The Reindeer Keeper

  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...

That's my grandfather sitting on the doorstep of what was his woodshed. The woodshed was attached to the back of the farmhouse. Inside the woodshed, there was a door that opened up into the kitchen, making it easier when working out in the shed, chopping wood up into pieces. All that the wood chopper needed to do after chopping was open that door, walk a few feet into the kitchen to the wood box sitting by the woodstove and dump the new supply of chopped wood into it. I remember being in the kitchen, able to hear someone chopping wood in the woodshed. I loved the smell of the chopped wood. Loved the saw dust and wood shavings all over the place. Another thing I loved in that woodshed was the wooden platform leading from the door in the kitchen to a set of stairs that took you down to the dirt floor in the woodshed or back up and through to the kitchen depending which way you were going. It was a good-sized wooden platform. Perfect for stacking wood and more importantly, perfect for...

 I can't claim to be a maker of gingerbread houses. I only tried one time. I wasn't using a kit. My plan was to make it from scratch and then let my very young children decorate it. I had everything ready to go for the decorating. I had it all planned. After I had the pieces cut out and baked; then cooled and on the table, I figured the rest would be easy. It would become a Christmas tradition right out of the movies. That never happened. Just the thought of gingerbread houses tires me out. That's because the pieces of the gingerbread house i made from scratch would not stay in place no matter how hard we tried. I'd followed all the directions. But it kept falling down like London Bridge as the kids whined and started to eat the candy meant to go on the house. It got to be really late. If I'd had my way, I would have thrown those pieces in the trash but, I had a better idea. In a calm and reassuring voice, I told the kids I thought I should start over and while the...

Back in the days of my grandparents living on their farm, working the fields and raising a family, when November came around and it was an election year, they exercised their Right to Vote. At a certain time on that important day, my grandfather would come in from the barn to get cleaned up. My grandmother would finish preparing a full-course meal with all the trimmings. Election Day was treated with respect and a fine homemade dinner including dessert. When my grandparents were ready to go, they'd get in my grandfather's small Ford truck and head up the road to, what I remember them calling, the county barn, where they would vote.  A few times I was lucky enough to go with my Aunt Claire in her small Ford car to the county barn. I'd be able to go inside and wait for her. I loved doing that. Although I was very young, I was able to sense the importance of the moment; that being our right of freely expressing our opinions, hopes, fears and dreams for the country we love thro...

  EARLIER THIS HALLOWEEN MORNING I was out taking some pictures of the moon over the field when suddenly I could not believe my eyes. A Witch-a real Witch on a broom went flying by. I could hear her heckling and the broom whizzing and the wind drifting through the branches now bare. It's Halloween! Glorious and spooky Halloween with candy corn and lollipops and miniature candy bars and popcorn balls and candy apples and pumpkins carved, and wide-eyed kids full of anticipation out trick or treating. It's Halloween! Beautifully Glorious and So Very Spooky.

 A string of pearls has a few meanings to me.  My mother loved the Glenn Miller Orchestra. Particularly their song, "String of Pearls." Sometimes she'd put her Glenn Miller 33 RPM vinyl record in the record console when cleaning the house. When that song came on, she'd turn it up and dance around as she dusted or washed windows or changed the sheets on the beds. I now understand why she liked that song. I've grown to like it too. Whenever I hear it, I can't sit still. It gets me dancing around the house. My grandmother had a few pieces of jewelry that I fondly remember. Not because of monetary value. I have no clue what they were worth. But I do have a clue of their worth in the fact they were my grandmother's That makes them priceless to me. I remember on special occasions, like Thanksgiving or Christmas, she'd most always wear a swirly, silver pin. I can still see her pulling a turkey out of the oven. Although she wore a bib apron over her dress, tha...