An Old Fashioned Christmas

The vapor drifted from the hot breath of the two work horses. The harness bells jingled, as their heads bobbed up and down smoothly. We floated along smooth ups and downs, in the undulating landscape, as they pulled the sleigh through the deep snow. Grandma, Grandpa, and I were neatly tucked in a nest of loose hay mounded around us. I was in between them, and well layered against the cold, but that did not stop the frosty air from nipping at my nose and cheeks.

We had finished the morning feeding of the cattle. A process that consisted of harnessing a team to a large tandem runner sleigh, with a hay rack on it. Next we would take the sleigh to one of the hay stacks on the ranch, and load it with loose stacked hay. Back in those days, we did not bail the hay, it was stacked loose, and was loaded using pitch forks. At 4 years old, I was too young to wield a pitch fork, but I could climb the stack and watch. My Grandpa would stab pitchforks into the side of the stack to use as ladder steps to the top, then he would carefully guide me up the makeshift ladder. I loved sitting up there, listening to him tell stories, and gently talking to the horses to keep them calm, and in place. After he was finished pitching a big load of hay onto the rack, we would slide off the stack, down into the fresh piled hay. Next came my favorite part of the feeding, I would get to hold the reins, and Grandpa would pitch the hay off, to the cattle in the field.

It was a rarity for Grandma to accompany Grandpa and I, but today was a special day. The sun was shining making the snow and frost on the trees glisten like a crystal forest. We were making our way along the wooded path to find something special, something that would mark this time of year indelibly in my mind forever. The hand saw and axe were a clue to the object of our quest. Have you guessed it? Yes, we were going to cut our Christmas tree.

Grandpa knew exactly which one to get, a well formed blue spruce that would fit in the corner of our log cabin. Grandpa pointed to the tree, about 60 yards deep into the thicket of trees. The snow was far too deep for Grandma and I, so we sat in the warm hay, as Grandpa made the hike to the tree. He cleared most of the snow from around the base, then trimmed off some of the lower limbs. These would later make a garland over the door. Next his sharp axe made quick work of chopping down the tree. Each swing freed more snow from the heavily laden branches, and covered Grandpa, with the light dry powder. Grandpa soon made his way back to the sleigh, with a huge grin, and a beautiful tree. He tossed the tree onto the back of the hay rack and climbed on.

When we got back to the cabin, we stood the tree in the corner, and it dripped snow, slush, and water onto the well worn wood plank floor. The smell of fresh pine, along with homemade bread, and hot chocolate filled the air. Christmas was just a few days away.

We didn’t decorate the tree, that was Santa’s job. The decorations were put out on Christmas eve, and when Santa came, he would put them all up. He sure was a busy guy, back then.

We had a Sears Catalog, and I had been allowed to pick one item for Santa to bring. I had scoured the toy section a hundred times, trying to decide on what I would request. A red crane truck, with an operating bucket, and wrecking ball was my final choice. After dictating a letter to Santa, I remember being worried that we would not be able to get through the heavy snow laden roads, and into town, so my letter to the North Pole could be mailed.

When Christmas morning came, Santa had indeed received my letter, and granted my request. I loved that crane, and I don’t think it was out of my site for the entire day.

During that time of their lives, my grandparents were poor. We lived at a level of poverty, that few ever get to experience. The land provided our living. A huge garden in the summer, filled a root cellar, for the winter. Beans, flour, coffee, sugar and a few other necessities were about all that they bought, the rest of our food, we raised or hunted. Grandma could prepare the most wonderful meals, from a couple of cottontail rabbits, homemade bread, homemade butter, and a few potatoes. Everything was prepared with an old wood burning oven.  Few people today, have had the immeasurable pleasure of smelling bread baking accompanied by the smell of burning pine, cottonwood, and aspen.

Back then, all I could think about was how much I enjoyed that single “store bought” gift, but today, I think about the love and sacrifice that my grandparents must have had, too give me such an extravagent gift.  We were poor, and my grandfather was at the beginning of a prolonged health battle, but we were happy. From my perspective, a mountain of gifts would have been forgotten long ago, but the simple joys of spending time together doing simple things will last forever.

Merry Christmas, may your family experience the joy of the season, and not get lost in the hustle, bustle, and modern expectations.

Shane McKenna