The Reindeer Keeper

I recently posted a feature about two of my old cupboards all decked out for Christmas, pointing out my love for such intriguing pieces of furniture with nooks and crannies meant to hold special little treasures. More often, special to just me. This morning, with the outside temperature in the single digits, I went to a drawer in one of those cupboards. It is a deep drawer. One of two. It is the one I go to often during the winter. That is because it is full of mittens. Well, not really anymore. Mittens were the intended occupants but that has changed over the years. I didn't realize how much that has changed until I pulled it open and was greeted by a hodgepodge of odds 'n ends of stuff. It was mostly all warm stuff. Like scarfs and gloves. A few woolen socks. A few hats. Knitted hats. But hardly any mittens. Matching mittens, that is. There were quite a few of those small, stretchy black mittens that you can even buy at the grocery store which I always find convenient. That i...

My youngest child never knew my grandmother. She passed away when he was a baby. But that doesn't mean she didn't leave him a memory-something just for him from a great-grandmother who wanted him to feel he was as special to her as the other great grandchildren who knew her-who sat on her lap and rocked with her in her rocking chair by the front window.  My grandmother was always using her hands like instruments to cook-to clean-to hold little ones and tell them she loved them-and to create. Sewing-darning-crocheting-braiding rugs-quilting. It never mattered what she was creating as long as her hands were busy with a task.   My grandmother set out to make my unborn a quilt. She had some of the little squares cut out. Back then we never knew if we were having a boy or a girl so she chose colors at random. It didn't matter what the colors were to me. What did matter was despite the fact she was tired and weak she kept pushing to finish the ...