Welcome, 2019!
As I open the farmhouse door to the world outside, I see the gentle and exquisitely beautiful side of a Wisconsin winter.
The air is still. Every flake that fell last night is resting in its place: on a branch, on a twinkling holiday light...
The cheepers hear me. Out they march, braving the snow, plodding forward to where I am.
Slowly.
Stop Sign appears as well. Everyone wants their breakfast! They know I will deliver. And still, they all follow me, just in case it should slip my mind.
(Beloved farmhouse, nearly hidden in the snow)
(All fresh, all beautiful.)
Animals, fed, I step into a hot shower (nothing is as luxurious as a hot shower after a cold morning walk), then start in on breakfast. I change things around a bit: Whole Foods had a big sign yesterday stating that they make the best Challah in town! I bought it.
How well I know the Polish Chałka! It's a common bread there, though I'm guessing the Polish version does not follow the Jewish kosher rules that would keep butter out of the recipe (the real Challah is made with oil). The Challah tastes a little like a French brioche, but the latter, of course, is oozing with butter. A Polish Chałka is probably somewhere between a Challah and a brioche, with added poppy seeds on top, because, well, Poles like to sprinkle poppy seeds on many baked goods.
I cut up some fruits, scramble an egg (Cupcake and Henny are still laying every other day, so we have a row of brown eggs -- Cupcake's, and one of green eggs -- Henny's), and warm up the Challah.
Ready!
And now the sun comes out and the farmette is at her winter prettiest!
(Cheepers wanting so much to come along on an adventure! Sorry, girls. This one's just for us.)
We set out for a walk. Just a fifteen minute loop in our local county park. I can't push it. But, oh is it worth the effort!
(On a timed release...)
Afternoon. The sun is with us still. Ed comments -- I wonder what Snowdrop is up to! He knows the girl loves snow. But she is already getting to an age where we do not track her every movement. As she grows more independent and develops friendships and interests in and around her own home, I recognize this remarkable paradox: we pride ourselves at teaching our kids and grandkids to do more for themselves, but what we are really doing is slowly pushing them out of our lives, so that they can stand alone. And then, of course, we groan about our uselessness! About how quickly, maybe just a bit too quickly the kids have learned to go solo!
The grandparent (or parent for that matter) who groans too loudly, who gets stuck on the brutality of the progression of time, misses an important truth: the emotional connection is a forever thing. Needs shift, but they do not disappear. And kids do not forget their grandparents. They especially do not forget them if the parents keep the grandmas and grandpas solidly rooted in the storybook of family life. Hey, remember when grandma spent ten dollars to get violet sugar here in time for Christmas to bake pink cookies with you and you didn't like them one bit? Remember the trip to the corn farm? To the Luxembourg Gardens? To the cow show? All those quirky traits of the older generation, all those daring deeds, the meals cooked, all those adventures retold, each time with appropriate embellishment ("she had that sugar rushed by special air freight service from Chicago!"), all those endless hugs and radiant smiles that came from delighted grandparents who never failed to recognize how brave and beautiful and clever the little ones are! They are part of a child's life forever.
My own pack of brave and beautiful and clever ones -- at least those living in town -- comes over for a New Year's Day dinner.
(A French green bean, a cob of corn and perhaps a loose shrimp floating around her plate -- that is Snowdrop's idea of the perfect dinner.)
(Sparrow? He just likes a smiling face to match his own smiling face.)
(After dinner story...)
So, 2019, eh? We'll do the best we can with you! Just please don't throw us any mean surprises!
As I open the farmhouse door to the world outside, I see the gentle and exquisitely beautiful side of a Wisconsin winter.
The air is still. Every flake that fell last night is resting in its place: on a branch, on a twinkling holiday light...
The cheepers hear me. Out they march, braving the snow, plodding forward to where I am.
Slowly.
Stop Sign appears as well. Everyone wants their breakfast! They know I will deliver. And still, they all follow me, just in case it should slip my mind.
(Beloved farmhouse, nearly hidden in the snow)
(All fresh, all beautiful.)
Animals, fed, I step into a hot shower (nothing is as luxurious as a hot shower after a cold morning walk), then start in on breakfast. I change things around a bit: Whole Foods had a big sign yesterday stating that they make the best Challah in town! I bought it.
How well I know the Polish Chałka! It's a common bread there, though I'm guessing the Polish version does not follow the Jewish kosher rules that would keep butter out of the recipe (the real Challah is made with oil). The Challah tastes a little like a French brioche, but the latter, of course, is oozing with butter. A Polish Chałka is probably somewhere between a Challah and a brioche, with added poppy seeds on top, because, well, Poles like to sprinkle poppy seeds on many baked goods.
I cut up some fruits, scramble an egg (Cupcake and Henny are still laying every other day, so we have a row of brown eggs -- Cupcake's, and one of green eggs -- Henny's), and warm up the Challah.
Ready!
And now the sun comes out and the farmette is at her winter prettiest!
(Cheepers wanting so much to come along on an adventure! Sorry, girls. This one's just for us.)
We set out for a walk. Just a fifteen minute loop in our local county park. I can't push it. But, oh is it worth the effort!
(On a timed release...)
Afternoon. The sun is with us still. Ed comments -- I wonder what Snowdrop is up to! He knows the girl loves snow. But she is already getting to an age where we do not track her every movement. As she grows more independent and develops friendships and interests in and around her own home, I recognize this remarkable paradox: we pride ourselves at teaching our kids and grandkids to do more for themselves, but what we are really doing is slowly pushing them out of our lives, so that they can stand alone. And then, of course, we groan about our uselessness! About how quickly, maybe just a bit too quickly the kids have learned to go solo!
The grandparent (or parent for that matter) who groans too loudly, who gets stuck on the brutality of the progression of time, misses an important truth: the emotional connection is a forever thing. Needs shift, but they do not disappear. And kids do not forget their grandparents. They especially do not forget them if the parents keep the grandmas and grandpas solidly rooted in the storybook of family life. Hey, remember when grandma spent ten dollars to get violet sugar here in time for Christmas to bake pink cookies with you and you didn't like them one bit? Remember the trip to the corn farm? To the Luxembourg Gardens? To the cow show? All those quirky traits of the older generation, all those daring deeds, the meals cooked, all those adventures retold, each time with appropriate embellishment ("she had that sugar rushed by special air freight service from Chicago!"), all those endless hugs and radiant smiles that came from delighted grandparents who never failed to recognize how brave and beautiful and clever the little ones are! They are part of a child's life forever.
My own pack of brave and beautiful and clever ones -- at least those living in town -- comes over for a New Year's Day dinner.
(A French green bean, a cob of corn and perhaps a loose shrimp floating around her plate -- that is Snowdrop's idea of the perfect dinner.)
(Sparrow? He just likes a smiling face to match his own smiling face.)
(After dinner story...)
So, 2019, eh? We'll do the best we can with you! Just please don't throw us any mean surprises!
I especially love that 4th photo where the chickens/chooks look brave, or maybe perplexed. And the two of you on your snowy walk!
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