By Carol Jacklin – Beaverlodge, Alta.
On Christmas morning, on our farm near Sexsmith, Alta., my bed was warm and comfortable when I heard dad call for help with the chores.
As I stepped out the door in the brisk air, I shivered with thoughts of my warm bed. Our Collie dog was happy to see me, but I was not so happy. At 14 years old, sleeping in would have hit the spot.
We fed square bales to a herd of about 30 cows and calves. Dad said to the cows: “Morning girls, it’s Christmas so you’ll get a couple more bales. Merry Christmas.”
I remember the pungent smell as we entered the barn. Our team of horses, Chub and Bob, snickered. Dad announced to the team, “a little more oats for you this morning, it’s Christmas.” The two milk cows got a little more chop that morning, too.
With chores complete as we entered the house, a lovely aroma of breakfast embellished my appetite. My heart was warmed with an appreciation for my parents’ teachings and their love and care for the animals and for us.
Happiness often sneaks in through a door you didn’t know you left open in your life.
