The Rural Voice, 2003-12, Page 8404
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BOOKS!
CALENDARS &
DECAL SETS FOR
CHRISTMAS
2004 CALENDARS
Classic Tractors Fever
2004 (Dupont) $12.95
Motorbook's John Deere or
International Farmall $13.95
Country Store's
Old Iron $11.95
Cowlandar $11.95
Pig Calendar $11.95
The Magnificent Horse $11.95
Birds and Blooms $11.95
Barns $11.95
Just Desserts $11.95
Taste of Home $11.95
Country Calendars $11.95
NEW PUBLICATIONS
(BOOKS)
John Deere Farm Toys $40.40
John Deere Tractors Legacy $49.95
John Deere Industrials $33.75
John Deere Small Tractors $31.20
The Big Big Book of
Farmall Tractors $49.95
Farmall Cub and Cub Cadet. $32.20
Legendary Farm Tractors. $31.20
Also Massey, Ford, Oliver, M.M., Allis
Chalmers, and general tractor books.
Manuals and Decal sets for older
tractors and stationary engines.
Replacement new reproduction parts
for tractors.
VIDEOS
Tractor and Farm videos, automotive
books, etc.
r;
Jiappv 214liday6 a au
eAps Utah: -
Phone or fax orders
(Please do not send money)
Hours: Mon. to Fri. 9-12 & 1-5
Other times by appointment
HAUGHOLM BOOKS
R.R. 1, 40372 Mill Rd.,
Brucetleld, Ont. NOM 1J0
Ph. 519-522-0248 Fax 519-522-0138
4 THE RURAL VOICE
Imimmmk
Carol Riemer
Colour it Christmas
Carol Riemer
is a freelance
writer who
lives with her
husband and
two
children near
Grand
Valley,
Ontario.
On a clear, star-studded night, in
the cold icy glare of a winter moon,
the only sound I can hear is the
crunch of the frozen ground beneath
my feet. In the distance. a car
approaches, its bright white
headlights sweeping across the empty
fields. I stop to watch, as it
disappears over the hill, plunging
the countryside back into darkness.
The warm glow coming from our
kitchen window safely guides me
back to the house. With an armful of
firewood, I brush past the pine -cone
wreath on the door, deposit the wood
in the corner, and toss my coat over a
nearby chair.
The conversation, filtering in from
the livingroom, has suddenly turned
to laughter.
Flickering images from an old
movie projector fill the darkened
room. It's Christmas, 1957. Outside,
my father is putting the final touches
on the Christmas lights. And that
little girl over there, the one with the
ponytail and the fluffy red earmuffs,
that's me, still blissfully unaware of
just how amusing I will become,
years later, to my own children.
"Was everything black and white
in those days?" my daughter asks,
between chuckles.
"Sure," I reply, not really paying
much attention.
Television was black and white, I
think to myself. The newspaper, the
telephone, photographs ...
"Yes, everything was black and
white," I assure her. My son grimaces
at the thought.
But then, I recall those bygone
days, leading up to the holidays, in
greater detail. Days when my legs,
covered only with knee socks and a
thin woolen skirt, turned bright red
on the long, snowy trek to school.
And times, when I was so completely
absorbed by the colourful lights ori
stage, that I forgot my Tines in the
Christmas play. Upon closer
inspection, it appears that things were
not always black and white.
Our Christmas tree, for instance,
was initially a deep shade of green,
but it would soon begin to fade, its
needles thinning with each successive
day. It didn't matter if we visited a
tree farm, or purchased our tree at
the tree lot. It always seemed to lean
in one direction or another. Still,
the scent of pine was intoxicating,
and with the tree draped in tinsel and
garlands, laced with silver bells and
wrapped in a string of bright.
multicoloured lights, one could not
help but be blinded to its more
natural imperfections.
Christmas presents were a
tempting combination of mystery and
expectations, carefully wrapped in
colourful paper and elaborate bows. I
remember that the sleigh I got for
Christmas one year, appeared only
marginally more vivid than my
scarlet face after hours of sliding
down the hills near our home. My red
and blue mitts, hidden under a thick
coating of ice and snow, nevertheless,
fashionably matched the hand -knitted
toque that kept falling over my eyes.
At the end of the day, I was glad
to be home again, having navigated
my new red sleigh across an endless
white sea. Glad to be sipping hot
chocolate, warming my frozen
fingers by the fire, and gingerly
sampling a tray of shortbread
cookies, decorated with red and green
glazed cherries. They were colourful
times, recorded forever in black and
white. A little bit of family history;
something to amuse the kids on a
cold winter night.
"If you really want to know what
it was like back then," I lean over,
and whisper to my daughter, "there's
a simple way to find out. Just colour
it Christmas."0