Neillsville, Wisconsin. That's where I am today. Home to the world's largest talking cow; home to my grandparents, Cal and Fern; and home to a scant handful of other folks who are brave enough to bear the bitter cold and the lack of a Target. It's small. It's quaint. And it's in the middle of East Jesus Nowhere.
This morning, my dad and I strapped on some snow shoes, grabbed our ski poles, and ventured out into the field behind the house. We were out there for almost an hour, plowing through the Wisconsin underbrush, which eventually led to me picking burrs off of my Michael Kors puffer coat. It was worth it though! The beauty is indescribable.
This morning, my dad and I strapped on some snow shoes, grabbed our ski poles, and ventured out into the field behind the house. We were out there for almost an hour, plowing through the Wisconsin underbrush, which eventually led to me picking burrs off of my Michael Kors puffer coat. It was worth it though! The beauty is indescribable.
We followed deer tracks through the field and into the brush. We found a freshly dug cavern in the side of a hill where a bear may or may not have been hibernating. But we didn't see any wildlife other than a squirrel. We also passed two deer shanty hunter thingies. I'm not sure if they were occupied by hunters, but if they were, all they saw meandering past them was a silly girl in a puffer coat and snow shoes, sneezing violently and scaring away their supper. Whoopsies! Glad I didn't get shot at.
When I was a little girl, I would come up here for a week at a time to hang out with grandma and grandpa. Grandpa used to take me into his workshop and help me cut wood, nail it together, and build things. Grandma used to bake cookies with me. We picked berries, fished for bluegill in the canoe, and camped. The memories are fond, but whenever I reminisce about those visits, I am reminded by my grandfather that I was not an easy child to deal with at nighttime. I would sneak out of my room in the middle of the night, creep down the squeaky wooden stairs, and wake my grandparents up, announcing that I was way too freaked out to sleep.
When I was a little girl, I would come up here for a week at a time to hang out with grandma and grandpa. Grandpa used to take me into his workshop and help me cut wood, nail it together, and build things. Grandma used to bake cookies with me. We picked berries, fished for bluegill in the canoe, and camped. The memories are fond, but whenever I reminisce about those visits, I am reminded by my grandfather that I was not an easy child to deal with at nighttime. I would sneak out of my room in the middle of the night, creep down the squeaky wooden stairs, and wake my grandparents up, announcing that I was way too freaked out to sleep.
Grandpa Cal was not a fan of those nights. He thought it was utterly silly for a child to be afraid of a bedroom.
Two nights ago, I was reading a book to La in the upstairs "dormitory," where I slept as a child. La looked over at me and said, "Mama? This room is scary." I understood. I looked at her and replied, "this room used to scare me when I was a little girl too. But, you know what? It's not that scary!"
Then I looked around.
This is what I saw.
Two nights ago, I was reading a book to La in the upstairs "dormitory," where I slept as a child. La looked over at me and said, "Mama? This room is scary." I understood. I looked at her and replied, "this room used to scare me when I was a little girl too. But, you know what? It's not that scary!"
Then I looked around.
This is what I saw.
Hmmm. I'll admit, that closet IS a little bit frightening. And then there's the antlers.
And the knives and the guns, of course.
Maybe it is just a TINY bit scary.
But, it's the way of the Great North Woods. And La just has to get used to it like I did when I was a kid.
2 comments:
At least they have internet! Looks like you are having a blast. Happy holidays to you and your family!
Scary and hilarious!
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