To Grandma Sandy's We Go...

My childhood home...

Today the weather was absolutely beautiful, and cabin fever had set in for Jordan and Jamie, finally fever-free after seventy-two hours of Gatorade, chicken broth and crackers.

We bundled up and headed to Grandma Sandy and Grandpa Bobby’s house. Nothing feels better than pulling-up to the house where you grew up to watch your own children eat at the same kitchen table, hang out in the same living room, and sleepover in your old bedroom.

After more than a few servings of Grandma Sandy’s famous cinnamon toast (because God knows I never feed my children and no one can butter toast like Grandma), we jumped into Grandpa Bobby’s minivan and headed out to the local forest preserve for some much needed fresh air and sunshine.

I love the great Midwest winter effect, that after a few weeks of sub-arctic temperatures, the thermometer breaking past forty feels downright balmy. Winter coats were shed, long sleeve sweatshirts intact, we drove less than ten minutes to find ourselves in deer country.

Bambi...

Yes, we broke the rules, Mr. Unknown Forest Preserve Officer. We did feed the deer, mostly fruit and vegetable peelings, enough to get the herd through until the next family drove through with goodies. Once spring arrives, our family stops the feeding cycle, and allows Mother Nature to take care of her own flock.

Unafraid yet wisely shy, the deer’s ears perk up and tails begin to swish when they hear the opening of the car doors and rustling of the plastic bags. They watch with great concentration as you place your humble offering on the snow, and as you walk slowly back to your car they quickly approach the food, both the deer you had spotted and the many others camouflaged by the thick trees, shadows and snow.

Hanging ten?

The sun felt warm on our faces, the breeze was cool not cold, and we quickly snapped a few pictures of these majestic creatures, so dainty yet so hearty to withstand the bitter winter. For a moment I caught the gaze of a younger doe that had been studying my son. I wondered what she was thinking, chewing on carrot peels and watching a young boy in a bright blue snow jacket.

As the sun sank lower, it grew cooler and it was time to head back home to Plainfield. As we pulled out of the forest preserve, my daughter’s eagle eye noticed a possum hanging from a tree. We’re still not sure what it was doing, but it made one hell of a funny picture, and the end to a perfect day.