The Reindeer Keeper

  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...

Remember the fun of coloring the clowns or the puppies and kittens and all the simple artwork in those coloring books when growing up? There was nothing better than sitting down with your Crayola crayons and your favorite coloring books and spending time simply coloring. Between the unforgettable scent of the crayons and the many choices of basic artwork in those coloring books, the time spent coloring was magical. And quite creative. Very creative. Just think. With your Crayola crayons you could color the sun pink, the grass blue, kittens green and puppies red. Stars could be purple. Bananas could be orange. Whatever your imagination chose, those familiar objects could change their familiar colors and dress up like its Halloween, disguising themselves just like we do. Summer is a never-ending coloring book with its pages beautifully colored by Mother Nature in shades of primary and secondary colors. Some soft. Some bold. With the warmth of the sun, summer's colors seem richer. The...

  I noticed the little tree set off in a field whenever I'd go by. Despite the weather, there it would be glowing in shades of gold. Seemingly so proud to be out there with the bigger trees behind him. Standing there as tall as he could, straight as a pin, spreading his beautiful branches as if to say, "Welcome Fall. Welcome Everyone. Enjoy your day." It dawned on me how happy the little tree was to be there. Happy to be feeling the wind and the sun. Embracing the rain. Enduring the wind. Watching the critters run around and the cars go by. In some ways, the little tree is actually the tallest tree in that field. It has nothing to do with his height. It has everything to do with his presence. With his roots buried firmly under the ground, his leaves getting ready to fly away like grown children departing the nest, he stands assured. No frills. No pretenses. Proud of the bark and branches and leaves and roots he comes from. Proud of the stories they tell. Respectful of th...

  These two caught my eye as I drove by. The goat was following the horse. Something made me turn around and stop my car. I watched as the horse led the goat from one spot to another. When the goat was lagging behind, the horse would stop and wait, turning around to see where the goat was, patiently waiting for his friend. They seemed to be on a mission. I got the feeling this was not a chance meeting. They appeared to have a close relationship. Walking about that field looked to be a routine thing they did together. The horse was the leader, watching over his friend. The goat seemed appreciative, running at times to catch up. Traffic was pretty heavy. First a tractor with a friendly farmer giving me a wave went by. Then an Amish buggy with a young couple and two little ones, curiously smiling, waved back at me as they continued on their way. The longer I sat there the more I realized the horse and the goat were like good friends meeting up in the morning. Going for a cup of coffee...

There’s something magical about fields. It doesn’t matter the time of year. Fields amaze me whatever the season. This fascination began at an early age. I remember playing with my cousins as we watched for our grandfather to return from haying in the backfield. Once he drove his little red Ford tractor back over the plank bridge spanning the creek on his way to the barn, we’d run and jump on board the wagon full of hay. Fields surrounded us on both sides o f the road. When I was 8 or 9, we moved to the country, next door to my grandparents’ farm. Despite the farm not being a working farm anymore, the fields provided hours of play for me, my siblings and my cousins. They were great places to play hide ‘n seek. Fun places to pick wildflowers and clovers that were sweet tasting. Fun places to play ‘pretend’, making pretend houses by stepping down on the tall grass. Fun places to escape the adults. Fun places to walk through in the snow, stopping to make snow angels and snowmen and...