Swiping the Gingerbread

This Will Be Trouble!

 

An ugly rumor started some years ago, which is absolutely true. After the holidays, before meeting me, the gingerbread house that Bev made would go into the trash, presumably because it was stale, after sitting out for a couple weeks. In my world, there is almost no such thing as stale candy or cookies...and certainly not gingerbread. So, each year, when the signal was given, I would begin the demolition process. Some years were faster than others, but it was always an excess. Each year, Bev would look at the carnage--point it out to friends, neighbors, and family, as though I was the only one in the world capable of such excess.

All I can say is that those pink jammies in the picture are not mine, and a hunk of chocolate covered pretzel at the door is missing!

Fresh snow

Heavy Snow

Although the accumulation of snow was not very high, the snow mixed with rain and sleet at several points in the storm, making it heavy, weighing down the evergreen limbs. I watched our goats immediately run for the branches that were now low enough to the ground, from the snow, to eat. Fresh evergreen salad after the storm, and they all seemed delighted with the treat. I had often wondered what deer found to eat in the winter, and it occurred to me watching the goats, that while the storm may have brought chores to some of us, it brought a meal to others, heartily enjoyed on a cold winter's day!

Uncles Farm Set

Putting Away the Farm

Uncle Levan's farm set stayed up slightly longer than the Christmas tree, but by only a day or two. It was wrapped and put away, with care, while i was at work. It had quite a few updates this year, some straw for the animals, a weather vane, the fruit trees were painted, and it was loved.

There is a poem, a conversation, a burning ember from this putting up and taking down. It is a joy, that for me is also shadowed somehow, by the taking down, the end of the holiday, the hands that have touched this farm that are not here today. Would the joy and the nostalgia be different if i could shake off the story of how it was made? The B&W photos of the old Dickinson farmstead in Erma-- my grandfather with Mom as a little girl, my great grandparents on their 65th wedding anniversary? Knowing Uncle Levan was a talented sign painter and communicated by handing folks a pad and pencil to write on, because he was deaf?

All of these stories, and more go up with the tree, and the inherited ornaments, with each chicken and lamb of the farm set. One by one they are recalled, with a smile, with some sorrow that this as passed, and I wonder if it is just me, or if the beauty I see in each of these things, the tug I feel from Christmases past are part of the elegance of this moment. Perhaps it is all a part of the Solstice season, when there is just less between this world and the spirits, and we are all able to be together for a brief celebration, before being returned to the box, and next year's memories. Until next year, Uncle!

Muskrat Trails in the Snow

Muskrat Bob Sledding

For most of the summer, we watched a muskrat going back and forth across the pond, usually with cattails in it's mouth. At first we had no idea what it was and Bev reminded me on more than one occasion, as I was about to go swimming, that in addition to the snapping turtle that belonged in Jurassic Park, there was an unknown something or other crisscrossing the pond.

A conversation with the former owner solved the riddle. He reported that he often had muskrats, and they did a great job of controlling the cattails, and indeed, he has. There are far fewer around the pond in previous years, and for this I am grateful.

The other day, our next door neighbor, who I know very little after 4 years, I must confess, appeared to be working on his lawn tractor with the snowblower mounted to the front. We'd received quite a bit of snow, so I walked over with a shovel in hand to help. When I arrived, he reported there was a muskrat up in the snowblower...and I was mightily reassured to learn that it had not been run over, but ran up underneath when it got startled crossing the driveway. 

With a fishing pole and a couple shovel handles we convinced the muskrat to vacate the undercarriage of the John Deere and off he went, sliding along on his belly like a bobsledder . I was gld to learn that my neighbor would take the time to coax a startled muskrat out from under his tractor!