The Reindeer Keeper

Growing up in the country there are places that become favorite places when you are young and playing and pretending with friends throughout the year. And when the seasons change, the play changes as well. I did most of my playing with my cousins. Mainly, my cousin Carol.  I've written about my grandfather's barn with two large haylofts connected by a wooden bridge and the empty chicken roosts empty because my grandfather had to close down his farm due to asthma. I've gone on and on about the chicken coop void of chickens, cleaned out, then filled with the remains of a closed one-room schoolhouse up the road. Those remains included the books, desks and chalkboards. Students were being bussed to nearby public schools. That happened before my parents moved us to the country. (Us meaning my sister, my brother and me).  The chicken coop void of chickens and filled with the remains of the one-room schoolhouse is where I would play with my cousins most days after school, on the w...

My grandfather was a hard-working farmer. He and my grandmother provided a good life for their six daughters. They did it all. Each had their list of duties from ice harvesting on the St. Lawrence in the depth of winter to haying in the hot sticky days of June; along with planting gardens which led to weeding, picking, slicing, cooking, canning produce and filling the root cellar. Then there was the sewing, knitting, cleaning, tending to children, tending to barn animals and machinery and the list goes on. Point is, my grandparents worked hard every day with no days off. Memories of my grandfather are precious. I can see him splitting wood in the woodshed just outside a door of the kitchen in the farmhouse. I can hear the ax hit the wood; remember the splinters of the wood go flying through the air. I can see him coming in from the backfield with a load of hay driving his small red Ford tractor over the plank bridge spanning Sucker Creek, then over flat rock and on to the bar...