in between

We are in that post Christmas, pre-New Year period. Vestiges of one, not quite ready to move to the next. This is the time when you most want to send the kids out to run wild in the back yard, but of course this year, you can't send them out because it's too damn cold.

And it will just turn colder tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.

This does not concern Ed. He does nearly everything from his home base here, at the farmette. He doesn't ever have to stay out long -- hence his love of shorts, which keep him plenty warm inside the farmhouse, especially when he throws a quilt over his bare legs. When asked if going out to the barn in the evening chills him, he'll shrug and say -- women had bare legs for very many decades, all year long.
I'll retort -- they wore nylon stockings, which do offer some protection. Besides, they had no choice. You could be wearing fuzzy sweat pants right now. They could not.
Hairy legs are as good as nylons.

Okay, Ed.

Breakfast. Yes, in shorts. No socks either. Ed is always barefooted. Does not own slippers.





In the afternoon, I'm to go to Snowdrop's home to help with the dismantling of the tree.

It's snowing as I set out. It seems to be snowing constantly now, but when I look down on the walkway, I notice that we get minimal accumulation. Freezing cold, prickly precipitation, and little snow cover to show for it. Great.

Well yes, actually it sort of is that... Beauty in the cold, snow dusted landscape.







Snowdrop is well rested (you sleep well after pulling babies in sleds in the dead of winter) and in her best sweet mood. She shows off her nascent programing skills (yes, there are games out there that get you thinking about sequential commands)...





... then throws herself into the project of taking down the million ornaments from the young family's tree. She is good: she moves fast, separates the glass from the wood and has us finish the job in half the time we usually take for this sort of only mildly pleasant task.






(Is this wood or clay? Or fabric? It's not glass!)





At the farmhouse, the Christmas tree lingers. Don't really know why. Usually I'm eager to take it down, but this year, it lingers.

child's play

While storms covered states to the east of us and states to the west of us with a mess snow, as you can see, we've had hardly any of it. Yes, there's the bitter cold. But infinitesimal amounts of snow. It's a world that's tough for children to enjoy right now. A  dangerous cold, without the playful elements of winter.

But today, the weather gods relented, just a wee little bit: We climbed all the way to 8F (-13C) -- this is just a momentary reprieve: we're coming into an even colder period, with -40F wind chills (which actually also is -40 in Celsius). But today, it's a toasty world out there at 8F. And, we got an inch or two of snow.

The consequences of this are immediately evident. After breakfast...







... we look in on the cheepers. The two older girls had wandered into the garage and cannot imagine repeating the journey back to the barn. Ed has to coax them, cajole them, encourage them...






(And yes, he is wearing shorts. Just don't even ask.)

And after noon, Snowdrop comes over, bursting with joy that finally, finally, there is reason to put on her new pink snow pants.





We can't stay outside for long.  Even with a warm scarf covering some of her face, her cheeks quickly turn as pinky pink as her pants! But still, it is a joyous time for her, for all of us!

Her immediate concern is our walkway: a shoveling job is in order.






Anywhere else?






Let's take your baby sled out! I think you'll still fit in it.  (I had resisted buying a bigger one because, well, there was no snow...)






Oh, she loves it alright! Ed comes out to see what the excitement is all about. (And no, I can't understand how he can go out with bare legs.)






Snowdrop is not ready to go in. She wants to give her baby a ride in the sled.






Hard work, being a mother to those babies!





But oh, the joy!

Snowdrop, those cheeks are getting very pink!






Just one more angel...






Well, if you can't play in the snow, you may as well read about it...





Nap time, Snowdrop.
No, first let me dress these girls...
Nap time...
Just two more minutes!
Just one more minute.






Later, much later, when it is already dark outside, Ed sets out to close the cheeper coop.
I want to go!
Yes, oftentimes Snowdrop wants to accompany him. But today, it's such a production: the pants, the scarf, the jacket, the mitts, the cap, the snow shoes...
I want to go!
Okay, Snowdrop.

She trots off, confidently, happily. Leading the way.






This is the time when the cheepers are sleepy and calm. Willing to let her pat them.
And she does.






We walk back to the farmhouse. She's not done with the outdoors.
Can we take out the baby sled?
Can you tell a little girl no? Winter is harsh. Winter is seemingly forever. Isn't it grand that she doesn't feel its relentlessly long drag? For us, it's something to tolerate. For her -- it's child's play.






He pulls her in the sled, flashlight in hand. They do a circuit and then we all call it a day.





If you live in the Upper Midwest, for much of the winter, you daydream about spring. With good reason. These Arctic blasts just suck the warmth out of you.

But not for kids. Snowdrop knows about spring, but at age two, she cannot count down to it. She does ask me if we are near summertime, but I think that's attributable to the book we are reading (about warmer seasons).

In the meantime, she plays, we watch and laugh. Snowdrop surely keeps us focused on the important stuff: warm snow boots and chicken visits. Babies and sleds. Pink mitts and pink snow pants. THe important stuff.

even colder than this

Those of us who have lived in Madison Wisconsin for a long time are prone to saying things like -- do you remember when it was even colder? Like in January 1985? Like - 20F (- 29C)? And that's before the wind chills?

It is a way to treat this burst of Arctic air in context: our piercingly frigid air (a high of 4F today, or -16C) is a wee nothing compared to what passed through this way years ago. (And is passing through right now places like North Dakota, and will pass through here next weekend.)

So take it easy: it's winter, it's cold, but it's been worse and it is worse elsewhere and it will be worse here again. Put it in context! (A message I would like to wave as a banner to life in general.)


Still, when I step out this morning and we're way below zero and my wet hair (straight out of the shower) freezes instantly so that I am bedecked with icicles hanging from my scalp, I'm thinking -- damn, it's cold! 

But sunny. And Everything looks better in the glorious sunshine.

(Our old barn where the chickens hang out is rather drafty and even a scant snowfall creates killer icicles, but the cheepers find corners where they feel safe and protected.)






(When I come in, Apple is about to lay an egg. She is distracted by my presence.)






(Cold, but beautiful.)






Breakfast, that old reliable rerun here, is a bit different today. There is the pre-breakfast with Ed, only it's not with Ed because the phone rings just as I am to call him down and so it's just me and the fruit and the flowers...






And then there is the big breakfast, which actually isn't that big, food-wise, but is grand people-wise, because it is with my friends from afar (and one of their daughters). They're in town and we spend a good long time catching up.






At home again. Christmas came and went. All the work, all the preparation, anticipation, excitement. All the music, joy, family time -- it came and went. I'm that kid who likes to take down the tree the day after and move on to the next adventure. But this year, it's different. I need to keep it going for a while longer, just because it all seems so eerily long ago. I need the reminder. The toy drum, the tree...

too cold for words

How do you gauge the coldness of a winter day?

For me, it's simple: it's beyond cold when no one wants to spend any amount of time at all outdoors.

Sure, there are things that require it. People have to get to work. Too many have to labor outside in the dead of winter. Here, at the farmette, compassion would have it that I should check in on the cheepers, put out food for them, refill their electrically heated water dish, pick up the egg that will freeze and crack if I delay. So I bundle up and, despite the horrors of the day, I head out.


I must admit it: the delicate sunshine is  beautiful!






We're at -5F in the morning, which is just about -21C. Ed reminds me that there have been colder days. I agree that there have been colder days. Nonetheless, today is really cold. I do not linger.











Once inside the farmhouse, I sit back and allow myself to thaw (surely everything inside is frozen solid).

But after breakfast...






...as I work in the kitchen and look outside, I'm charmed by the birds that fly into, around, and under our crab apple trees, in search of comfort foods...






And then again, I am charmed by the burnt orange of the setting sun...





I suppose it would have to be dangerously cold for me to bypass those very brief saunters out the door to capture these images. It's not dangerously cold (unless you're young or old or thinly clad).

But oh, does it feel menacingly bitter cold out there!

Time to take out the yellow soup pot and get to work on a good old fashioned Italian bean soup for supper.


I want briefly to come back to the topic of blog moods. It does often appear, here on Ocean, that I breeze through the day without a care or without sadness. Not so. I'm lucky enough not to really feel anger. But there do come days when I fight off feeling thrown off by something that happens in my day. These are the challenging moments.

Ed is a solid rock: he, to my knowledge, does not indulge sadness. Oh, hearing stories on the news upsets him, but personal hurts? He wont give in to them. He'll shrug and remind me that personal happiness depends on what you create in what life you have.

And this is why, as I sit down to write, I feel confident in stating -- it was a good day! Calm, steady, reflective.

Christmas Day

I wake up in the same way as I went to sleep: utterly content. Oh, there is a lot of tidying up that needs to be done this morning, and I know, too, that we are entering a deep Arctic blast, but still, the day is mostly sunny and the light snow cheered up the landscape and, well, it's Christmas.

For me, the heart of the holiday was in our gathering last night. Today, the young families will be traveling to Chicago and Ed an I will settle into our new-ish couch and I will reflect and he will ask -- what you're doing gorgeous ? -- words that he uses to express his own contentment.

Because it is very cold, I start the day with cheeper care. The two new girls -- Apple and Peach -- were born last March. This is their first winter and they are both puzzled and distressed by it.






Java and Henny (the old timers)  navigate the stretch from barn to garage (to check out if any people folk are out and about) knowingly and without hesitation. The two new hens on the other hand, are unfamiliar with snow and indeed, both get stuck. I rescue one and nudge the other forward and then spread out food in the barn fir all. I have to smile at this sudden status that Java and Henny have achieved -- they are the wise old girls, the same ones that Apple likes to occasionally push around. The old folk still have a thing or two to teach the new kids on the block!






(It is a beautiful morning...)






Ed and I have breakfast in the front room. The brioche, purchased at La Baguette, is perfect with jam and a mug of warm coffee.






I cut off a chunk of brioche and then hurry over to Snowdrop's home. The young family celebrated their own Christmas gift giving, but asked if I might stop by before they head out on their road trip.

Of course! Snowdrop is 99% better and she is delighted to show me some of her favorite toys.

Predictably, she starts off with this doll.  She had said definitively that Santa was bringing her a little girl doll and though she doesn't fully embrace the whole Santa bit, she does speak of him in the same fond way as she speaks of her pretend babies and favorite story book characters.

He delivered.

Here she is, with her new beloved.





She is much overjoyed, too with a doctor's paraphernalia. Her doll, her Gaga -- we all get our hearts listened to.






I play with her a little and then read a very long book together (with a timed release photo!)...






Her mom asks if I can stay for lunch and of course, this is justso lovely (a warm bready, eggy, cheese dish that just fits the bill on this cold day)...






(And yes, Snowdrop, predictably, does like brioche, especially with a slab of local strawberry jam.)






(What do you want to take with you for the car ride to Chicago? -- I ask her.  Airplanes!)





They're off.

I return home.

And minutes later Ed asks -- want to go for a walk?

I almost say no. It's 9F (-13C) and I have received more than one weather alert calling for gusty winds that will, by evening, make it feel like -30F (-34C) out there.

But in the end, I do go out -- for a very brisk and yes, very cold walk in our local county park. Mustn't grow soft!






Decked in warm flannel, wooly socks and a wide and comforting scarf (all Christmas gifts from daughters), I do not mind the cold. The sun will make any day beautiful.






(But you would not get me to sit out on the middle of the lake today. No, not unless there would be a warm fire burning in the little ice fishing hut. The geese don't appear to mind the cold that sweeps across the lake, but I am not a goose.)






One last look at the great midwestern sky, at sunset, just to the east of us...





And then Ed and I call in a food order. If we ever could find a Chinese restaurant in town that we both liked, we'd be picking up food there tonight. Yes, we are those people: if there's no family around us, Chinese on Christmas is just fine!

But we're not fans of what's out there and so we order take-out Thai. We have a favorite place and our order is always the same, and perhaps we should vary it a little as it is, after all, Christmas, but we don't mess with favorites. I guess the only unusual thing about this dinner is that I have with it delicious wines, since I was the only one drinking any notable amount of wine last night. One son-in-law really does prefer beer, the other humored me and joined in on the wine, but as he was driving, he kept it down to a small glass and of course, both daughters were drinking a ton -- of Martinelli's Organic Sparkling Cider -- a drink that they've sipped at holiday meals since they were very young! And so there are beautiful wines that have barely been touched and they keep me company tonight.

(Thai food, eaten... informally.)





Let me take this last minute of Christmas Day to say thank you. You've posted comments, sent sweet parcels, written emails (all in the space of this past month!) -- in general, in your own way, you'e shared your lives. I'm inspired by your generosity of heart. Group hug!

with love,
Nina

Christmas Eve

No one predicted snow.

Oh, it's not deep. You can't build a snowman out of it. But it surely adds a delicateness to the landscape.

A petticoat snow.






This is our big day. For this we prepare. And prepare. And prepare.

An early breakfast. Just a tiny one for Ed and me.






... because tradition has it that we all gather at Hubbard Diner for the big breakfast -- a mega breakfast that is to last us until dinner time.

Well, most of us make it to Hubbard. Snowdrop, who so rarely gets sick (having missed zero days of school for reasons of illness since she started attending a year and a half ago) falls a little under the weather. Her dad stays home with her as she recoups her strength. The rest of us eat enough for everyone.

(One thing to note from this photo: my daughter is wearing a dress that I wore when I was pregnant with her...)






After, I pick up breads from my preferred bakery and then I head home.

(The farnmette, under a lovely layer of delicate snow...)






We sweep the walkway, but the dusting of snow covers it again. And again.






I set in on dinner preparations.

The table is set...






The foods are scrubbed, prepped and readied.

The families arrive.







(Parents of the little one)






Snowdrop was to nap a long long time (after all, she is a bit under the weather), but she resists and clamors to join us.

Oh fine! Let's open presents!

Everyone has taken such great care with gift giving!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     




(Snowdrop hands over a picture she painted...)






(Then there's the quilt for a soon to be born baby...)






It all leaves us rather emotional...

... and outside, the snow continues to fall...







Toward evening, the girl rallies. The giggles return!







Full force.













I finish off dinner preparations (with the usual help of my younger girl).






We're doing our traditional Eve beef fondue --  which requires the making of five sauces and the preparation of the cooking broth  and, perhaps most important for those of us (Ed!) who won't eat beef -- a cooking up of a veggie platter: beans, spinach, wild mushrooms and braised endive, and separately -- potato rosti, a dish of shredded herbed potatoes, with a layer of melted cheese on top.

(The veggie platter)






Dinner!






(Trying to understand the madness of cooking your meat at the dinner table...)






And finally, the dessert: the yule log.






No problem. Love it to pieces!






At the end of the evening, we sit down for the yearly photo of grandma and her daughters and granddaughter. Or, we try to sit down for said photo. It's late. The little girl has no more oomph left in her. And still, it is a lovely picture of the four of us. I am grateful for it.






I know that bloggers can exaggerate the upside of life. I know this. But for me, there is no hype, no fabrication: it was a most beautiful Christmas Eve. It will be with me always.

Many of you are just entering the holiday celebrations. Wherever you are and how ever you approach this set of days -- may they be filled with joy.

Happy holidays, with love.