Riege: Christmas story

Published 4:29 pm Wednesday, December 21, 2011

BY BOB AND GINNY RIEGE

Winter has its icy grip on the land and everything is covered in a blanket of white. Wood smoke fills the air with a hint of hickory and oak. Christmas lights decorate most houses and some are as bright as the midday sun. People hustle to and from their houses and with a flurry of activity quickly shut out the silence that punctuates the night. Distant sounds of Christmas carols can be heard, but they drift on the wind and seem almost dream like to the cold exposed ear.

In retirement, I have a tendency to reflect on earlier days and what Christmas was all about. Oh sure, there was the anticipation of what Santa had brought, but there were also many lessons taught to me at this time of the year. Some of my first lessons at Christmas time were how to read tracks in the snow. The mysterious arrival and disappearance of the tracks of partridge or pheasant. The parallel exclamation points left by some wandering buck or doe. The tiny, nearly human, delicate handprints of the coons or sleepless possums. The business like heavy, working footprint of the never resting muskrat. The spade like paddle print of ducks, or the inline cat like footprints of the red fox.

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Reflecting on what I think a perfect Christmas would be, I have decided the following: My kind of Christmas week would involve the entire family; a lot of it would be spent in old clothes and sheepskin slippers with a fire. I think you can tell a lot about a person in the way they behave around a fire, whether it is at home by the fireplace, in the old hunting shack, or best of all fires by the lake with only the hoot of the owl for company. To me a good fire doesn’t roar and flame. It’s obedient and thoughtful. It burns quietly to provide a little background color to the stories and fill up the lulls in the conversation.

At this time of year some of us would like to return to a quieter time in our lives, spending time with our families, instead of at the mall, or popping corn, and making candy. Snow balls, flavored with vanilla and sugar. Passing on traditions like prized Remington shotguns from father to son or grandfather to grandson.

What would Christmas be without stories of hunting and fishing experiences while whistle making or just carving on a stick? I could listen endlessly to my dad describe the old hunting shack and the duck blind that he had on a lake near Windom, MN. If I close my eyes I can feel the heat form the open hearth fire and hear the crackle of the pine knots as the air was filled with wood smoke, and laughter, especially after my dad told the others how he missed so many ducks and then in the excitement fell into the water. Of course the autumn smells were sweeter and the weather was worse than anything you could experience today.

To close the day, my Irish setters and I would go out for a walk and watch the evening sun sink, into the frozen lake. At the edge of the woods a doe and yearling raise an alert head as I approach. I’m getting the feeling that I’m intruding on the peace and go along about my business, guided home by the star of light gleaming from the kitchen window.

Coming home to the glow of candle light and fire one has to think that the outside weather sure feels like the coming of snow. Laddy Boy and our new puppy Brandi head for their blankets to nosh on their favorite bones before curling by the fire. As I enter the room they raise their heads only to see if I will come to join them in their peaceful slumber. It is beginning to snow outside and my wife; Ginny is taking a pan full of caramel rolls out of the oven. The snow is making a halo of light to be seen through the window. I give a silent toast to whomever it was that discovered, or invented, brandy, Irish setters, wives and Christmas.

To each of you and yours, We would like to wish you a very Merry Christmas and a Joyous and Happy New Year.