The Reindeer Keeper

Two little ones came to stay for a while this afternoon. The first thing they asked was if they could make cookies. I'd anticipated the question. I had the dough chilling in the refrigerator. It wasn't long before the cookie cutters were on the counter and the fun began. It was obvious from the start that thing called Wonder had returned. The Season of Christmas was in their eyes, their smiles, their laughter. It was contagious. After they'd packed up their cookies and headed home, I discovered some of that Wonder was still about the kitchen; inspiring me to make my little, faceless gingerbread men and put them in the old tin sitting on the table by the front door. As I mixed the dough and smelled the molasses and cut the little guys out, baked them, cooled them down and filled that tin, my mind wandered back to that precious time of Wondering. We remember the red suit, the beard, the ho-ho-ho. We remember leaving cookies and milk on Christmas Eve. But when you're...

The old tin can is back on the small table by the front door full of little garden gourds and other garden remnants found underneath weeds and overgrown plants with sprawling vines. As Christmas nears, the old tin can will hold gingerbread men fresh from the oven; some still steaked with flour and all without decorations or faces. They will remain in the old tin can through February. Many of those little garden gourds and other garden remnants were discovered by a six-year-old. Most every time he visited this past summer, he’d run out the back door to the garden to see what had grown since his last visit. One day he cleared a space between the carrots and zucchini and asked if he could plant something in his little garden. I found some leftover beet seeds in the garage. He was thrilled. Watching how gently he patted soil over the seeds, it was obvious he’d not only inherited the fishing gene, he’d inherited the gardening gene as well. When he was satisfied that the beet seeds w...