The Reindeer Keeper

  We are in the midst of my favorite month of the year and so far, it could be described as an old-fashion January with lots of snow and wind. Blizzards. Rain. More snow. Perfect January weather. But with such perfect weather comes the need for some best friends. * SOUPS: A favorite soup I make this time of year is a soup my mother used to make & we all enjoyed. Over the years it was nicknamed, "Witch's Brew," because of the little acini di pepe as one of the ingredients resembling something that might be found in a witch's brewing pot of ghoul. The longer the acini di pepe sat in the chicken broth, the better they tasted. * SWEATERS: I love sweaters. The older the better. The more you wear them the warmer and cozier they make you feel. Many years ago, when my hometown had a downtown there was a store called The Surprise Store. It was a department store and with each purchase you earned S & H Green Stamps. It was also the place to go for sweaters. I sti...

Remember the fun of coloring the clowns or the puppies and kittens and all the simple artwork in those coloring books when growing up? There was nothing better than sitting down with your Crayola crayons and your favorite coloring books and spending time simply coloring. Between the unforgettable scent of the crayons and the many choices of basic artwork in those coloring books, the time spent coloring was magical. And quite creative. Very creative. Just think. With your Crayola crayons you could color the sun pink, the grass blue, kittens green and puppies red. Stars could be purple. Bananas could be orange. Whatever your imagination chose, those familiar objects could change their familiar colors and dress up like its Halloween, disguising themselves just like we do. Summer is a never-ending coloring book with its pages beautifully colored by Mother Nature in shades of primary and secondary colors. Some soft. Some bold. With the warmth of the sun, summer's colors seem richer. The...

Between the ice, the wind and the snow, this past winter was a harsh one. Not only on us humans, but on the trees, roads, homes, barns, and whatever else was outside at the mercy of the elements all winter long. Some days when I'd look out the window, I was unable to see familiar sights, like the old barn out back and a little blue swing approaching its 12th summer hanging from a maple tree, providing lots of fun and lots of memories involving two little children who grew up playing around or near or in that plastic swing hung from a sturdy branch when the oldest, now twelve (in the bottom picture) was but a toddler. A few weeks ago, when early signs of spring were becoming noticeable, I went out back to check the garden and take a good look around. That look around included the maple tree holding on to the little blue swing. I discovered the twine rope attached to the swing, wrapped around a branch of the maple tree was severely frayed. I noticed that branch holding on to the swin...

  BUT THEN, LIKE MAGIC They say change happens right before our eyes. And more often than not, we never see it happen. For some, waiting for spring after a long, hard winter is tedious to say the least. One day brings sunshine: the next a blizzard. Ice covers the roads and sidewalks. Schools are closed. The wind howls. The temperature goes below zero. Oh, those heating bills. Then, the ice and snow turn to water flooding the basement. Snow piles turn into mud piles. Grass is scraggly and frozen in place. Shades of browns and greys; heaved roads, dirt and debris; cold winds, tired people still wrapped in scarves and wool hats and mittens all make it appear as if Mother Nature is asleep on the job. But Then, Like Magic, daffodils show their yellow faces, adding color to the dreariness. Robins come back. Crows squawk. Geese honk. Fields are being plowed. Tulips pop up out of the ground. The scent of lilacs is in the air, and then, more Magic. One day we go outside, and our hearts are ...

  A few weeks ago, I posted a photo of our Christmas tree after dragging it outdoors and standing it up by the bird feeders. I secured it to the post holding the feeders, thinking it would offer additional ways and places for me to feed the flock. After one of our windy, snowy, icy storms I looked out one morning and saw the tree had blown over. It was on the ground not too far from the feeders. After a while I went out to get it standing back up again beside the feeders. But I couldn’t budge the tree. It was frozen in place. I knew I’d have to leave it there until we had a warm spell. I thought that was that. But then, the funniest, strangest thing began to happen. It’s still going on as winter is far from over. The Christmas tree turned into a hotel. A busy and spacious Bird Hotel with a marvelous view of the field. It appears to be patronized by Cardinals, Sparrows, Blue Jays, Chickadees, Woodpeckers, Mourning Doves, Rock Doves, Crows, even Squirrels and Chipmunks. Some days...

I am a Winter Lover.  The more it snows and blows the better. The beauty of the season has always taken my breath away, from sunrises and sunsets to frosty fields and ice-covered landscapes, as well as snowdrifts up to the hips. However, this winter has found me complaining, just a little. You see, where I live in northern New York, the consistent temperature has lingered way below zero for days and nights. By below zero I'm talking 25 to 35+ below zero. The house moans and groans. The furnace goes nonstop, and I continue to try to stay warm. Homemade soups, coffee (more than usual), hot chocolate, more soups and casseroles with homemade breads, long johns, candles, piles of blankets, and turning the heat up all continue to come to my aid. But most soothing, day and night, have been my sweaters. I've always loved sweaters. Before this winter, comfort was most important in a sweater. Now, after the month of January set record below normal temperatures, warmth has taken over as m...

  I've been thinking about the day I took this photo a few years ago. It was mid-January and although it doesn't look it, the temperature was below zero. It was a day like the recent days we've been experiencing. Beautiful and sunny, then absolutely earth shattering frigid cold when the sun goes down. Even the moon, as glorious and bright as it has been, is unable to warm the night. I remember standing there in the snow, dressed in layers and shivering as I took some photos and as I took the photos, I listened to the Amish men, laughing and talking as they cut through the ice, then loaded those blocks onto wagons to take back home and store in their barns or sheds. A dog they had with them barked as the cattails snapped to my touch and geese said good morning. The horses stood in place, a few curious of my presence. I remember hearing and reading stories my Aunt Helen wrote in a family cookbook of my grandfather, bundled up in his fur coat and cap and his horses covered in ...

With the last few days being below zero I went to my survival kit for help. There are no hand warmers or candles or blankets or hot tea in that kit. There's actually no kit. But there are memories of my grandmother's Johnny Cake recipe and my mother's recipe for a soup that came to be known as her Witch's Brew. Both recipes warm a below zero string of days and nights. So yesterday I got busy. A main ingredient in the Witch's Brew is acini d'pepe. Those tiny little balls of macaroni are what my kids most remember and most enjoyed. That's probably because, to them, those little balls resembled little eyeballs in the Witch's Brew. They were eating eyeballs! Lucky for me I had a few boxes of the eyeballs in the cupboard so out they came along with whatever else I needed. With the soup in the works, I brought out the cornmeal for the Johnny Cake which I turned into little muffins. As the wind howled and the furnace went nonstop and the music played and the Wi...

The other day as big, fluffy, beautiful January snowflakes fell, Brian started listening to a Gordon Lightfoot CD I'd bought him for Christmas. I bought it for one particular song that he's always liked. After he listened to it, I suggested he listen to the other songs, telling him the other Gordon Lightfoot songs were just as good. So, he did. I was in the kitchen when a certain song started playing. It used to be a favorite of mine (still is) so I started sing ing as I began to gather ingredients to make him an omelet. "How do you know that song?" he asked. "I don't remember. I've just always liked it." "Come sit down and listen to it." So, I did. It was peaceful sitting there with the snow falling about the fields. I went on a bit about the beauty in winter; the peace I find in the stillness and how absolutely breathtaking it was outside. Of course, Brian has heard me go on and on about winter many times before. This ti...

Before last week’s mini ice storm I’d put some suet out for the birds in a clustered bunch of bird feeders. A few of the feeders are made of wood that’s now worn with plastic dividers chipped in the corners. One feeder is made of small, colorful pieces resembling stain glass that glitters when the sun is shining. Once the ice storm hit with howling winds and snow falling and ice forming, many of the remaining seeds in the feeders went flying. Many ended up on top of the ice covering the ground while even more of them ended up under the feeders. Seeds just sitting there on the ice and under the feeders attracted a variety of birds but more often than not, only the big birds were able to conquer the slippery ice; then grab some seeds and take off to a nearby tree to enjoy their winter feast. Of all the birds that were out there, it was one little bird that caught my eye. She was very small but determined. As my son Brian and I watched her fight for a seed, we found ourselves che...

As the snow keeps falling in this month of March I am reminded of my mother and a 33rpm vinyl record album she played over and over again on a record player which was part of a fancy console complete with a radio featuring both AM & FM channels as well as a space to store albums. She bought the massive console as a gift for the family or so she said when it was delivered days before Christmas one year when I was in Junior High School. Thinking back, I believe the main purpose of that console was for my mother to play a particular song from one of her favorite Dean Martin Christmas albums. The song was titled-“A Marshmallow World.” She played that song not only in December but all through the winter months. Each of us in that household knew every word, every pause in that song. We’d automatically sing along without even realizing it. My mother was a fanatic Saturday morning clean-the-house-thoroughly kind of person which meant I had to pitch in. Dean Martin made that tort...

When you're a little kid, giant snowbanks are so much more. They turn into whatever a young imagination wants them to be. That's the way it was when growing up in the country. Of course the only shovelling we did was when digging tunnels into snowdrifts, linking one to another and maybe another. With fields all around there was enough space and more than enough snow for each of us to have our own snow home complete with a snow bed and if the consistency of the snow was just right-a supply of snowballs ready to go when needed. Older kids would entertain younger ones but it was built into the playing going on instead of thought of as taking care of them. Out came sleds and wooden skiis as drifts became mountains to slide down or roll down. And when there weren't enough sleds, ripped cardboard boxes worked just fine! We'd spend hours outside. Even with wet mittens and boots full of snow we never felt cold. We were too busy turning those mounds of snow into whateve...