The Reindeer Keeper

  I hardly ever wore crinolines under my skirts way back when wearing crinolines underneath skirts was the fad. Not participating in a fad was unusual for me. After all, I ran to a department store located in the downtown of where I lived the moment Sonny and Cher's "I Got You Babe" grabbed my attention. I had to have bellbottoms and short-sleeved ribbed sweaters. I had to grow my hair down to my waist. But crinolines were a different story. I didn't like all of that netting. I didn't like my skirts pushed way out in front of me even when most of my friends wore crinolines all the time.  However, there are most always exceptions to most anything-even when it comes to wearing crinolines if crinolines aren't your thing. For me, that exception came when my grandmother made me a velvet green dress to wear to a Christmas party. It was going to be held in a grand old hotel in that downtown where I lived. My date was a freshman at a nearby college. He was so cute. We...

(PLEASE NOTE: I have not been able to upload photos onto my Blog Posts so I have not blogged in a while. But I finally decided to go for it without photos until the time I figure out the problem. If you would like to see the photo that I intended to add with this post, both are on my Facebook page: The Reindeer Keeper). The Post Begins Here: When my older brother was a toddler, he nicknamed our grandmother Giddy. That nickname stayed with her over the years. Giddy worked from the minute she got up to the minute she went to bed. When going downstairs in the morning, she would be wearing one of her house dresses. Functional, with pockets, wearing such a loose-fitting dress made it easier for her to move about the old farmhouse as she cooked, mended, sewed, knitted, crocheted, braided rugs, did the wash, hung it out on the line to dry, did the ironing, baked bread, made donuts and cookies and tarts, prepared meals, cleaned-up, tended to six daughters, helped her husband in the...

  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 ...

I hardly ever wore crinolines under my skirts way back when wearing crinolines underneath skirts was the fad. Not participating in a fad was unusual for me. After all, I ran to a department store located in the downtown of where I lived  the moment Sonny and Cher's "I Got You Babe" grabbed my attention. I had to have bellbottoms and short-sleeved ribbed sweaters. I had to grow my hair down to my waist. But crinolines were a different story. I didn't like all of that netting. I didn't like my skirts pushed way out in front of me even when most of my friends wore crinolines all the time.  However, there are most always exceptions to most anything-even when it comes to wearing crinolines if crinolines aren't your thing. For me, that exception  came when my grandmother made me a velvet green dress to wear to a Christmas party. It was going to be held in a grand old hotel in that downtown where I lived. My date was a Freshman at a nearby college. He was so cute. We...

I've noticed in many of the old photos I've seen of my grandparents-so many show them using their hands to create something. While they obviously used their hands to do the necessary-cook, garden, tend to crops and barn duties, clean, do the wash, care for children, etc., whenever there was an opportunity, their hands got busy in a different way-a way of relaxing and making things; stimulating their soul after a hard day's work or after completing one task before getting on to the next. Maybe that's why my aunts, mother, and grandmother got together once a week for what they called their 'Busy Fingers' Group. They'd take turns hosting the group. I remember times when it was at our house. They were always laughing and talking! Of course back in my grandparent's day television was a non-factor. There were no zillion channels with still nothing to watch. Texting wasn't a word. Communicating was face-to-face. And when that moment came-that break in t...