A Journey Complete

I never get tired of warbler stalking: time spent with my camera walking through the brushy thickets avoiding wet feet, swatting mosquitoes, checking for ticks, all the while listening and looking for the tell tail sign of warblers.

My favorite? All of them but especially any warbler who comes out in the open long enough to allow me to focus and capture a terrific image.

The truth is - I could fill an external hard drive with images of the Common Yellowthroat. The males look like little bandits with their black face mask with a fuzzy white border. In flight (low to the ground) their olive brown color is a perfect camouflage. But once they land their bright yellow is unmistakable.

You hear them long before you see them - by the time you zero in on their proximity, they will have moved; usually not far but gone nonetheless. A twitch of green, a momentary flash of yellow gives them away. Before they are gone. Again.

What is also unmistakable is their song ... a bold "wichity-wichity-wichity" that heralds the arrival of that wonderful season: almost summer.

Like all energetic warblers the Common Yellowthroats are elusive and nearly impossible to photograph. They rarely are seen "in the open" - they prefer to stay close to thick vegetation on the ground. A solitary bird, they can be seen in pairs but it is the male who is first to make the long trek from Central America, Mexico or the Caribbean.

It never ceases to amaze me to think about these tiny birds - 5 inches in length with a 7 inch wing span - following an unknown call that compels them to wing their way across open water, through farmlands, forests and cities to make their way back to a small section of land in northeastern Wisconsin and announce the arrival of summer.

"A Journey Complete." Digital Image. May 22, 2013. Original photography

Copyright (c) Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski 2013

A Year Of Creativity #135: Bloom Where You're Planted

Spring was late in arriving this year - it felt as if the winter of 2012-2013 was the never ending season. The morning after a day 'up north' which produced 30+ mph winds, sleet, rain and numerous snow squalls, I took a walk down the driveway. I was so intent on getting out to the road that I walked right by the patch of white hidden in the raspberry brush. I retraced my steps to find a patch of sanguinaria canadensis, otherwise known as Blood Root hidden among the brown of last years oak and elm leaves. 

It was a struggle to get though the tangle of raspberry brush and while the light wasn't at its best, I was happy to bring home an image of what feels like the first true sign of spring. Sometimes capturing the moment is more important than the perfect conditions. 

"Bloom Where You're Planted: Blood Root." Digital Image. May 13, 2013.

Copyright (c) Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski 2013

Wordless Wednesday: Wedding at the Cabin, Song in the Meadow

                                  "Wedding at the Cabin, Song in the Meadow." Digital Image. September 7, 2002.

Original photograph privately held by Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski.

Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories - Dec. 5 Outdoor Decorations

Did people in your neighborhood decorate with lights?

Did some people really go “all out” when decorating?

Any stories involving your ancestors and decorations?

Outdoor decorations were few and far between when I was growing up, at least what I can recall. It seems to  me that most "outdoor decorations" were Christmas trees set up in front of the living room window, facing the street, with the drapes open.

My paternal grandparents had electric set of three candles that were set in one the dining room windows that faced the alley. Do you remember alleys from your childhood? Gram's faced the Olson's; my sister Lisa took her first road test down this same alley when she was quite young but that story is for another post.

When we lived in Green Bay during the early to mid 1960s, outdoor decorations became more prevalent. I can recall my parents taking my sisters and I out for nighttime drives to "look at the lights." Today, our local newspapers print a list of outdoor holiday decorations complete with addresses for those who still enjoy this Christmas tradition.

"Remember when the Hanson's Christmas lights kept us up at night?" One of the Bergeron family stories involves a family in our Green Bay neighborhood who kept their Christmas lights up all year long. That in itself wasn't so bad but even I could not find that warm fuzzy Christmas spirit when the lights were on when the heat and humidity of July made it impossible to sleep at night. It was necessary to keep our bedroom windows open for the chance of a breeze (slim to none) but the full glory of the Hanson Christmas in July celebration, complete with the family singing carols, loudly, filled our room.

As much as I love tiny lights on a Christmas tree, I become nostalgic at the sight of "old fashioned" red, green, blue and yellow lights strung on an evergreen on display. Our first home had two yew trees on both side of our front porch, the perfect size for a string of outdoor lights. For this Wisconsin native, born and raised in the upper Midwest, the sight of  the lights glowing in the dark with a covering of snow in the month of December touches my heart at Christmas.

We have always hung a wreath on the front of our house. When the weather has cooperated and Al has had the time, we have had outdoor light displays: one year we had blue lights along the roof line prompting our neighbor to call and tell us how much he enjoyed the view out his front window. "Peaceful" was the word he used.

One of my favorite outdoor decorations is the year Jeff and Al strung my favorite outside lights at the cabin. It isn't something that we do every year so this scene, like my childhood memories, is one I carry with me. Thanks to Nikon, I'm able to enjoy the memory whenever the spirit moves me.

Wordless Wednesday: Deer Camp 2010

Digital Image. Copyright (c) Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski. 2010

Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories 2010 - Dec. 1 The Christmas Tree

Christmas. The mere mention of the word brings to mind a flood of emotions and memories all of which are tied to the sights, smells and traditions unique to each of us and shared with family. Central to our Christmas decoration is the tree and for that, we owe a debt of gratitude to Prince Albert for popularizing Christmas tree decorations. In 1841, following the German custom of his homeland, Prince Albert set up a tree at Windsor Castle. The London News published a now-famous illustration of the Christmas Tree at Windsor Castle which set the standard for how a tree might be expected to look. It wasn't long before the standard of the Christmas Tree at Windsor Castle replaced the custom of the Kissing Bough: a mixed piece of greenery which included mistletoe, evergreens, candles, apples and cinnamon sticks.

In 1854 a huge Christmas tree was placed at the site of the 1851 Great Exhibition at the Crystal Palace, a personal triumph for Prince Albert, which help increase the demand for Christmas trees. But the association of the fir tree with Christianity began long before Prince Albert. Tradition says St. Boniface, who converted the German people to Christianity almost 1,000 years ago, came across a group of pagans worshiping the oak tree and in anger cut down the tree. In its place a fir tree is said to have sprung up from the roots of the oak which St. Boniface took as a sign of the Christian faith.

From Illustrated London Times, 1848

There is a long line of cultures what have treasured the evergreen and have included them in their celebrations. On the arrival of the winter solstice, ancient Egyptians brought green date palms into their homes; the Romans celebrated Saturnus, the god of agriculture, by decorating their homes with greens and lights; the Druids of Great Britain used evergreens during their winter solstice rituals and used holly and mistletoe as symbols of eternal life and placed evergreen boughs over their doors to keep away evil spirits.

During the American Revolutionary War, Hessian troops introduced the custom to the fledgling American population along with German immigrants in Pennsylvania and Ohio but the custom was slow to spread. Puritans banned Christmas in New England; schools in Boston stayed open on Christmas Day until 1871, students who stayed home were sometimes expelled.

So with a tip of the crown to Prince Albert, here are a few of my favorite Christmas tree photos and memories.

One of my earliest memories of Christmas, celebrated at 'the farm' in 1958 with my maternal grandparents, Harley and Alma Polar Space. I am in the middle clutching my bride doll, my sister Lisa on the right, age 10-months, and second cousin, Patty, on the left. I vividly recall not being able to get to sleep on Christmas Eve and my father bringing me downstairs with the hope I would go to sleep in my grandmother's room. Fat chance of that happening after I caught a glimpse of my doll, in all her wedding glory, front and center under the tree.

Christmas 1966 in Madison, WI. This began the Bergeron family tradition of having two trees: one in the living room and the other in the family room. This was the upstairs living room tree. That is me, sporting the Twiggy hair style showing off my guitar to my youngest sister Lori while adorable pixie bob Michelle looks on.

Christmas 1970 in Madison, the downstairs tree.

Christmas in Eau Claire at my parents house, circa 1990, the upstairs tree overlooking the wonderful mayhem of Christmas morning.

The one and only Christmas we spent 'up north' at our cabin, about 1991. Al, Chris and Jeff headed off with the four-wheelers to cut down the tree with Christmas snow falling. No lights or ornaments, I had brought up every one's stockings and garland but it is one of my fondest Christmas memories.

 Our millennium Christmas taken in our family room in Plover. All I've ever wanted for Christmas: cockers under the tree.

My fondest childhood Christmas memories are wrapped up with my paternal grandparents, Charles and Mildred Little Bergeron. Bubble lights in the front window and the Christmas tree in the corner. My grandmother had a set of village pieces that she set up on the buffet in the dining room. A precursor to Dept 56 pieces and one of traditions I continue with my own collection of Dickens Village pieces. But that is for another post.

"Every day, during the week the tree stood there, Francie put on her sweater and stocking cap and went in and sat under the tree. She sat there and enjoyed the smell of the dark greenness of it. Oh, the mystery of a great tree, a prisoner in a tin bucket in a tenement front room!"  Excerpt from "The Christmas Tree in Brooklyn. Betty Smith. 1943 

Lessons Learned Thanks To Grandpa

Grandparents have been described as "one of nature's way that we often feel closer to distant generations than to the generation immediately preceding us." (Igor Stravinsky). I know this is to be true. Time spent with my grandparents gave me a wonderful foundation for my family history research.  But in the midst of  recounting the names and stories of ancestors I discovered lessons learned from my grandparents.

My mother was an only child, her parents knew each other all their lives and married when they both were well in to their 20s: they were married ten years before my mother was born. When they became grandparents, it was apparent their granddaughters were going to be the center of their world.

Some of my fondest memories are of the times I spent on my grandparent's dairy farm. Learning how to call in the cows for milking, riding along with Grandpa on the tractor while he mowed, tapping maples in the spring and cooking down the sap to make syrup, picking hazelnuts and butternuts in the fall, catching night crawlers to fish. My grandmother shared her love of history and books - my grandfather his love of nature. Both gifts I still carry with me today.

Fast forward forty years: our family vacation home, a four-season log 'cabin' located on the original dairy farm where I spent my childhood years remains the place central to my life. Earlier this month my family gathered for the 9-day gun deer season at our cabin, a tradition I know my grandfather would have been pleased to know was being carried forward. Hunting was a major part of my grandfather's life; being out in woods with friends who also looked forward to time spent "at deer camp."  He lived long enough to see his grandson-in-law establish shared hunting traditions at 'the farm' and his great-grandson's first hunting seasons. I wish he had lived to see his oldest granddaughter shoot her first buck.

Wisconsin Gun Deer Season, November 1945. Harley Space far left in black/white coat. Digital Image.

Original photograph privately held by Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski. 2010

Recently a friend lamented the coming of winter, in addition to the cold, chapped hands and lips, she said she "hated that there was no color in the world" until spring. While walking out of my deer stand, I was struck by the beauty of the woods: the many shades of brown in the leaves covering the ground, remnants of last night's sleet among the moss on an oak tree, ferns refusing to relinquish their grip even in the midst of snow. I can hear my grandfather's voice pointing out the beauty of 'the out of doors."

Thank you Grandpa.

Copyright (c) 2010 Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski

A Time of Reflection and Jubilee

It never ceases to amaze me how smart my parents have become! My Dad is famous for his "ism's," several of which I have shared in my blog. Some of them are parental ("you'll appreciate this as you get older"), a couple apply to any situation in life, such as the time I was losing  my patience with a customer visiting our family's women's retail store to which he replied, "Remember, she is someones grandmother. How would you like your grandmother to be treated?" Several, such as "Plaid or Plain?"  and his reply of "Well, I won't walk across the street for it" in response to being asked how he liked a new recipe - are now Bergeron family standards.

Sitting down to write this post, I was genuinely surprised to find my last blog post was August 25th. Where did the time go? In answer to my own question, I recall my Dad commenting on how much faster time seemed to go the older he got. I also remember rolling my eyes whenever he uttered that sentiment.

Reflecting over my morning coffee, I am amazed at how quickly the past few days and weeks have become months. It isn't until now that I see how I have allowed commitments both from within and without my life to take up so much of  my time and attention. I also realize those decisions of how to spend  my day rests with me. I've not listened to that voice that reminds me that no matter what I may plan for this afternoon, tomorrow or next week, all I am guaranteed is this moment. Even with Cindy's Birthday Celebration Month set to kick off tomorrow, I will be grateful for the celebration of this moment and set a course for a Jubilee year.

The Big Site of Amazing Facts (c) describes Jubilee as "a season of rejoicing" and comes from the ancient Hebrews. The site describes the history of Jubilee as "Fifty years after the Jews were freed from Egyptian bondage, they created a semi-centennial festival that lasted a full year within which all land would be left fallow and returned to its original owners."

My Jubilee is being observed by a re-dedication of living in the moment, listening to the inner voice that reminds me when I becoming caught up in the extra-curricular that fill up my days but can threaten to overtake my life.

The changing of the seasons is marked by the length of sunlight, the migration of the birds, the "jubilee" of the leaves of the trees and the passing of the summer flowers. My first act of celebration is to post a new blog header photograph, taken a few weeks ago from the 'front porch' of our cabin. As we make our way towards the winter solstice, the constellations take up new positions in the night time sky but even as they move, I can count of the north star to point me in the right direction.

Time does seem to be passing by much faster now that I am 57. It's amazing how smart my Dad has become as he prepares to celebrate his 81st birthday.

Copyright (c) 2010 Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski

What I Do When I'm Not Doing Genealogy

Aren't you thankful that Saturday Night Genealogy Fun is hosted by Randy Seavers instead of NBC? Who needs all that drama!! We can always rely on a good time - and no Sunday morning hangover! This week's mission (which I hope everyone has decided to accept is:


"Tell us about your "other" hobbies or interests outside of genealogy and family history research, writing, speaking, etc."


I'm a born-again stay at home Mom ... only in this chapter of my life, I am enjoying my role as Mom to adult children. Our oldest son (soon to be 36) and our beautiful daughter-in-law live in Michigan's Upper Penisula; son's #2 (age 33) and #3 (age 31) live nearby which allows for a lot of time to tell them how much their Mom loves them.


Photography is an activity I enjoy and share with my husband of almost 38 years, Al. Combined with outdoor activities, I am rarely without my camera.


I love to travel .... I have been fortunate to have made several trips to England and Scotland with my favorite traveling companion - my mother. Memories of each trip never fail to bring a smile to my face. It is a rare moment when I am in front of the camera so photo's such as the one below - taken at (one of) our favorite restaurants in London, Pont de la Tour, are special.

Dogs - like genealogy and family history research - has taken on a life of its own. From the moment I laid my hands on my first field bred English cocker spaniel, I knew they would always be a part of my life. It was also my introduction to the world of dog behavior and training. We purchased Casey from Badger Kennels in 1991 which was the start, as they say, of a beautiful friendship. Jim became my mentor, introducing me to upland bird hunting, something my husband had always enjoyed but now we added a merry little cocker to the hunting team. I will always be grateful for Jim sharing his wealth of knowledge on dog behavior and helping me understand the order of the pack. Our lives have been forever changed by each one of the cockers who have come into our live, each one unique and a joy to train and work with. The Anahar line was established in Scotland by Denis and Dorothy Douglas; having several of his dogs earn the title of Field Trial Champions. Now in their 80s, Denis and Dorothy have graciously opened up their home in Laurencekirk in Kincardineshire to Mom and I on several of our trips. Sixteen years after our first introduction to the Anahar cockers, we continue to work with Badger Kennels to keep the Anahar line of cockers going. Our son Jeff took the Anahar line in a new direction when, at his mother's insistance, he entered his dog Riley in a Dock Dog event. Proving little dogs can fly, Riley held the #2 position in the nation for dogs 17" and under, two years ago placing 7th at the national event.

                                                                              Photographer: Al Scherwinski

When the entire family gets together, a bit of dog hair in your potato salad is to be expected. In 2009 we lost two of our beloved dogs - matriarch, Emma (second from the left) at the age of 14 and her 12-year old girl, Lucy (far right). Seen in the photo below with my nieces, Alissa and Becky, is our son's Flat-Coated Retriever who is convinced she is one of the cockers.

When I'm not filling up my digital card and computer with photographs or running Camp Cocker - I am involved with the D.A.R. The Daughters of the American Revolution is a volunteer woman's service organization dedicated to historical preservation, education and patriotism. I made my application on John Space, who served from the state of New Jersey. John was a descendent of my mother's father's line. After informing my Mom we were making our application to DAR, she has enthusiastically added "Daughter" to her life description.

While it seemed as if helping others with their membership application and genealogy was a perfect fit for me in DAR - I have really enjoyed exercising my creative side. I am the editor of our chapter newsletter (which of course allows me a venue for my photographs as well as a chance to share my love of nature and silent sports). During the past state administration I served as editor of the state newsletter, created a monthly e-letter for the state regent, created all the handbooks for state events, magazine ad's ... if it looks like public relations and media, I have a hand in it. I also played a role in our state regent's successful campaign for the national office of Vice President General in 2009.

During this time, I produced two full size, full color calendars that were sold to benefit the State Regent's project. I was especially proud of the last calendar which was dedicated to our veterans. Between the State Regent and I, we were able to assemble our special family relics that spanned four generations of military service to our country for the cover shot.

Dubbed "the Daughter with the camera," I'm known for catching those moments that are not the standard "stand and smile" photographs - such as the petal perfect butter rosettes on our table during the State Officer Dinner.

Finding beauty in the ordinary and sharing my love of nature - passed on to me by my grandfather, shared with my husband and children - is what helps define who I am and keeps me centered when I'm not tracking down those elusive ancestors.

Copyright (c) 2010 Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski

Wordless Wedneday: Winter in Wisconsin Part II

Winter at my grandparents farm I posted last week. As promised, the photo Gram took of the snowman and I ... and the cat.

Copyright (c) 2010 Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski

Happy 101 Award

Lori at Genealogy and Me and Ruth Himan have both graciously gifted a Happy 101 Award. I was very surprised to 'open my gift' in a comment Lori left in response to my Treasure Thursday post, highlighting the journals of my grandmother Alma Polar Space. Ruth sent me a message via our connection on Facebook. Thank you. In the words of G.K. Chesterton I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought, and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.

Unlike trophies that collect dust eventually finding their way to a corner in your basement or attic, the Happy 101 Award comes with some accountability: to list 10 things that make me happy and 10 other bloggers who I will gift this award too. I hope that, if these blogs are unfamiliar to you, that you'll spend a few minutes. I guarantee they will soon become the favorite blogs in your life.

1. The knowledge that no matter what I encounter in my life, my faith will give me solid ground

2. The love and support of family.

3. The unconditional love of my dogs.

4. Spending time 'up north' no matter what the season.

5. Any time spent with my DAR 'sisters'

6. Planning a trip to Scotland.

7. Training or hunting with my English cockers.

8. Going anywhere with my husband in our '65 Mustang 2+2 Fastback.

9. Anytime spent on my bikes: mountain biking on a trail or on my road bike.

10. Listening to the sound of my children interacting in the next room.

1. Small-Leaved Shamrock

2. The Educated Genealogist

3. Cemetery Divas

4. CanadaGenealogy, or, 'Jane's Your Aunt'

5. Wild Rhododendrons

6. Moultrie Creek

7. The Chart Chick

8. Orations of OmcHodoy

9. Lost Family Treasures

10. Granite In My Blood

Wordless Wednesday

Winter frost "artwork" courtesy of Jack Frost, painted on the back storm door at the cabin. I snapped the photo through the screen giving the illusion of a needlepoint design.

Copyright Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski 2009

Wordless Wednesday

There's no place like home ...

Copyright 2009 Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski

Wordless Wednesday: Sisters 1960s

My sister Lisa and I spending part of our summer at our maternal grandparents. Today, my husband and I own the land and within the family we continue to call it simply "the farm." Our cabin sits beyond the maple tree, near the oak tree you can see in the background.

Copyright 2009 Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski

Wordless Wednesday

A chilly early Autumn sunrise "up north" Wisconsin

Copyright © 2009 by Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski

For The Record

Wise Geek describes an epiphany as "as a moment of self-realization or discovery that enlightens or reveals the person’s character." The site goes on to state that some compare an epiphany as a "Gestalt", an "Ah-ha" moment when things become clear. My friend Maureen and I call these "mascara moments" for the fact that they seem to drop down (or pop up) at the most unexpected moments - such as when you are concentrating on applying mascara. My latest mascara moment occurred on a 'hit and run' trip to the Langlade County court house.

It was during one of those rare three-day week-ends 'up north,' with the colors of early autumn splashed across the landscape and a clear blue sky. When I should have been out walking with my camera, instead I found myself on my way into town for groceries.


"If I take the back way into town, I can stop at the court house for a few minutes, hit the library if I uncover anything interesting and still get to the grocery store with the majority of day left for photography." I felt confident that I could stick to my plan of spending just a few minutes at the court house due to the fact my research folder was not in the same county. Not to mention that over age fifty brain fade lending me powerless to recall more than one research subject (pardon the pun) off the top of my head.


My intention was to check collateral lines (cluster genealogy) in search of additional information on former neighbors of my father's parents. The Olson's gave my mother several glass Christmas ornaments, two of which hold places of honor on our Christmas tree, high above the reach of cocker spaniel tails. Hoping to learn more about the Olson's, I reached for the marriage index which fell open to the section of grooms names in the 's' section. I was surprised to see the index page listing the marriage of mother's parents, Alma Loretta Polar and Harley Allen Space. A few pages later is the index marking the marriage record of my parents, Phyllis Jean Space and H. John Bergeron. My 'Ah-ha' epiphany mascara moment was the realization that contained within the marriage records of Langlade County were three generations of my family: my grandparents, my parents and my oldest son and daughter-in-law.








How many times have I advised family historians to research beyond their direct lines - look in surrounding counties - look for clues to other family members who may be living in the same area. My epiphany - my ah-ha moment - was the reminder of just how alive history is. This was not something that had occured in the past but it was history that was occuring at this very moment. I have many vivid memories of my grandparents, I am blessed to have both of my parents to share and make new memories with as well as with our son and daughter-in-law. Family history is not static but rather something to be looked at in wonder - it is not something that just happens a long time ago, it is happening right now and tomorrow will create today's history. My family history became something more real - it reminded me of the blessing we received during the evening celebration following Chris and Ashley's wedding.


Chris and Ashley chose to exchange vows on the lawn of our beloved 'up north.' A place my grandparents called home after relocating to the original forty acres after a fire destroyed their home and farm during the early 1940s. Where my mother spent part of her life, the place I was brought to after my birth in 1953 and where Al and I spent a portion of our honeymoon.


This was the first time many of their friends had been out on a moonless night, away from any ambient light. While many of them had been to an outdoor wedding, those had occured at a park, not in the middle of 240 acres. They were amazed to see so many stars and the Milky Way as it was meant to be seen - spread across the sky in a band of pale light. Around 11:00 a soft glow began in the northern sky and spread until the entire sky was alight with dancing and flickering northern lights. Nature's fireworks. Elusive, ever changing, unpredictable. I could be describing family research.

Copyright © 2008 by Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski

The Green Chair

The end of summer is ushered in when the evenings turn cool and begun to deepen, taking with it more and more of the daylight. Regardless of the date on the calendar, summer is gone when the Elcho Ice Cream Shoppe closes for the season. As that sad day draws near, our week-end trips north include at least one trip to Elcho. The drive itself is a joy as we wind past small lakes and across bogs on our way to the last of the summer time ice cream treat.

On our last ice cream trip for 2008, we took a side trip following a hand made sign advertising a Yard Sale. Imagine our surprise when we discovered the yard sale was at the former home of my second cousin, Allen. It has been five years since Allen's death, he and his wife Jeanetta were close to my grandparents. Allen was a favorite among my mother's cousins. His children and I have become closer over the years enjoying a bond that comes from an appreciation of our shared family history as well as the love and admiration for our respective parents.

Since his death, Allen's daughter, Karen, has become interested in family history. I know Allen is proud she has become the Keeper Of Everything for the family. Over the years I've been the fortunate recipient of boxes of letters and family memorabilia that Karen has discovered that pertain to my grandparents. Allen kept mountains of letters and notes and made numerous copies of documents and photographs. Sorting through the boxes and file cabinets is going to keep Karen busy now that she and her husband have retired.

The yard sale was the typical jumble of ash trays, souveniors from trips to various state and national parks, fishing rods and well used spinner baits. But it was the sight of a green wooden chair that stopped me in my tracks. I was immediately transported back to a time when I spent my summers with my grandparents.

When the heat of the day had passed and the sky was threatening rain, my grandfather would carry the green wooden chair outside and place it below my grandmother's bedroom window. He'd sit on the chair looking out across the western horizon, watching the darkening sky while I would turn cartwheels or look for toads. It has been many, many years since I have sat in that chair - I don't remember it being that small! - but it is something that has often crossed my mind.

We surmise that the chair made its way from the farm to Allen's when my grandmother had to be moved to a nursing home and my grandfather moved in with my parents. For whatever reason Allen took the chair. Thanks to his thrifty, never throw anything away, the chair has come full circle.

I now sit on the porch of our log home on the same piece of land watching storm clouds make their way across that same horizon and many of the same trees - matured from the time when Grandpa and I first watched the rain fall on them.

The price tag on the chair was $5.00 but none of my cousins would let us pay for the chair. A small price for a memory.

Text Copyright © 2008 by Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski
Photo Copyright © 2008 Al Scherwinski

With A Nod To Carl Sandburg

During the summer months one of my mother's favorite times is when the cool morning and evening air moves in on 'cat feet.' It reminds her of the Carl Sandburg poem, Fog; one that her Aunt Leona remembers memorizing as a child during the early 1900s.

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

With the exception of the poem, Fog, Copyright © 2008 by Cindy Scherwinski

Serious Girl Time

Without a doubt, one of the most important things in my life, is family. The term applies to immediate family, extended family, even those people who's company I enjoy as part of my 'biking family' or my 'D.A.R. family' or the chance to spend time with friends families. But nothing can compare to time spent with those family members who hold a very special place in my life and in my heart. Over the past few days I've had the chance to become reacquainted with my nieces, Alissa and Rebecca, who are visiting from their home in Iowa. Having known them from the time before they were born has a tendency to remind me that time flies my much too quickly; something I seem to recall my father telling me but never quite understood - until now. The time between playing dress-up, Strawberry Shortcake and Barbie's, until now seems to have flown by in an instant. They are now young women - beautiful, bright, articulate and funny - which makes up for time spent apart. I am honored that they would want to spend part of their vacation time with Uncle Al and Aunt Cindy. It does not surprise me that part of their request included time spent at 'the cabin.' The place where their grandmother spent so many years of her childhood - where she learned to sew by making clothes for the farm cats and heard the stories that made up her family history - and where later, their mother and I, along with our sisters spent our childhood, is part of their family history. We are blessed this piece of property still held within our family.

Laughter. It is the first word that will come to mind when I think back over the past few days. The laughter that was a result of family stories and memories their grandmother and I shared about our family and the laughter at moments that happened out of my sight. But what I will treasure the most, are the memories of laughter shared with these new memories. A day trip to Minocqua, standing in line at the Island Cafe waiting for a table on the patio, Becca overcoming her aversion to the smell of book stores to humor her aunt, winding our way through the mammouth arcade to locate the world's best ice cream. The laughter of sisters experiencing the freedom of riding 4-wheelers; the sound of their joy rising above the machines and echoing over the field. The memory of putting on jeans and sweatshirts, the smell of Off and wood smoke as we gathered in the twilight to roast marshmallows and wait for the stars to appear. And of course, laughter. The photographs will be treasured memories, capturing the moments that will bring a smile to our faces when we 'remember when' but won't capture the sound of laughter. The kind of laughter that brings tears to your eyes and takes your breath away - a reaction to a moment that reaches down to that place in your heart as only someone you love so completely can touch.

I will be forever grateful to the wonderful gift I received from these two beautiful young women, my nieces. Family.

Copyright © 2008 by Cindy Scherwinski