Sunday

This is it -- the final bit of holiday. And, too, the final set of hours when both young families can come together around a large table and share a meal with us.

As if to emphasize the utter splendidness of this year's long holiday week-end, we wake up to a full monty, in terms of sunshine. You would not be able to paint a more brilliant sun, giving that deep blue to the sky that we love so much on winter days here!

Ed and I are up earlier than the younger set, because of the cheepers...






...and because I have things to do in the kitchen. But before I pull out the knives and whisks, Ed and I sat down to a light breakfast together, just the two of us, to tide us over.  And yes, today we can eat in the sun room! (Most of the heat in this room comes from the sun and throughout the two week period of cloudy skies, we'd had it closed off.)






(The cheepers bask in the sun too...)






Then come the brunch preparations. I like to do a full mise en place (meaning I like to get all ingredients in their final stages of preparation before I start to cook).






I am also a ridiculously orderly cook. I don't like leaving messes around me. Clean up as I go along.

The brunch menu isn't at all elaborate and everything comes from a cookbook that my girl requested for Christmas (Huckleberry): A cauliflower-mushroom-gruyere frittata (thank you, cheepers for the eggs!)






...and Honey Crisp apple flapjacks.
















The farmhouse is at its sunny best and the kitchen table is just the place to linger for a long long time.






Of course, eventually, the Minneapolis couple has to take to the road, but it is a happy send off because we all know that within at most two weeks, they'll be back.

(They are a committed soon-to-be aunt and uncle!)






(To the joy of the expectant couple.)






In the afternoon, I help my older girl and her husband take down their tree. Typically, they keep it up 'til the New Year, but not this year! They want order in their house and we are able to do the full clean up in the light of this brilliant Sunday afternoon.

(Though their cats could not understand why we were removing their very favorite place of rest.)






(Last photo by the tree before it comes down!)






Job done. I drive back to the farmette just as the sun is setting.






Oh, I hope your week was equally full of the pleasures that matter most to you! And if you haven't had enough sunshine this month, may the next few days dawn as brilliantly for you as they did for me today.

(At sunset: )

rest

It is a day of rest. We are all indulging in it -- catching up in the physical, the visual, the peaceful.

Ed and I had an early breakfast, before the young people were awake and about...






(The cheepers, too, were early risers...)






And then the kids came down and it was so clear that what they needed more than anything else was rest. and so I reached into my miniscule DVD collection and we watched three yes, three food movies in a row. It was so decadent, so rich, so... funny!


(So not for the camera... Oh wait, the cheese and crackers and sausage! I'll post a shot of that.)






In the evening we gathered for one last time at my older girl's place. Supper? Oh, eventually, after hours of reminiscing about who did what and when and for what reason, we ordered Laotian food, delivered.





Peaceful days make for quiet blog posts.   And that is exactly what I want to leave you with tonight: the quiet.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

luxury

As if this set of days hadn't provided enough warmth and generous spirit already, today threw in the cherry on top -- something so luxurious and decadent that I don't know if I can properly describe all the fine detail and trimmings. You'll just have to believe me: it was over the top grand. Let me lead up to it:

First, it didn't take long to understand that it would be a fine day. Just waking up to a sky clear enough to display sunlight was a treat. I actually volunteered to let the chickens out. It was wonderful to look out east just after 7...











But you wont get a breakfast photo of Ed today. My girls wanted a breakfast out in a diner and several of the men dropped out of the outing. Not everyone thinks the half hour drive across town is worth the rather standard fare, but we do. So our own small group gathered at Hubbard Avenue Diner and this was already deliciously fun...






And now here comes the good part.






No no, not that -- I mean yes, the photos are always wonderful, but there's more: we went to my older girl's home to hang out.

That's it.

The cats were curious, coming in occasionally to check on us...


 
(all whiskers and ribbons)



...but otherwise, it was just us -- with no agenda. No task, no plan, no burning questions. We looked at the array of cookbooks Santa had variously delivered, and babybooks, and no books at all, and we commented on every inconsequential point and topic and honestly, I cannot remember when we last had this luxury of time together -- nothing more nothing less, just time.










It was heaven.

To be tucked away and remembered for the ages.

Christmas Day in pictures

Finally, the great Midwestern sky...






Casting blue streaks over the farmette...






I'm on my way to my daughter's place for the family Christmas gathering. Both girls are here with their husbands. Their father is here as well. Predictably, everyone wants to see the nursery...

Right now, this one is the family littlest one, but not for long...






Presents! Let's get to them! Islay scarves anyone?






Ocean author with the littlest one...






Food prep time. Check the recipe!






Quick! We need garlic!






Seven of us at the table...






Could not ask for more perfect daughters...





...ever.

And to all a good night.

Christmas Day

This morning, if I were to pick a song that would be most fitting to the occasion, I would, perhaps pick this one -- A Christmas Wish, sung by Kermit the Frog:

Remarkable that I should be here, scribbling away (yes, scribbling! typing quickly is a form of scribbling!) even as the breakfast dishes are still dripping water after their quick wash. And here's a small bonus (or burden, depending on how you look at it) -- this isn't my main post. I should be good for the usual evening one that summarizes what happened in this rather quiet corner of the planet. But I did think that it would be rather unfriendly of me to write then "Merry Christmas" (for those who observe the holiday) when most people are actually long done with the celebration and are in fact looking to move on. I know some people -- me, for example -- who stop listening to holiday music the minute the last wisp of desert is licked off the Christmas dinner plate. So what good is it to turn to blogs and learn that someone at that point sends you their best wishes for a Merry Christmas?

I only have a minute though. The northerners are nearly here and, too, I made a deal with Ed -- he'll let me trim his beard if I first do yoga and so I must do some modicum of poses to satisfy my part of the bargain.

The morning has been a wonderful blur of beauty. Perhaps you don't see it. Nothing stands out. There was a morning visit with the cheepers...






(the girls all left gifts for us today and yes, Scotch consistently lays the largest egg...)






And there was breakfast. Oh! But let me pause a little here, because breakfast was in fact different. Not elaborately so, but I did take out my creamy white place mats and I pretended we had good table manners and put out napkins as well (the sleeve wont do for Christmas!). And our store had this week a wonderful, wonderful brioche which is so very perfect for French toast that I made some and we both had it for breakfast -- accompanied by the yummy honey rhubarb that I cooked up this past spring when our rhubarb was exploding.





















So we're off to a good start.

But the real beauty to the morning came a few minutes later when there was a real break in the clouds and I jumped up with my camera to catch it before it slipped away and I would have no proof of its appearance. Here it is:






Yes, a wisp of sunshine!

That's enough! I need no other present from this day.

Well fine, I'll take that family gathering at my daughter's house. Oh, but let me not jump ahead. I really did just want to wish you a delightfully merry Christmas! I hope it rocks to the rhythm of your soul!

Christmas Eve

Up early. Years ago, this was my busiest day of the year. That's no longer the case, but still, I get up early.






Our chickens are unpredictable. Sometimes they dilly when I open their coop. Today, they're hovering near the door, anxious to be out.





Maybe they sense that this truly is a rare event? It's above freezing for the third or fourth day in a row. They can scratch the farmette soil to their hearts content. And they do.

At the farmhouse, I do a thorough house cleaning. Windows wide open, dust cloth flying, vacuum hitting the darkest corners. The place shines, ready for a round of visitors (arriving tomorrow).

From the predawn hours, Isie boy has had visions of his own sugar plums: he is incessant, meowing loud and clear that he wants that same special can of cat food I'd opened yesterday, that very same one, his very favorite, perhaps his all time favorite! Kind of odd that it should be this, on Christmas Eve. (The can is of venison. I mean, really, Isie? Today?)

Ed and I have a much more prosaic breakfast. The usual, in fact.






We then play Santa. Well, Ed helps me, but I can't say that he'd like to associate himself with anything so spendy as gift giving. Still, he does help. We lug gifts to my daughter's house where they will be opened tomorrow. For now, they sit and wait. While their cats romp and explore as if they, too are touched in their soul by this holiday.






(Ed plays with Virgil, my daughter remains preoccupied with her own wrapping.)











More errands and quick trips to the store. And then Ed gives blood. They hooked him on the phone to come down, but it doesn't take much hooking because he is always giving blood. Me, I stopped when I turned anemic. I do not think I remain anemic but I haven't turned the corner from thinking that I am. So he's on his own.

At the farmhouse, we keep the sun room closed off because without sun, it only throws cold air back into the house. (You do know that we have not had sun light for a while?) Every time I open the door, the bells that I hung there, seasonally, just for the heck of it, ring very very loudly. I think it drives Ed nuts, but he doesn't complain. Even though I think he's looking forward to the quiet that will come on December 26th.





When the girls were little, I used to ring a big bell I had downstairs and do a little routine, pretending that I had heard Santa's sleigh. I don't think they ever believed it. Still, when I jingle any bell right about now, I feel very much as if I am right in the thick of my daughters' Christmas, circa 1990, when one would have been 9 and the other -- just approaching 6. At those ages, kids just bubble with the joyousness of the holiday. Their favorite two phrases on Christmas morning? I don't need any more presents because this one is the best gift ever! And before that: mom, hurry up with the photo, we want to come in! (I insisted on an annual photo of them approaching the tree in their p.j.s on Christmas morning.)

Since the lights on my Norfolk pine are of the low energy kind, I can keep them up round the clock. So different from the days when I insisted on restraint: too many hours of tree lights meant the tree would dry very very quickly. These days, there need be no restraint.






And now, the Eve itself. As in previous years, it is a calm evening for us. And food? Ed, who rarely has preferences in matters of custom and tradition, suggests that we do what his people are said to do on this day (and by "his people," I mean the New York Jewish community from which he emerged): go out for a Chinese dinner. We eat the combo special at Imperial Gardens East (where surely unlike in New York on this day, there are a number of people wearing Christmas sweaters). And the food is just okay.





But the evening is grand nonetheless.

My girls and I always used to say that the day before Christmas is the best ever because of all that still will follow. I'll sign onto that.

When I was very young, maybe around 8 years old, I looked for "Christmas spirit" in whatever place I could find it then. Comic books were a good source. In one, a young Dennis the Menace is looking for a tree to bring home. He comes across some scrawny looking ones sold by a pair of cowboys. I do not know why I will always remember this last image from that comic, but I do and it is as evocative to me as a choir singing the most beautiful carol. Dennis bargains for a tree and the cowboy lets him have it. In this untidy lot, the air is full of the impending holiday and the cowboy turns to his pals and reminds them -- it's Christmas Eve on the range boys, it's Christmas Eve on the range...