The Reindeer Keeper

  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 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...

Besides the robins, tulips, daffodils and geese, kids playing in and walking through puddles created by melting snow are a sign of spring despite occasional snow squalls and the wind howling. I bet most kids would say playing in those puddles is a favorite thing to do as Mother Nature tries her best to turn Winter into Spring. I know my nine-year old grandson would agree. The top photo shows him at age three, standing in one of those puddles after jumping up and down, laughing with his hands flying, losing his breath when some of the flying melted snow splashes him in the face. But kids don't feel getting soaking wet in a puddle. They just keep jumping and laughing, eventually racing inside to get warmed up with a cup of hot chocolate. The 2nd photo shows my grandson the other morning after sleeping over the night before. Nine years old now, he didn't jump up and down, but he did make waves with his boots. Then he took a stick and looked for fish or other fantastical creatures ...

  BUT THEN, LIKE MAGIC They say change happens right before our eyes. And more often than not, we never see it happen. For some, waiting for spring after a long, hard winter is tedious to say the least. One day brings sunshine: the next a blizzard. Ice covers the roads and sidewalks. Schools are closed. The wind howls. The temperature goes below zero. Oh, those heating bills. Then, the ice and snow turn to water flooding the basement. Snow piles turn into mud piles. Grass is scraggly and frozen in place. Shades of browns and greys; heaved roads, dirt and debris; cold winds, tired people still wrapped in scarves and wool hats and mittens all make it appear as if Mother Nature is asleep on the job. But Then, Like Magic, daffodils show their yellow faces, adding color to the dreariness. Robins come back. Crows squawk. Geese honk. Fields are being plowed. Tulips pop up out of the ground. The scent of lilacs is in the air, and then, more Magic. One day we go outside, and our hearts are ...

 When it got to be that time of the year, when winter was thinking of fading into spring, my cousins and I gave Mother Nature a hand in the process as it seemed pretty slow to us. Because we spent lots of time outside anytime of the year-lots of time in the fields and pastures, whether attempting to feed my older brother's black angus as pictured above or running through hayfields or running to our clubhouse or down to the creek, when the thought of spring was in the air, we pitched in to help that happen even faster than Mother Nature had planned on making it happen. Sometimes we'd start in the driveways. We'd go into my aunt's garage and bring out whatever we could find to chop through the ice and shovel the remaining snow away. Guess we thought we'd then be able to ride our bikes. Whatever we thought we'd be out there working hard with shovels and hoes. Part of the fun was etching little streams out in the melting snow, leading that water to a bigger pool of ...

  I took the above photo of a hedgerow a few weeks ago. Most any photo taken outdoors this time of the year stirs one’s senses but this one was telling me a story that I couldn’t figure out. That changed yesterday when I opened up an old cupboard where I keep little odds ‘n ends of things, most handmade by my children over the years —like a small ceramic ghost holding a pumpkin and a stuffed-with-newspapers-brown paper bag made to look like a pumpkin face and a ceramic statue of Charlie Brown and a painted, wooden tulip in a wooden vase as well as small candles and small Santas and reindeer and bunnies and trinkets from Dollar stores. I’d gone to the cupboard over the weekend for a few Halloween ceramic pumpkins and while I was getting the pumpkins I noted a plastic bag way in the back. Sitting on the floor, I pulled the bag out; reached inside and grabbed hold of three very large and very beautiful quilt tops my mother had made. (Example of one shown above). I’ve written before ...

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...

I don't remember people going to gyms when I was growing up. Oh we had gym class in school when I hit the 7th grade. I've included a photo of what our gym suits resembled although we weren't quite as sophisticated looking in them as the mannequin with her red lipstick! I never liked gym class; especially going into the locker room and changing into my gym suit. It was embarrassing at that age to change clothes in front of your peers when you hardly knew most of them. As far as gyms go I really don't recall any gyms where you'd join to go work out. But you never miss what you never had. Growing up in the country was like owning our own private gym open twenty four hours a day seven days a week free of charge; free of dealing with strangers in your space. There was no waiting; that is if parents allowed us being outside day and night. They most always did. When I think about it me and my cousins and siblings  were working out all the time just by running, jumpin...

Funny how certain things remain in your heart as you grow up. You don't judge their value monetarily. Rather, their value stems from the feelings they evoke; the memories they stir; the senses they ignite. Their value to you is priceless. It could be as something as small as a tea cup to something as big as a car. Whatever that favorite thing is, all that matters is that connection in your heart. My favorite old coat has remained in my heart ever since growing up in the country. It seems like only yesterday when my mother came home from an afternoon of shopping in our once busy downtown with a big box just for me. It wasn't Christmas. It wasn't my birthday. It was just an ordinary day. Ordinary, that is, until I opened that box and discovered a brownish tweed wool coat wrapped in white tissue paper. It wasn't even that time of the year for wearing a coat but that never crossed my mind as I jumped up and pulled the coat out of the box. It was love at first sight for ...

I was recently reminded how absolutely fantastically wonderful it is to play in the leaves. And if that reminder comes from a child-as it did for me-then the experience is all the more amazing-turning an afternoon visit into an afternoon of imagination through the eyes of a 3-year old granddaughter. When I first arrived she and her mommy and daddy had been gathering leaves into a giant pile. She came around the corner of the house, sitting on her daddy's lap-smiling-as he drove the lawn mower while holding a rake. The fun soon began as she buried her daddy-and then her mommy in the picky leaves. Then they turned the tables and covered her in the leaves. She didn't stay still for long. Up she jumped-her hair twisted in leaves-coughing and laughing and jumping around.  After a bit, it was just the two of us at the leaf pile-then in the leaf pile-then under the leaf pile over and over again. But that curious, childhood imagination really kicked in when I took a rake an...

With gardens now in overload-plants spreading their vines beyond the edges like spider webs, covering everything in their path; their leaves and bounty selfishly and boldly declaring they rule the back yard or back field or wherever a garden may be, I hear people saying they don't have time to weed or water or even pick and cook and can or freeze or giveaway the beans, peas, squash, zucchini (oh how those zucchini plants produce), tomatoes, corn, beets, carrots, potatoes, peppers, onions hanging from plants or clinging to vines or underground waiting to be discovered. When I hear this-and I say that too-I think back to the gardens on my grandparent's farm.I remember one along the side of their farmhouse. My cousin and I would help weed it. Even better, we'd sit and eat the carrots. But I don't remember the one in the photo above which shows my grandmother at a very young age working it. Besides seeing her so young, what struck me was the enormity of that garden. I s...