Lancer Writer’s Winter Challenge January 2025

 Lancer Writer’s Winter Challenge January 2025

Winter Memories

By Christine

 

The view from the window behind his desk. It’s been so many years since I’ve seen snow come down like this. Large, even fluffy, flakes; some wind but not a blizzard. A little smile played on his lips as he thought of the snowstorms of his childhood.  The Highlands knew a thing or two about storms of winter.   

 

The cold air near the window curled down his back, too cold to work at the desk.  Murdoch took the ledgers and moved closer to the fireplace.  The ledgers didn’t hold his attention, the thoughts of winter storms of long ago lingered.  The elders would foretell a storm from the aches in elbows and knees or the tea leaves at the bottom of a cup.  Da would have everyone busy, getting feed into the pasture, firewood, and peat for the fireplace and stove, and herding the barnyard animals to the barn. Ma would get to baking, bread and buns, and a pot of stew would be started over the fire.  The smells, and spices mingled with onion and from the door that connected the barn to the cottage a whiff of cow and chicken.

 

The sky to the north would darken, a color that could only mean snow, and the temperature would drop.  And then it would start, wind howling around corners and into the thatch, no other sounds as the snow muffled whatever creatures were still outside.  But in the cottage, there were sounds of Ma singing a bit as she worked, the girls laughing at playing cat’s cradle, Ian and I might be playing checkers – he was a wicked mean player.  Da would be mending a tool or sharpening a blade.  And then he’d put them aside and say, “time to get to work.” 

 

We piled on the vests and scarves and mittens and headed to the barn or pasture to tend the animals and make sure they were safe from the storm. Ma yelling out “Myne an hap up!” as we ventured outside.  Ian and I would drag a sled of hay, we’d take turns with an ax breaking ice on ponds. The Highland cattle were bred for the weather so we’d no fear of them freezing. Not like the cattle here at Lancer.  Murdoch didn’t want to think of what would happen to his herd if winter in the valley was like it was in the Highlands.

 

The arguments Ian and I  would have as we trudged up to the pasture, we’d argue over the sound of the snow, did it squeak or crunch, would it make good snowballs, would Ma give us a carrot for the snowman we’d have to help the girls build?  Coming in from the snow, Ma yelling to leave the snow outside and not shake on her dry rugs.  Some warm milk with a bit of honey, maybe some chocolate, and something warm from the oven ready for us.

 

The storm would break and the cold sun come out. Then work on the farm to clear any damage from the wind and snow.  There might be time for snowballs. Once we got back to school, there were some fierce fights in the schoolyard. 

 

Murdoch heard the sounds from the hacienda yard, work crews coming in.  That meant the boys were returning.  Now he heard whoops of laughter and yelling and what could only be the sound of a snowball making contact with a coat.

 

Gathering up his warm coat and gloves he walked toward kitchen “Teresa, can you make up some hot chocolate?”   She smiled “Of course.” 

“Good, I’m out to teach those boys how to throw a proper snowball!”

 

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Myne an hap up!”  Make sure to wrap up warm.