Tuesday

Well, our thermometer outside went bonkers in the wee hours of the morning. It cannot handle temps below -12F (-25C) and last I heard it's -15F (-26C) out there.

So why on earth am I up before sunrise??

It's complicated: the boys' preschool was threatening to close because of the harsh conditions outside. If that happened, someone would have to take one child to an appointment while the others were stuck at home. Meaning, I was on standby, ready to show up at my daughter's house at sunrise if necessity called. 

In the end, the preschool did not close and my help was, therefore, not needed. But hey! I'm up, showered, ready to go! So, go I must!

Only where?

It's not often that you get sun, and you get me up early enough to see it raise its warm head over a horizon. When I first moved to the farmhouse, I got all excited about such things and I'd often take the motorbike to Lake Waubesa to watch a sunrise there. A newcommer's enthusiasm for country living. How times have changed...

This is not motorbike weather, indeed it is not any sensible person's outdoor weather, but I'm up and revved up, like a car whose engine has been left running, waiting for someone to hop in and get moving.

To Lake Waubesa then! (It's all of two miles away.)

A few photos from my big trip:

(going there)

(the moment before the sun cracks the horizon is always exciting...)

(satisfied, I turn back, with an occasional glance at the now brilliant disc over snow-covered fields and farmsteads)

(running to get back to the safety of the forest...)

And only after do I go out to deal with our animals. Most are hiding from the cold. Two are unhappily navigating the pathway, one coming, one going.

Once done, I feel like I have a mountain of free time! So early still? Wow! I can do some planning, reading, spot cleaning, writing, baking, decluttering.

Muffins, here I come!

Breakfast, anyone?

The decluttering is really high on my priority list. Once again I read a good article about our relationship to junk (you and I both know that what we have in our homes is mostly junk). This one. And once again I embark on piling up the donations to Goodwill. Honestly, I am determined to get this place to be free of any item I haven't used or looked at in the past two years by summertime. Imagine the airiness of a home with empty shelves!

Please do not ask about skiing today! When the hairs in your nose freeze just by going out to rescue a stuck-in-the-snow chicken, you know it's not skiing weather.

What else did I squeeze in today? A grocery delivery. I ordered a small, inexpensive bunch of tulips. Through someone's error, I got these instead:

Ed thought we should notify someone of the error (the correct buyer of the roses is going to be very disappointed!), but there's no method for it, unless you want a refund, or to convey a complaint, and that's surely not our issue! We are stuck with two dozen beautiful roses! Bummer!

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop and though we do come to the farmhouse (and she pounces on the muffins, always selecting those with the most blueberries)...

... we are back to a ballet routine, so that much of our time is spent on getting her ready for dance. Oh that long hair!

We are on time! What a good way to start the new dancing semester!

I come home after her class. 

(We have visitors...)

Ed locks up the hens, I bake a frittata and I think about the beauty of a clear winter night. So forbidding, but so fantastically empyreal too! The Snow Moon is still five days away, and yet it's all magical outside even now -- the stars, the shadows on the now thick snow cover -- sublime.

And the furnace is working well and the house is warm.

We are so very grateful!

with love...

Monday

The question is this: would you go out and do your standard cross country ski run when the high temperature for the day is slated to be a whopping 7F (-14C)? You would? Fine, you are a better human being than either of us.

In the meantime, it takes me half an hour to motivate myself to go out and take care of the animals. After all, in the morning, we haven't even reached 7F yet.

Still, the sun is coming out, the snow is fresh, sparkling in the way it does when the slant of the sun's rays hits it just so, and the air is sharp and invigorating. You don't want to stand still for long outside! 

We had covered the coop with a quilt and tonight we'll put the little heater right by it and some warm air will trickle in that way, but honestly, this weather is not for the birds! And just to remind you, chickens are birds.

Ed sleeps in. 

When it gets ridiculously late, I finally call him down. Breakfast is ready!

Oatmeal time.

And then guess what -- I do my garden planning work! Less ambitious than the years before, since I will have a new knee to work with so I can't expect the same bounce in my step. Well, at least not in the first weeks of the planting season! Two weeks to recover seems reasonable, don't you think? 

But all that garden planning work completely deflates my ambition to go out and keep moving this year. It's too cold! -- Ed says. I so agree!

We exhale, pleasurably, with some degree of joy. And in that, I join the league of those described in an article I read today titled "Are French People Just Lazy?" Because honestly, if you are old and you do not absolutely have to labor away at stuff, then why are you doing it? Sure, exercise work is good for you, but everyone needs a break and today we take ours. Maybe tomorrow it will be pleasurable to go out again.

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. As usual, on the drive to the farmhouse, she prefers total peace. Gaga, I'm daydreaming. Please don't disturb me. But once we're home, she is explosive!

Her greetings with Ed are protracted and very original.

Eventually, we settle down to read. For a very long time. And when I say enough of that, she wanders over to bug Ed. (Actually, they play some light computer game..)

Only when it's nearly time to go home, do I remember to ask her -- do you have any homework? She does. A lot. She promises to do it the minute she gets home. And you know what? The girl keeps her word.

Dinnertime. I reheat yesterday's stir-fry, Ed toasts some tortillas and warms up some beans and boom! We have ourselves a meal.

with love...

Sunday, snowy Sunday

Well now, wasn't that a surprise! So much snow came down overnight! Nearly a foot of delicate, fluffy new snow. No one predicted it, no one expected it, but there it is!

I was getting ready to go out and feed the animals, when I noticed that one of our Bresse girls, in attempting to hike over to the garage where she likes to lay her eggs (who knows why all the way there), got stuck in a snow drift. Hang on, girl! Here I come!

I carry her to her laying box and then quickly shovel a path back for her, so she'd make her way to the barn when she was done. And what does the dumb chicken do? She strays into a drift all over again. I'm coming! (It's not her fault -- chickens apparently are blinded by the snow. A path may be visible to me, but not to her. Ed says -- you do know that they can fly out of trouble? Maybe, but she looked pretty desolate and immobilized.)

I have to admit it -- I love the added depth to the snow cover. It's a stunning winter landscape! (Even though it's hard to capture in a photo that the snow is deeper and that there's more of it!)

(across the road...)

Breakfast, with leftover morning pastries and spring flowers...

And then I have a Zoom date to keep me busy for the rest of the morning hours. Indeed, I get so wrapped up in my call that I nearly forget a very important event -- Snowdrop's very first violin recital!

(her teacher helps her get ready...)

(and away she goes!)

One of her brothers has the sniffles, so he stays home with dad, but the other comes along...

Which is a good thing because the little guy has probably never heard a violin play (Snowdrop's practice time is rather ... celestial). 

Snowdrop's performance goes off without a glitch. She is tentative, but with a good mastery of technique! 

In the afternoon I order strawberry plants on line. You know where this is heading: gardening extravaganza! Then, Ed blows the daylights out of our driveway and we head out to ski.

Oh yeah... That's a sunset alright. Let's just say we were late to get going.

Winter sunsets are stunning!

And dinner? How's dinner tonight? Well, a bit sad without the kids (Sandpiper's sniffles are keeping everyone home), but we are grateful that we can stay healthy. Here's hoping that this too shall pass quickly, without spreading to the rest of the clan.

I stir fry seafood for an army and tell Ed we are going to be eating lots of shrimp in the days to come.

with love...

Saturday

And again it snows. 

You'd think we would have quite the buildup here. Drifts blocking entryways. Flower tubs lost under heaps of snow. But no. It hasn't been like that. Every day we get another inch, maybe two. Three (today) max. Clean, pretty, but nothing formidable. I suppose you could say that it pleases both sides: those who want snow can't complain. Those who'd rather see clear roads can't fuss. 

Morning walk. Chickens are hiding in far corners of the barn. It's not the snow this time, it's the cold. We're climbing to 18F (-8C) today. They would prefer a milder temp, thank you. And please, without the whipping wind.

It has been a busy winter season and it will continue to be full and lively going forward. But today, my calendar has only one entry on it -- a Zoom chat with a friend who lives far away -- and that's it! Clean slate for the afternoon, clean slate for the evening. 

Well, let's make this day a good one! How about a trip to my usual bakery (Madison Sourdough) for breakfast treats? And here's a stunning development: the head baker there was also nominated for a James Beard award, in the category of "Best Baker!" Well now, don't I have a nose for morning pastries!

Hey Ed, breakfast time! Hurry up! Fresh pastries are getting less fresh by the second!

A day of luxury. And the snow keeps falling, gently. Maybe we'll get as much as four inches. If ever there was a time to do a forest ski run, this is it! Cold (we both were wooly caps) but so very beautiful.

In the late afternoon I am lost to the world with work on some distant trip. I had wanted to do garden planning, but didn't quite get to it. Ideas for the flower fields hatched in January are fantastic: they're totally excessive, unreasonable and farfetched, but at the same time, that crazy ambition always pushes the garden forward a little. I curse my plans and plant purchases from this month while I'm digging come spring time, but in fact, the results are always deeply satisfying. Maybe tomorrow!

I tear myself away from my research to feed the seventh feral cat (called Pancake, I can't remember why) that's been coming around fairly regularly. She's terrified of all humans, but she must be hungry because she is forcing herself to come to the porch with great hopes that we will have left something there for her. If she hears me move, she runs like a speed demon to the other side of town. But she comes back when I retreat. It's a tricky business, because she wont come near the house if some of the other cats are around. But, it's a game we're used to playing: put out food when other cats aren't watching, and when chickens aren't close by and hope that the hungry visitor will get some protein in before anyone else shows up.

In the evening, I bake some fish for the two of us. It feels like I haven't really prepared a solid dinner for a number of days (soup doesn't count). Time to roll up the sleeves and take out the baking pans. 

And so goes an easy day, with nothing planned. Where did the time fly? Incredible, isn't it...

thankful

It's the end of an incredible week. From Naples to the farmette. From childhood friends to newer friends, and the newest of all -- good people whom I meet as a result of Like a Swallow or Ocean. Those of you who "met me" for the first time yesterday and then wrote to tell me about it -- you are both wonderful and kind and I am so glad to have you on board, with your positive attitude about life and a generous warmth toward people that cross your path. Wow, so much goodness in this world!

These were my thoughts as I wake up to yet another light snow day here in south-central Wisconsin. I know some of you may be wishing it would stop. I am not one of them. I love snow, especially fresh snow, especially when it falls in seasonally appropriate months and not, say, in April. 

I walk to the barn to feed the animals (for the new readers -- we have six semi-feral cats that share space with us here at the farmette. Three of them come regularly into the farmhouse, the remaining three like to hang out in the sheep shed, which, by the way, is no rickety shed -- it has floor heating and lots of comfy spaces for them. All six cats panic when we have visitors. My grandkids have been coming here almost daily for eight years now and the cats still take flight when they see them coming. Apart from caring for cats, we raise free range chickens. Right now we have six hens but that number does fluctuate. Predators have been known to outsmart us. But, knock on wood, we've had a streak of good luck this winter and so far, our beautiful Bresse girls (white hens with blue legs and red combs) and our motly crew of others are as happy as I imagine chickens can get. Well, they do hate snow so perhaps today they are not as thrilled with life as they are on days when they can dig up my plants and eat bugs and roots and tiny new growth. 

It is my morning job to feed all these characters and it is a job I love. Even in foul weather. It gives a good start to my day. You know how you're supposed to have a meditative moment before you plunge into your activities? This is my meditative moment.

(The barn does have a few boards missing...)

(the venerable farmhouse...)

And now I have to prepare breakfast, which takes a shockingly long while, considering it usually consists of just fruit and oatmeal. In cutting up fruits for me, for Ed and for whatever grandkid comes to the farmhouse later in the day, I again find that peaceful stretch of minutes that makes for a fine beginning to any day.

(cats, waiting...)

(Breakfast)

This morning I also bake a rhubarb yogurt cake. Ed keeps nudging me to use up all our freezer produce and we have a lot of stored rhubarb. I'm on it! 

Is there time for skiing? Just barely.

And now I pick up Snowdrop, eight years old, here daily after school:

Toward evening, the routines change a bit. First of all, her two brothers drop by after school. For a cookie. And rhubarb cake. Sparrow (4) and Sandpiper (1). Sweet, sweet boys!

And then -- and this is a really unusual thing for us -- Ed and I go out to dinner with friends. It's such a rare thing for the two of us to share friends. Since he and I began our life together when we were already past 50, we came into it with pre-formed friendships and we typically stay in our own circle of pals. But there are exceptions where I will be included in his gang from years past and this particular evening is just such a time. And moreover, these people picked as our dinner place Osteria Papavero, a small Italian restaurant that quite coincidentally just got nominated for a James Beard award. 

Chef Francesco Mangano is from Bologna, which really is a far culinary step from Naples, but both these cities have a deep affection for pasta and braised meats, so there is indeed reason for me to feel a tiny bit nostalgic as I step into this little gem of a place. 

Look familiar? All that's missing is the zucchini blossom...

It's restaurant week in Madison, which means that we have a solid three course meal before us. Panna cotta for dessert!

Such a terrific cap to a beautifully busy week! 

We drive home in falling temperatures. There will be solid snow tomorrow. We're ready for it!

with love...

booked up

I felt this morning like I did on the days I still taught: so much to do, so little time to do it in. Like a working person, with a lecture to prepare and house chores to finish up. And snow to clear -- to the barn, to the car. And a partner who is going to want to ski, and a granddaughter who most assuredly will want to play.

Help me out here, I'm drowning!

But, on the other hand, it sure is a pretty day. With a gentle snow and temps still just below freezing, you could say it is a near perfect winter weather.

A bit later, as I wait for Ed to finish up some of his machine design talk on Zoom, I glance over at an article in the paper- - one that appeared last week actually, except I was too busy then to read it. I'll link you to it, but I think the title says it all: Three Steps to Age Exuberantly. The thing is, I know how to age exuberantly! It's so obvious: stop with the whining and get on with your projects. Search for happiness in your reality, even as it may have elements of sadness. Talk to younger people, preferably not about your sore knee. Learn from them. Cook for your grandkids. Yes, yes, it's all there, written down for you by an 86 year old Swedish woman who had previously written a book about how you should declutter your home before you die so that your kids wont have to deal with your mess when you're gone. Amen! Wisdoms galore! 

And yet, here I am, feeling like the day is running away from me and I am not feeling all too exuberant about it. 

Eventually, Ed joins me for breakfast and the tide turns. He asks if he can help with farmette chores and my impatience with the day fades. We've got this! We're in control!

Very soon after, we go skiing in our county park. I wait at the bottom of the hill for him to catch up and he barrels into me and then topples into a snow drift. I had to laugh. It was, after all, sort of my fault (I didn't get out of the way quickly enough). And of course since we are ancient people, he couldn't easily get up. It took a few mins to figure it all out. And that was funny too.

And the snow keeps falling and the forest looks like it's happy to receive this blanket of white stuff.

Beautiful snow...

The world seems like such a pretty and welcoming place. Cold, but isn't that what gives color to our cheeks? Isn't it just so bracing? We ski harder and my activity rings on my watch close and I am so delighted with the way things are going!

In the afternoon  I have Snowdrop and again I groan at the absence of time. I should take her skiing. Skating. Snow fort building. But there isn't time for that. She wants food and she wants to read. We do both.

(She also wants to clobber Ed. I leave them to it: they have their own game going which I do not fully understand but it makes them both laugh and that's a good thing.)

 

And now I zip her home, and I zip myself over to the Oregon Public Library for the scheduled Like a Swallow presentation and reading. I am absolutely certain that no one will come on a cold and snowy day. In the evening no less. Wouldn't you rather stay home and eat veggie soup rather than brave the elements to listen to someone ramble about her childhood in Poland?

But people are a curious species and I do have quite a nice group of readers in the room and more watching online, and it is, in fact, a beautiful evening! Well, at least I thought so!

I go home deeply satisfied and happy. And I eat soup late, very late, with Ed, and at the end of the day I can't help but feel... exuberant! Great word, don't you think?

With so much love...