One of my favorite winter moments unfolds during a morning walk, after an especially cold night. This is when you'll find crystals of ice lingering on shaded grasses and spent flowers.
To me, it's winter's gentle touch. A frosted over landscape. Lovely, but in a subtle way.
The paths are freezing up at night so there is a crunch to the step as I walk to the barn and round back, to the pines and spruces that are at their finest even in winter.
Breakfast is cozy. How else to describe a warm kitchen and a steamy cup of milky coffee? Oatmeal with local honey? A streak of sunlight from the mudroom? The quiet of the world outside that seems destined to sleep away the coldest months of the year?
Later in the day, I have a Zoom call with my Polish friends. Each time we meet up in this way, there are worse stories of growing infections and political upheavals, both in the US and in Poland. We spend a lot of time on filling in some of the details. On recounting "what it's like" to be "here," rather than "there." But in the end, it's the family stories that lighten the moment for us. There is a lot to celebrate. To be grateful for. Even at a distance.
In the afternoon, Ed fits in a "Wednesday Night Bike Ride." Of course, it's not Wednesday and he has to set out early to make it back before dark, but still, at 52F (11C), it's warm enough for him to pedal away. And I use this opportunity to set out for a solo walk through the new development. Because it's just so convenient to have that sidewalk nearby!
An evening of chicken brats and a salad with the first of our winter spinach. Well, not really ours, in that we did not grow it. It comes from farmers that have been supplying us with cold harvest hoop spinach for many years now. Every two weeks, two big bags of deep green leaves, sweetened by the frost. From mid November through mid April. I cannot imagine a Wisconsin winter without this heavenly treat.
We finished yet another a gruesome crime series and are starting in on a new one. Ed is winning the bet: we have not had to to subscribe to Netflix since the whole COVID menace came into our lives. Plenty of good, free viewing to be had out there. With a candle and pop corn and perhaps a glass of wine. And did I mention the chocolate square? With a glass of white wine, from the Bergerac region (inexpensive, lovely)?
Feeling grateful indeed. Worried about our health care workers, to be sure, really worried. But grateful for my family's good health and the peace that has settled over the farmette lands.
