The red trucks drove down the country road followed by the ambulance and police cruisers. Strangely silent. No flashing lights. No sirens. Hardly a hint of haste. Only headlights that were needed were visible in the fast approaching dimness of a mid winter cloudy afternoon.
They were the last of the vehicles that trailed behind the dark coloured hearse which travelled a bit faster and with more urgency .
The country neighbours watched from their porch balcony doors commenting quietly as they texted their family members and other neighbours to report on the latest happenings 'down the road'.
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It had been a dreary day all round. Hopefully the plough would be down the road in a couple of days. Things always seemed to take so long over the holidays. Although she really had no real need to have the road ploughed. Everything she needed was right in the house. The deep freeze was well stocked with meat and vegetables. The canned goods pantry was almost filled to overflowing. The wood bin was full with dry seasoned poplar. Poplar that had been seasoned two years which in fact made it a joy to start with just a few coals at the bottom of the grate; that could throw heat right to the top of the attic in 15 minutes if one wanted to warm up the mouse nests that were built along side the brick chimney.
The last few days had been very quiet in the small semi isolated farm house. Being 2 miles off the main highway and the last house on the grid made passing traffic very rare and actually quite startling when one saw the rare lights from a hunter's truck or the sound of an ATV rambling over cultivated fields.
She looked out across the shrouded field engulfed in the dark of an early winter's evening and remembered the time he had gone into town on such a night and she had been left behind. That had been the night that she had seen lights whirring around and around the same stubble field and had become quite alarmed not knowing what exactly the lights meant; not knowing about snowmobiles and where the far roads led. A time long passed . An occurrence never again repeated.
Walking back through the kitchen, she examined once again the cleared cupboard surface, glanced up at the sole kitchen light in the middle of the ceiling before she flipped the switch creating yet another dark space so seemingly early in the day.
Guided by the faint light from her bedroom she made her way mainly by feel towards the bathroom where she prepared for bed. All was quiet. The television had been shut off early in the afternoon. No radio sounds with twinkling carols and sweet yarns of some stranger's sticky Christmas memory intruding this evening. Just quiet. Just the silence. Just the memories.
The sheets in the bed were cool and she wiggled her legs and toes to bring warmth. Then she remembered that she had not put wood in the stove.
Crawling out of bed with a soft groan, turning on the harsh light in the hallway she made her way back to the living part of the dark house. With the help of the dim light in the basement stairwell she found her way down to the wood stove. She opened the metal lid and saw that there was hardly even the slightest glow of embers at the bottom. Taking the metal poker she stirred the ashes hoping to revive the doleful gloomy sparks into something to help contribute to the starting of a fire. Placing the split poplar wood layer upon layer over the embers she reached down and opened the door at the bottom of the stove wide open to allow the air to pull a draft through the meagre sparks in order to start a real fire faster..
She left the door open and went back upstairs. She would return later to close the door when she heard the whooshing of the air traveling up the chimney, part of which was situated right in her bedroom.
Cuddling down in a ball she lay there in her bed listening for the chimney sounds. She could hear the wind coursing through the evergreens just outside her window. She thought of other Christmas Eves. Christmas Eves of huge meals in the kitchen and candle light shimmering from garlands hanging from the ceiling. Christmas Eves of games and 'little' presents. Excitement and picture taking under the tree. The hanging of stockings , cheese balls, and punch bowls. She closed her eyes and thought of the times of Santa and the soft tip toeing as presents were put under the tree.
She could hear something. A horn? An alarm? Surely not time to get up yet. No alarm was set. Probably just a dream. Ignore it. Probably some snowmobilers roaring around on Christmas Eve.
They were the last of the vehicles that trailed behind the dark coloured hearse which travelled a bit faster and with more urgency .
The country neighbours watched from their porch balcony doors commenting quietly as they texted their family members and other neighbours to report on the latest happenings 'down the road'.
*********************************************************************************
It had been a dreary day all round. Hopefully the plough would be down the road in a couple of days. Things always seemed to take so long over the holidays. Although she really had no real need to have the road ploughed. Everything she needed was right in the house. The deep freeze was well stocked with meat and vegetables. The canned goods pantry was almost filled to overflowing. The wood bin was full with dry seasoned poplar. Poplar that had been seasoned two years which in fact made it a joy to start with just a few coals at the bottom of the grate; that could throw heat right to the top of the attic in 15 minutes if one wanted to warm up the mouse nests that were built along side the brick chimney.
The last few days had been very quiet in the small semi isolated farm house. Being 2 miles off the main highway and the last house on the grid made passing traffic very rare and actually quite startling when one saw the rare lights from a hunter's truck or the sound of an ATV rambling over cultivated fields.
She looked out across the shrouded field engulfed in the dark of an early winter's evening and remembered the time he had gone into town on such a night and she had been left behind. That had been the night that she had seen lights whirring around and around the same stubble field and had become quite alarmed not knowing what exactly the lights meant; not knowing about snowmobiles and where the far roads led. A time long passed . An occurrence never again repeated.
Walking back through the kitchen, she examined once again the cleared cupboard surface, glanced up at the sole kitchen light in the middle of the ceiling before she flipped the switch creating yet another dark space so seemingly early in the day.
Guided by the faint light from her bedroom she made her way mainly by feel towards the bathroom where she prepared for bed. All was quiet. The television had been shut off early in the afternoon. No radio sounds with twinkling carols and sweet yarns of some stranger's sticky Christmas memory intruding this evening. Just quiet. Just the silence. Just the memories.
The sheets in the bed were cool and she wiggled her legs and toes to bring warmth. Then she remembered that she had not put wood in the stove.
Crawling out of bed with a soft groan, turning on the harsh light in the hallway she made her way back to the living part of the dark house. With the help of the dim light in the basement stairwell she found her way down to the wood stove. She opened the metal lid and saw that there was hardly even the slightest glow of embers at the bottom. Taking the metal poker she stirred the ashes hoping to revive the doleful gloomy sparks into something to help contribute to the starting of a fire. Placing the split poplar wood layer upon layer over the embers she reached down and opened the door at the bottom of the stove wide open to allow the air to pull a draft through the meagre sparks in order to start a real fire faster..
She left the door open and went back upstairs. She would return later to close the door when she heard the whooshing of the air traveling up the chimney, part of which was situated right in her bedroom.
Cuddling down in a ball she lay there in her bed listening for the chimney sounds. She could hear the wind coursing through the evergreens just outside her window. She thought of other Christmas Eves. Christmas Eves of huge meals in the kitchen and candle light shimmering from garlands hanging from the ceiling. Christmas Eves of games and 'little' presents. Excitement and picture taking under the tree. The hanging of stockings , cheese balls, and punch bowls. She closed her eyes and thought of the times of Santa and the soft tip toeing as presents were put under the tree.
She could hear something. A horn? An alarm? Surely not time to get up yet. No alarm was set. Probably just a dream. Ignore it. Probably some snowmobilers roaring around on Christmas Eve.
Are you going to give me more, or is the rest up to my imagination????
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