I'm on my way to my daughter's place for the family Christmas gathering. Both girls are here with their husbands. Their father is here as well. Predictably, everyone wants to see the nursery...
Right now, this one is the family littlest one, but not for long...
Presents! Let's get to them! Islay scarves anyone?
This morning, if I were to pick a song that would be most fitting to the occasion, I would, perhaps pick this one -- A Christmas Wish, sung by Kermit the Frog:
Remarkable that I should be here, scribbling away (yes, scribbling! typing quickly is a form of scribbling!) even as the breakfast dishes are still dripping water after their quick wash. And here's a small bonus (or burden, depending on how you look at it) -- this isn't my main post. I should be good for the usual evening one that summarizes what happened in this rather quiet corner of the planet. But I did think that it would be rather unfriendly of me to write then "Merry Christmas" (for those who observe the holiday) when most people are actually long done with the celebration and are in fact looking to move on. I know some people -- me, for example -- who stop listening to holiday music the minute the last wisp of desert is licked off the Christmas dinner plate. So what good is it to turn to blogs and learn that someone at that point sends you their best wishes for a Merry Christmas?
I only have a minute though. The northerners are nearly here and, too, I made a deal with Ed -- he'll let me trim his beard if I first do yoga and so I must do some modicum of poses to satisfy my part of the bargain.
The morning has been a wonderful blur of beauty. Perhaps you don't see it. Nothing stands out. There was a morning visit with the cheepers...
(the girls all left gifts for us today and yes, Scotch consistently lays the largest egg...)
And there was breakfast. Oh! But let me pause a little here, because breakfast was in fact different. Not elaborately so, but I did take out my creamy white place mats and I pretended we had good table manners and put out napkins as well (the sleeve wont do for Christmas!). And our store had this week a wonderful, wonderful brioche which is so very perfect for French toast that I made some and we both had it for breakfast -- accompanied by the yummy honey rhubarb that I cooked up this past spring when our rhubarb was exploding.
So we're off to a good start.
But the real beauty to the morning came a few minutes later when there was a real break in the clouds and I jumped up with my camera to catch it before it slipped away and I would have no proof of its appearance. Here it is:
Yes, a wisp of sunshine!
That's enough! I need no other present from this day.
Well fine, I'll take that family gathering at my daughter's house. Oh, but let me not jump ahead. I really did just want to wish you a delightfully merry Christmas! I hope it rocks to the rhythm of your soul!
Email me at nlcamic (at) gmail (dot) com if you would like any Ocean image in any redbubble.com form or fashion, or if you want to brighten my day with your thoughts and reflections!
The Great Writing Project
Like a Swallow is a finalist in the Maxy Awards for Best Memoir of 2022. Click on image, or buy now on Amazon or Bookshop.org!
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New OCEAN readers take note!
Hey, new readers! If you want a quick summary of how it is that I came to blog, read this:
It is the year 2004. My two daughters are away at college (younger one) and law school (older one). Wow. Suddenly I have time to write! Not big stuff. Little stuff. Bloggy stuff. And so on January 2, I start to post on Ocean. I test styles, I add photos. Things evolve.
Over the years, I tell you just a little about my past life. You’ll have found out that I was born in Poland, but due to my dad’s diplomatic career, I spent some childhood years in New York. Eventually, as a young adult, I moved back to the United States. I married, had kids, went to law school. And after a short stint at a law firm, I came back to the University of Wisconsin Law School, this time as a faculty member.
I taught law for twenty-five years and then took early retirement so that I could hatch new ideas and immerse myself in other projects. In the meantime, my marriage ends, my daughters graduate from law schools (both of them!), life moves forward.
I meet Ed. On line, then in person. Ed is his own guy. Ed is Ed. One date and we are together.
I’m done with suburbs: I live downtown. First in an apartment loft, then a condo. Ed is indifferent to the apartment and hostile to the condo. Ed likes life in his sheep shed. He travels to see me daily, but never tires of calling my brilliantly clever living arrangement ...a dump. (Ed: if I wanted to live in buildings like this, I would have stayed in New York.)
Five years after meeting Ed, I pack up my dwindling belongings and move to a farmhouse on his land (just south of Madison). We renovate it. Ohhhh, the farmhouse needs it! A hundred years of issues. But, Ed has skills and he has time. With the help of a small construction team, the place is patched, mended, finished and (in April of 2011) I move in.
Alright. That’s the chronology. Here’s what else you might want to know: I love our farmette (it's not really a farm anymore), but I am very often on the road. Away. Ed used to tag along. I have been known to call him my occasional travel companion. These days, he prefers to stay home and look after the chickens.
Anything else? My younger daughter lives with her husband and their little ones (Primrose and Juniper) in Chicago, my older one teaches right here at UW in Madison. She and her husband have a little girl (Snowdrop) and two little boys (Sparrow and Sandpiper). This makes me a grandma!
That’s it. Anything else you’ll have to pick up by reading along. Curious about my childhood in postwar Poland? Pick up my book, Like A Swallow!
