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	Wintergreen Part 4 by LeAnn R. Ralph
Astrology, Tarot, and Self Improvement for the New Age.

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Wintergreen
Part 4
by LeAnn R. Ralph

Page: 1 2 3 4

"How do you know so much about wintergreen?" I asked.

"Oh," Dad said, "when we were kids, we used to pick it so we could make ice cream."

I turned to look at him. "Ice cream?"

"Our kind of ice cream, anyway. A little dish of snow with winter-green berries mixed in."

Suddenly I struck upon a wonderful idea.

"I know! I can try some right now."

I took off my mitten, picked a few wintergreen berries and scooped a small handful of fluffy, fresh snow. I put the berries in the snow, and -- well -- I have to admit it was pretty tasty.

I put my mitten back on. "Didn't you have real ice cream when you were growing up, Dad?"

My father smiled. "Sure -- sometimes. Not store bought, though. We made our own with a hand-cranked ice cream freezer. But that was mostly in the summertime. We thought wintergreen ice cream was an awful lot of fun."

Dad had been the middle child among several older brothers, an older sister, and three younger sisters. My grandparents had worked as cooks in a lumber camp in northern Wisconsin in the early 1900s. Many years ago, long before I was born, Dad had made his living cutting pulp wood.

"Daddy? How did you see the wintergreen from the road?" I asked.

My father hesitated before answering. "I didn't see it. Not today, at least."

I stopped trying to adjust my mitten so the thumb lined up like it was supposed to and turned my full attention toward Dad.

"Remember last fall, when the county forester came out here?" he asked.

"Yeah, I remember."

Just on the other side of the small wooded hill was a two-acre stand of tall red pine with a couple of rows of white pine next to the road. Dad said the trees were among the oldest of the plantations in the county that had been planted just after the Great Depression to keep the sandy soil from eroding. Nearly every year, the forester would come out to check on them. One year he used Dad's pine trees to demonstrate a brand new trimming device to foresters from other counties.

Well," Dad continued, "while we were out here, I decided to take a little walk. I don't get much of a chance just to walk around back here."

"And that's when you saw the wintergreen?"

Dad nodded. "I was waiting for the right opportunity to show it to you."

He turned back toward the truck. "It'll be dark soon. We'd better get home. The cows are waiting to be milked."

As we slid down the embankment, I glanced over my shoulder.

Wintergreen.

Growing in the woods not far from my house.

And in that instant, I knew gum and candy would never again taste quite the same.

From the book: Christmas In Dairyland (True Stories From a Wisconsin Farm)

(c) 2003 LeAnn R. Ralph, All rights reserved.

LeAnn R. Ralph is a newspaper reporter in Wisconsin.

She is the editor of the Wisconsin Regional Writer (the quarterly publication of the Wisconsin Regional Writers' Assoc.) and is the author of the book: Christmas In Dairyland: (True Stories From a Wisconsin Farm) (August 2003).

Share the view from Rural Route 2 and celebrate Christmas during a simpler time. Click here to read sample chapters and other Rural Route 2 stories ... Rural Route 2

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An act of terrorism totally outside the bounds of international law and diplomatic tradition: a crisis that calls for firmness and restraint.
~ Jimmy Carter ~
Born October 1, 1924

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Last updated January 10th, 2005

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