A Brown County
Winter’s Tale ~by Mark Blackwell
S
omewhere on a ridge, in the woods, on a January day, 100 years ago: Brang-dang-dang-dang! There goes the old Big Ben. Must be 5:00 already. I never will understand how morning comes around a good two hours before the sun gets up. I wish there was a way to save some daylight for mornings like this. Well, I best crawl out from under these comforters and fire up the stove. Dang, it is cold this morning. Jack Frost has painted frost-ferns on the windows and I can see my breath. On the good side, that means I ain’t froze to death yet. I am glad to see that the stove held some coals from last night. I just have to shovel some ashes out, throw in some kindling and a couple of splits of firewood. Speaking of firewood, I hope there’s still some stove wood left from yesterday for the cook stove. Nope, there ain’t. So, now it’s back to the bedroom for my boots and overalls. And while I’m heading out to split wood for the cook stove, I may as well take the thunder mug out to empty it in the privy. I slip my jacket on and head out into the snow.
54 Our Brown County Jan./Feb. 2022
It’s about 30 yards to the privy but it always seems farther the deeper the snow and the colder the day. Personal business taken care of, it’s time to make little sticks out of big ones. Alrighty, I’m back in the cabin with an arm-load of hickory. Time to fire up the old Kitchen Queen so Ma can bake some biscuits to go with my ham and eggs. Come to think of it, I better check the pantry to see if we have any eggs. The hens ain’t layin’ the way they was just a few weeks ago. But I don’t blame ’em. With weather like this I wouldn’t want to lay an egg either. While the stove’s warming up, I’ll go check for eggs. The chicken coop is built on the side of the cow shed
