Did you know that today is National Cookie Day? So what did you do to celebrate it? Nothing? Nothing?? Silly you.
It's hard for me to bring out even more cookies today, because I have been "bringing them out" since I went to Clasen's two weeks ago to pick up a dozen packs of chocolate covered gingerbread. These have been my everyday go-to lunch since then (oh knock it off! I eat healthy otherwise!). Still, it's a cold, crisp, beautiful December 4th. Name Day for my awesome friend in Poland. (Happy Name Day to you!) And National Cookie Day here, in the U.S.
Maybe I shouldn't ignore it?
Fine. After I take care of the animals...
... I set out to Madison Sourdough Bakery to pick up a few cookies that Ed loves and cinnamon rolls (our favorites these days) for breakfast.
On the drive home, I detour slightly to glance over at the corn fields to our east. Yesterday, we saw seemingly hundreds of cranes gather here in the late afternoon.
(a sample)
They do that just before they take off for the south. And perhaps they did begin their journey because today there was only one. I hope you know what you're doing, buddy!
Breakfast. Ed does ask me if we've gone down the rabbit hole in our breakfast eating. I used to never stray from oatmeal. Maybe granola on a special occasion. Now, it seems that every other day I drive to the bakery for our morning Viennoiseries. [You know the term, right? A Viennoiserie is a bakery item made from puff pastry or a yeasty dough, which gives it a lightly sweet taste. It can be further sweetened by light sugar or raisins or chocolate. It's a breakfast food and though France has recently succeeded in placing the French baguette on the UNESCO List of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, Viennoiseries are really common throughout all of Europe.]
Well, we're in the holiday season. Oatmeal for breakfast can make its way to the list of resolutions for the New Year. Though honestly, when you get older, you tend to want to balance life's enjoyment with obsessive healthy eating. After all, your teeth may fall out and your insides may warp any day now. May as well bite into croissants while the biting is good!
Then I wrap. The way I do it now (slowly) is a luxury. When I was at the Law School, first as a student and then as a faculty member, December was a real killer. Exams. To prepare for, then later, to write and grade. It was by far the craziest time of the year. Too, we didn't have the internet for shopping. Lines, everywhere. My vivid memory of December with the little ones is of packed parking lots and long hikes to stores and malls, with bundled up kids, who then had to get all unbundled inside, and re-bundled to get back to the car. Shopping bags, mittens, scarves, caps. Groceries to get. Holiday meals to think about. Insane. And so now, as I wrap a few boxes each day, I smile at the easiness of the job. Yeah, I dont like wrapping. No one likes wrapping. I wish I could see pretty boxes under the tree without me laying a hand on a single roll of wrapping paper, but it cant be done and so I wrap. Slowly. And easily. Well, but for the creaky bones!
The day is not without drama. Ed is having a relapse in whatever bug it is that has been hounding him since mid November and so spending time under a quilt on the couch feels just fine to him. I'm in the kitchen, working on dinner. It's early. 4:30 maybe. But the sun has set already and the cheepers are beginning to settle into their dozy positions. Except I see one walking up the path from the barn.
Ed, why is one of the hens walking up this way?
Don't know. I'll be putting them away in about 15 minutes.
Ed, why is another one at the barn door?
Don't know.
It's not right...
I leave my prep work and go to the barn. There's an opossum in the coop. He's about to go up to the roost. I speed open the roosting box and grab a sleepy old Peach, then slam the door on the chicken hungry guy. I call Ed over, all the while holding onto Peach. She was one minute away from being someone's dinner. The other cheepers are scattered all over the barn, terrified and tired.
We trap the invader. We have a place we can him to. It's a bit of a drive, but Ed's up for it.
I go back to fixing dinner.
The young family is here tonight. It's the first time that the boys see the tree and I have mild trepidations about Sandpiper, but I guess he is distracted by all the other ways where he can get his sweet little hands into trouble because he (mostly) leaves the tree alone!
(can I have some of what you're chopping?)
(dinner)
(proud use of fork)
(playing an old favorite: hair salon)
Chickens are sleeping, cats are sleeping, Ed is sleeping. Farmhouse quiet. Winter quiet. Everyone is safe. I think I'll have a little cookie.
