have, turned to a mellow yellow.  Thanks to the wind, those mellow yellow leaves are spreading themselves about the field. And because of the wind, all the surrounding poplar trees with their precious yellow leaves sound like violins playing out in that magical field, changing once again. Mother Nature certainly out did herself again, turni...

PLEASE NOTE: (I am still unable to include a photo with a Post. I was waiting to post again when the problem was fixed but I have decided to get back to posting my little stories. I hope you enjoy. Photos will soon return.) HOME:  Most of us will go through   life having more than a few places we will call Home. As life goes on, those places will remain with us no matter where we go. That is because home is defined in our hearts. Home tugs at us. Like a bird in its nest, we know when we are there. Home wraps us up in warmth like an old, tattered quilt. Home keeps the world away. Home allows us to be still. I have a few places I call home. The one that comes to mind more often than not was my first home. The home where I grew up before we moved to the country when I was in the third grade. I remember every nook and cranny of that clapboard house situated along a lane. I can still feel the 2nd step going down into my bedroom move whenever I was coming or going. I can still hear ...