The Reindeer Keeper

I've always loved Autumn. September and October amaze me. Every thing about them The colors. The briskness. The breathtaking leaves. The way the clouds clump together over the fields. The cider and donuts and wearing sweaters and having hot cereal for supper. Candy corn. Those orange pumpkin shaped candies that make your teeth ache. More coffee. More homemade soups. More French goulash with corn muffins. More squash. Casseroles. Apples. Homemade applesauce and apple pies and apple pan dowdy. Cinnamon. Candles. Marvelous moons. Even rainbows.   Once September slides into October, my thoughts turn toward Halloween. I've always loved Halloween. Probably when I was a kid, candy was the reason. But as I grew older I realized my love of Halloween was all about Anticipation. Anticipation of getting out Halloween decorations, some homemade and some from dollar stores. Some, hand me downs. Anticipation of going trick or treating. That never grows old. I love trick or treating. And if ...

I recently took the attached photo showing geese coming back to a creek where I played when growing up in the country alongside cousins and siblings. We were always outside playing and going on adventures and that rambling creek was most always included no matter the season and no matter the weather. This time of the year, as shown in the photo, the creek would overflow its banks in a spring thaw and we'd be right there; standing as close as possible to the edge of the creek trying not to get soaked. But most times we'd get drenched as we'd take turns throwing chunks of ice or, if the conditions were right, throwing snowballs along with the chunks of ice at larger chunks of ice moving along the open water. Sometimes when eating supper we'd watch muskrats sitting on those big chunks, hitching a ride down the creek to wherever the big chunks took them. Summer found us making forts along the creek bed using fallen limbs and branches to hide us from the enemy. Inside ...

There’s a particular tree out behind the barn whose leaves are the first to turn when summer fades to fall. I took a few pictures as that process began again and as I did I found myself looking at that magnificent tree with even greater wonder. I’m not sure why. It could have been the softness of the sun or the quiet of the small meadow where the tree stands tall reaching to the heavens with late season wildflowers spreading about in the tall grass. As September rolled on, the tree kept pulling me back to take more pictures as its leaves became drenched in vibrant colors and the scents of pumpkins and apples told the story of a most magical season evolving into the next. When I went out back one day this past week I found the tree about barren. It looked tired in October’s shadows. I couldn’t figure out how that had happened. It seemed like only yesterday that its branches were dressed in leaves of oranges and reds. Its spirit seemed strong no matter how hard the wind blew or...

I am no expert on pie making. I think if I made a pie more often I could master creating the crust from scratch but it would never taste like my grandmother's. Her idea of mixing ingredients for a pie crust was a pinch of this and a dash of that and lard was always cut into the sifted flour with a knife. She was a Master Maker of Pies-berry, raisin, mincemeat, strawberry-rhubarb, and of course, pumpkin and apple. It didn't have to be a holiday for pies to be in her oven. You knew the minute you walked in the door if she was baking. That sweet aroma was all through the house. And it didn't end there for once the pies were cooling-she'd gather the remnants of crust dusted with flour sitting on the counter and roll them into one ball of spongy dough with her hands. Then she'd roll the dough out with her wooden rolling pin-and cut through the dough with a cookie cutter-and repeat the process until all the dough had been recycled into shapes and th...