During summer, every time I went to town with Dad to grind feed, I hoped he would buy a package of my favorite candy or gum. Not at feed mill, of course. They didn't sell Teaberry gum or Lifesavers at feed mill. But if we went to restaurant for pie while we waited for our feed, or if Mom had asked Dad to pick up a couple of things at grocery store, I would try to talk him into buying some gum or candy.

Going to feed mill with Dad was a summertime activity, however, and there were long stretches during school year when I never even saw a package of Teaberry gum or a roll of Lifesavers, much less had any in my possession.

So what was Dad talking about when he had stopped truck and said, "wintergreen?"

I stared at embankment and then at hill beyond but I couldn't see anything out of ordinary. I shut truck door behind me just as Dad scrambled nimbly up bank into woods.

"It's growing all over here," he said, pointing to ground. "They've got berries, too."

I struggled up bank behind him to get a closer look. Underfoot were small plants with shiny green leaves.

"That green stuff is wintergreen?" I said.

My father nodded. "Like what they use to make gum?"

"Yup. Here. Taste."

He reached down and picked a couple of small, pinkish-red berries, popping one into his mouth and handing one to me.

I sniffed berry. It smelled like wintergreen, all right, but I wasn’t one bit sure about eating thing.

"Taste it," Dad urged. "You'll be surprised."

So, I ate berry. It had a strange consistency -- sort of dry and mushy, all at same time. . .and then my mouth was filled with marvelous taste of wintergreen. The same as my favorite gum, but different, too. More delicate.

"It's good!" I exclaimed, grinning. Then I frowned. "How come we haven't seen it before?"

"Usually too much snow by this time," Dad said.

"What about in summer, though?"

"Too much underbrush and other green things."

"And this is really stuff they use in gum?" I asked.

Dad took his cap off, slapped it against his leg to rid it of snow and then put it back on his head.

"Well. . .they probably don't go into woods and pick wild wintergreen. People probably raise it and sell it, and I think they might use leaves rather than berries, but yes, this is stuff."

By now snow was falling so hard it made a hissing noise as it struck copper-colored oak leaves above us. Unlike other trees, some of oaks, I had noticed, keep their leaves until spring.

"How do you know so much about wintergreen?" I asked.

"Oh," Dad said, "when we were kids, we used to pick it so we could make ice cream."

I turned to look at him. "Ice cream?" "Our kind of ice cream, anyway. A little dish of snow with winter-green berries mixed in."

Suddenly I struck upon a wonderful idea.

"I know! I can try some right now."

I took off my mitten, picked a few wintergreen berries and scooped a small handful of fluffy, fresh snow. I put berries in snow, and -- well -- I have to admit it was pretty tasty.

I put my mitten back on. "Didn't you have real ice cream when you were growing up, Dad?"

My father smiled. "Sure -- sometimes. Not store bought, though. We made our own with a hand-cranked ice cream freezer. But that was mostly in summertime. We thought wintergreen ice cream was an awful lot of fun."

Dad had been middle child among several older brothers, an older sister, and three younger sisters. My grandparents had worked as cooks in a lumber camp in northern Wisconsin in early 1900s. Many years ago, long before I was born, Dad had made his living cutting pulp wood.

"Daddy? How did you see wintergreen from road?" I asked.

My father hesitated before answering. "I didn't see it. Not today, at least."

I stopped trying to adjust my mitten so thumb lined up like it was supposed to and turned my full attention toward Dad.

"Remember last fall, when county forester came out here?" he asked.

"Yeah, I remember."

Just on other side of small wooded hill was a two-acre stand of tall red pine with a couple of rows of white pine next to road. Dad said trees were among oldest of plantations in county that had been planted just after Great Depression to keep sandy soil from eroding. Nearly every year, forester would come out to check on them. One year he used Dad's pine trees to demonstrate a brand new trimming device to foresters from other counties.

Well," Dad continued, "while we were out here, I decided to take a little walk. I don't get much of a chance just to walk around back here."

"And that's when you saw wintergreen?" Dad nodded. "I was waiting for right opportunity to show it to you."

He turned back toward truck. "It'll be dark soon. We'd better get home. The cows are waiting to be milked."

As we slid down embankment, I glanced over my shoulder.

Wintergreen.

Growing in woods not far from my house.

And in that instant, I knew gum and candy would never again taste quite same.

The candle will be set in about 30 minutes. Let candle stand for another hour or two until most of ice cubes are melted. Pour off water. Peel off carton. Place candle in a tray or on a plate to catch rest of water from ice cubes as they finish melting. Let candle dry for a day or two.

The candles I have made with a single piece of string only burn for an hour or so and burn quickly enough so that most of paraffin remains intact. To use paraffin again, melt candle and pour wax into other containers to make solid candles.

~ Solid Candles ~

To make solid candles, select several glass containers. Pint or half-pint canning or jelly jars work well. For wick, measure out a few more inches of string than is needed to reach bottom of container. Tie string around a pencil. Put pencil across top of container to hold wick in place. When paraffin and crayons are melted, pour liquid wax into container(s). When candle is set, snip off wick about a half inch above wax.

~ Scented Candles ~

To make scented candles, put three or four teaspoons of vanilla extract into bottom of double boiler (or coffee can) and then add paraffin and crayons. When wax is melted, pour into containers.

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