Winter at the Farm

It was a sad time at the farm this Christmas. Gram, who started the farm with her husband 63 years ago, died on Christmas eve. We sat with her until she died. She was a tough fighter.

It was treacherous driving both to and from the hospital. There must have been a metre of snow. The farm was snowed in, and it was impossible to walk very far. We made some trails, so at least we could get to the chicken house, and walk along the berm. Later, we borrowed some snow-shoes and went for a long walk. We walked along virgin snow. It was hard work, using the snow-shoes. I thought they would be easier, and they were when we were in packed snow, and they were better than walking without them.

It was nice to go out into the land, and think about gram. She wants her ashes spread underneath the cottonwood tree where the eagles nest. The eagles watched us as we snow-shoed across the field. They were probably watching for us to scare some ducks into the air for them.

As the days are now getting longer, my mind turns to spring, and planting our next garden. It was Gram who encouraged me to garden, and taught me to can and make jams and jellies. Between the eagles and the garden, I will never forget gram. She'll be in the call of the eagles and in the soil that I plant and all the food I preserve.