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...

This past December when going to the woods for a Christmas tree, I came back home with two trees. One was for the living room. The other was for the room where Brian and I spend most of our time. We call it the Groove room. It used to be a back porch. Now it’s where it all happens; everything from singing and dancing to TV viewing and CD listening and writing and watching the leaves turn and the snow fall and the garden grow and the deer pass by. It overlooks the back yard and the fields; a rock wall where rabbits live and the old barn with a light in the upstairs window. I’d thought about putting a small Christmas tree in the Groove room before but I never followed through. Something was telling me to do it this past Christmas. So I did. Once Christmas was over, it didn’t bother me to take down the tree in the front room but that little tree on the old back porch was a different story. Brian and I weren’t ready to say goodbye to what had become our favorite little tree. So we ...

For a few years, my now eight-year old granddaughter and I kept track of a bunny we'd see out back by the barn, hiding in the garden or hopping around and then disappearing in the rock wall. My granddaughter always felt the bunny was no ordinary bunny. She was convinced it was the Easter Bunny. When she was five we never saw the bunny during the summer, fall or winter. But the following spring when her little brother was here for an overnight, we both saw the bunny by the rock wall. We were so excited. I'd thought the worst had happened but the bunny proved me wrong. Adding to the excitement of seeing bunny, I'm certain I saw a few little ones scampering along beside her. Just before Easter that year, on a beautiful spring evening with geese flying and the sun setting over the fields, I went out back for a walk. I didn't get very far. As I came up the incline near the rock wall, I was astonished to find colorful, decorated Easter eggs lying in the grass. The...