Ah, but that it would be so. Peace, like the kind I have today, here, in my home with Henry. With my family nearby. With Ed nearby. With friends just a Zoom call away. Peace at breakfast, with soft music playing. Peace on the balcony as birds fly in for their meal. Many of them. Finches, chickadees, a solitary dove. I've only ever seen mourning doves out in pairs. Why is she on her own? She stays on the balcony the longest. She watches others come and go.
Henry is at my bedside at 5:55. I put him off, but of course, but it's Christmas morning and you know how young ones are about waking on this day. Alright, Henry. Out we go.
The star shines brightly over our world in the early morning. My regal pup properly takes in the beauty of it all.
Inside now, we pass the lobby tree.
And then we come into our apartment. Surprise! Santa made an appearance for you, Henry Bean. Because you've been such a good dog!
On my breakfast counter, the amaryllis has flowered! Overnight. Like some kind of Christmas prophecy, if you're one who things in those terms. My own thinking is that it was good planting timing, but mostly it was just plain luck. So much in life is just plain luck.
I cut a slice of stollen. I'm glad I have it because lacking a childhood of holiday traditions, I like to borrow those of others, and I think in Dresden Germany pretty much everyone has a stollen on their table this morning, in the same way that there was herring on most tables in Poland last night. Maybe next year I'll search out a good herring to bring for our Eve dinner, though it wont be as delicious as that which you can buy from some known fish vendors in Warsaw.
I return to my yule log project. And I just have to laugh. I tried to time this well, so I forced myself to bake the cake yesterday. It needs to cool thoroughly. I should have filled it last night, but I was just too tired after our celebrations (and my writing about our celebrations). This morning I unrolled the roll and noticed the cracks. I waited too long. By the time I prepared the filling (cream with orange peel), the sponge cake was there in pieces before me. I may be able to save it with frosting. Maybe. I could bake another this morning, but I am not that ambitious. Let's hope for that Christmas miracle to repeat itself. Or, let's just hope for luck.
In the late morning, I take Henry for his exercise in a dog park. At the last minute I decided to drive out to Indian Lake County Park. For variety. Like Prairie Morraine, it is about a 16 minute drive, though in the opposite direction. Unlike Prairie Morraine, this one is unfenced. It is up to you to keep your dog (reasonably) near you.
Nothing about this "adventure" was great. Well, with the exception of watching Henry run across the fields -- I always love that. It makes me feel like I have given him his freedom to fly on his own. even as he has the safety of me to come back to. (I imagine Henry had plenty of freedom on the streets of Dallas, Texas, only there was always the fear of not finding shelter or food or safety from those who could harm him.)
What went wrong today? I think the better question is -- what was enjoyable?
His romp.
I cant think of anything else. The temps are hovering just above freezing, but it is unpleasantly chilly. No sun. A breeze that bites. We've had several days of up and down weather, so right now the snow is nothing to write home about. If you're dreaming of a white Christmas, let me assure you, a green one is better than this half and half: half mud and half ice. Henry got plenty dirty. I had my shoes with cleats, so the ice was manageable. The mud was just unpleasant.
There was hardly anyone else there, which is a shame since Henry gets a better workout if he runs with other dogs. When a large family did show up with two dachshunds, He chose this day to bark his head off at all the humans. No sweet words worked on him. He was like Marley in the book (or movie) Marley and Me. Completely without impulse control. My non aggressive sweet tempered pup sounded like a Hound of Baskerville.
After one and a half hiking loops (which are strange there, as some of the trail requires you to leash your dog. Nothing changes in the terrain. It's all open field. And yet. No one does it, but still, it's a bizarre walk) -- or some form of looping, I decide he's had enough and I head back toward the car. Because there is no fence, there is no signal for the dog to come to you for the last leg to the parking lot (and highway!). Henry, being in his own bubble, decided to explore the field that abuts the highway instead of coming right away on the recall. I understand this: typically I tell him it's time to go, but I give permission for one last big run. How was he to know that running toward the road was about the worst thing he could do?
Luckily, I put some oomph into my call and indicated that treats were involved, so he changed his course and came flying to me. In early training, you should never "punish" your dog by restricting his freedom or making him do something he does not want to do after he comes galloping to you on command. The last thing I cared about then was proper training. I snapped on the leash and we walked peacefully to the car.
Of course, looking back on that walk, I can reflect on the fact that Henry did nothing wrong or unpredictable. A group of strange people coming at him always sets him off. Except for the final recall, he tracked and followed me properly throughout. The mud? Not his fault obviously.
With kids, I always had the belief that if they are to misbehave, it's better that they do it when they are still with you so you could guide them to better decisions. I suppose when Henry barks, it's an opportunity for me to teach him better manners. Far worse is the situation where he never sees strangers and therefore I maintain peace, with him, with my environment. Indeed, if I were seriously attacking the issue of barking, I'd get a string of people to come to my apartment, one after the next, so that he would learn that we can be safe even in the presence of others. Still, it's Christmas Day and if there is to be a day when you seek out peace, it's now. It's written into the songbook! Our walk was only modestly peaceful. Hey, at least he did not venture out onto the lake itself, which has thin ice and is terribly unsafe even for a nimble guy like Henry.
At home, the birds flood the balcony...
I return to my yule log. The one with the cracks in the bark, such that the filling is oozing out in the most unattractive manner. You know, I have made this yule log for Christmas since I clipped the first recipe out of Gourmet Magazine in 1988. I was a mere child of 35 years then! (I now use a second one out of the 2004 Bon Appetit magazine), and I have never done this stupid wrap in a damp cloth overnight before. All my yule logs have been just fine. All 37 of them. This one? Uff!
Let's see if the ganache frosting can fix things.
(all that's missing is the powdered sugar sprinkled lightly over it)
Alright! If I never mention the cracks, they wont know. So the smaller limb can't be positioned to stand upright, so what! And in any case, their heads will be elsewhere. Christmas is about many things. Yule logs are a wee tiny fraction of one meal, that's all.
(my daughter's cheese trays are legendary)
And speaking of the meal -- this will be the first Christmas dinner not cooked by me. My son-in-law has taken on the entire project. He created the menu (mushroom soup in honor of my Polishness, followed by a British inspired menu of a salmon platter, and a rack of herb-crusted lamb with duck fat roasted potatoes) and he'll do the cooking. Amazing for me. I can sit back and be a grandma, the type that nods her head and pretends she hears what the kids are saying!
He pulls it off beautifully!
(a thank you hug)
The evening is splendid! The parents are probably exhausted (so much work!) but I have to think in a good way. We all had a fabulous Christmas.
(the two big ones are explaining the purpose of Slime to Ed; he's not buying it)
The kids are happy. I'm happy. Henry's happy.
Right Henry?
I hope your day was spent with loved ones, or thinking about loved ones, or making plans with loved ones. I hope you found a pocket of joy somewhere in there. And that you felt the peace that we all crave.
with so much love...
