Sunday, December 30, 2018


I have always loved our Upper Midwest winter sunshine. Melting snow (what little we have) drips from your roof, hens plod their way through slushy terrain. Delicate light that fills your house with a warm glow.

We wake up to this sunshine. It's a late morning for us, compensating for a late night, as Ed streamed videos about damaged knees to make me laugh at my own discomfort (for some reason the knee likes to act up at night).

Ed helps with animal care, possibly to keep an eye on my movements. I'm careful today!

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Breakfast in the sunny front room!

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As we eat our beautifully leisurely meal, I look around Snowdrop's play space. It really needs a good tidying job. Am I up for it?

I have to be. We're starting a new year, Snowdrop's birthday is around the corner (I have ideas for that!) -- the play space begs for an update!

By mid afternoon, I've exhausted my knee's good will. I rest, watching the path of the sun as it moves across the farmette landscape.

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The young family arrives for dinner just as darkness sets in. Winter Sunday dinners are always after nightfall.

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I make tacos for them. Shrimp tacos, because Ed wont eat beef and Snowdrop prefers shrimp to any meat out there. Well, perhaps bacon and prosciutto are equally high on her list, but I just don't think those are a good fit with a taco shell. (Yes, I do the shell rather than the tortilla. I thought she'd like to crunch her way through dinner. She does.)

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So long as our species populates the planet, there will be family dinners -- I'm sure of it. People will gather at the table and forget for a while all the ills of the world, enjoying the food and the warmth of each others presence.

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Oh all the things I have done in my life, I would argue that none are more important than cooking meals for the people I love.