Do you remember the movie Christmas in Connecticut? The 1945 film with Barbara Stanwyck? [For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, the story is about a woman -- Elizabeth Lane -- who is a well known food writer for a major magazine. She writes about her life as a mom living on a farm and she churns out stories about her sweet and cozy existence. Included, of course, are recipes of her homemade... whatever. Trouble is, she is, in reality, a single woman living in New York and the entire story line is pure fiction. Even the recipes aren't her own. She snitches them from her friend and restauranteur, Felix. It's a fast paced comedy of errors flick. Very "of the era," so if you're going to be bothered by some of the archaic ideas (and you should be!) that belong to that postwar period, then you'll probably find plenty to complain about. Me -- I actually do enjoy the plot, even on the rewatch, preferring to focus on the fact that the character breaks stereotypes and forges ahead with her success, even if it is, well, ill-begotten!] Sometimes on these quieter winter days, I think I am not unlike Elizabeth, churning out blog posts about farmette life and cozy breakfasts and well fed chickens, with pictures of blueberry muffins and references to chili that'll last all week, and notes on films watched under a warm quilt on the couch, with a background of twinkling lights on the Christmas tree.
The difference, of course, is that our reality here, on the farmette, tracks that story line. I'm retired, a dedicated cook, and I love to write. And there's chili that'll last a week. Every detail sounds like something Elizabeth would write, except, of course, ours is that kind of a life.
In truth, we are not unusual in our daily habits. We are very quirky in other ways, which you would surely pick up from reading Ocean. But in our day-to-day movements -- we're conventional Wisconsinite-Madisonians (even though we don't live in the city itself). And yes, this kind of daily stuff -- feeding animals in the morning, caring for grandkids in the afternoon, going on hikes along forested paths, cooking up dinner for everyone on Sundays and holidays -- is really very satisfying. No wonder Elizabeth Lane was hell bent on feeding that image to her dedicated readers. [I do promise you -- I do not secretly live in New York City and unlike Elizabeth, I do know how to boil and egg and change a diaper.] Loving warmth and fragrant aromas coming out of the kitchen -- that's universal, isn't it? Still, as I'm about to sit down and type up a blog post about the cold crisp air as I go out to feed the animals...
... about our breakfast, with the Rustic Pine candle adding a glow to the kitchen table, and a steaming bowl of oatmeal with dribbled honey waiting for me...
... I'm so reminded of that movie once again! And feeling very grateful that our hygge warmth and farmhouse coziness is a reality, rather than just an image of what I think you would want to hear.
(from the kitchen window..)
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Just before picking up the kids, I drive to the next town over, which happens to be the home of our post office. (We are not part of the Madison mail circuit.) A package is being held there for us and I am curious about it. And well I might be: it's from Germany, from an Ocean reader who must know how much I love central European bakery treats at this time of the year. The box is filled with packs of cookies straight from a bakery in Aachen. Yes, chocolate covered gingerbread with hazelnuts, wafers with a dusting of cinnamon, vanilla half moons. (I have never been to Aachen, so I had to look it up on a map: the city is right at the western border, where Germany and the Netherlands and Belgium collide.)
This always touches me -- when a reader does something unexpected and kind. Postcards from Australia. Christmas calendars from California. Or, simply an email from Michigan. People I've never met, yet I know them in this special way -- they react to what I write. We keep in touch. And Ocean becomes something bigger and better than just my words and photos on a computer screen. Because now I get to know a little of their lives too. (Sometimes I know more than just a little and a friendship grows out of the exchange and that is just wondrous!)
Thank you to all of you who read, and extra special thank you to those of you who take the time to write me a note. Or send me German cookies for Christmas!
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Here's my afternoon duo!
Our thermometer topped at 23F (-5C) today so there's still some snow on the ground and both kids had recess fun rolling around in it with their friends. By the time of the car ride, they were sapped to the core.
Sparrow, as a kindergartener, rarely has homework assignments, but Snowdrop has quite the stream of things she has to do after school's out. I've never loved the fact that teachers give kids lots of homework and I don't love it now. The girl does need a couple of hours to regain her strength, to nourish herself, to unwind, to process her day on her own terms. This is great and she has ample opportunities to do just that at the farmhouse. But this means that I hand her over to her parents just in time for their dinner hour and after that she needs to drag out her homework assignments. She's not alone in this, of course. Many kids go to after school programs and don't return home until 6, facing the same issue of work at the end of a long day. And there isn't much time! School starts at 7:40 in the morning, so weekday bedtime is necessarily on the early side. This is why I wish schools would realize that homework just does not fit neatly into our lives right now where two parents work full time jobs (or worse, the child lives with only one working parent). Ah well. Eventually they'll be older, and their bedtime will be extended, and they'll do their assignments under the light of the moon and all will be right with the world again.
In the meantime, I feed them, read with them (well, mostly with Snowdrop -- Sparrow is happy with the occasional book, but also loves his time at the art table, or building towns for character play) and get them into some form of a zen state so that they go home happy and relaxed.
And yes, in the evening, Ed and I slurp chili and watch a show and it is indeed a beautiful evening here, at the farmhouse in Connecticut Wisconsin.
