The Reindeer Keeper

  Sitting up on a shelf in front of my computer is an old piece of wood. It sits there for a reason. Whenever I’m in need of inspiration, that old piece of wood inspires me. That old piece of wood reminds me of a time long ago when I was a little girl reading my Louisa May Alcott books and Laura Ingalls Wilder books in an old chicken coop void of chickens, converted to a clubhouse where I’d play with my cousins. And next to the old chicken coop there s at a massive old barn. Like the chicken coop, it belonged to my grandparents. They were both a part of their family farm. My cousins and I played in that barn. By then, the farm was no longer a working farm. Although the roosts were void of chickens and the stanchions void of cows and the pastures void of horses and the grain shed was almost void of grain, none of that mattered to us. The roosts and stanchions turned into props. We were there to play and pretend and go on great adventures. There were two mighty hay lofts in th...

I have my grandmother to thank for introducing me to books written by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I didn't realize at the time how those books and that writer would influence me or how the storylines would follow me through adulthood as favorite ones ever read. I don't remember how old I was when I found "Little House in the Big Woods" wrapped in tissue paper under the Christmas tree. It would be the first of many of this author's books I'd receive. I never had a favorite. From "The Long Winter" to "On the Banks of Plum Creek" I absorbed every word. I could see Laura living in her sod house or surviving what must have seemed a never-ending winter. Sometimes I'd take one with me when going to play in the chicken coop clubhouse and sometimes, I found time to read. The books fit right in to the surroundings since the chicken coop had been gutted and filled with the remains of an abandoned one-room schoolhouse. It mirrored the classroom in the ...