Sunday - 289th

Two young families that I love so deeply! Each unique and perfect in my eyes. Loving and kind. Playful and smart. I'm sure you recognize these traits, or similar superlative qualities in your children. If they are older, I'm sure they know how hard it is for you to go through these months on these new pandemic terms. For most of us, it's a rare day where we can all see each other in real time rather than through a Zoom or Portal screen. And when we do, even if only outside, with social distancing, etc, it's magic!

I had a double dose of magic: an Illinois park meet up with the younger family in the morning and a Wisconsin farmhouse meet up with the older family. 

There isn't much time to think about it now, or to write about it, perhaps even digest it, but then, there will soon come those long winter months when I can see neither and I will be happy to come back to these images. These scattered family times aren't valuable just in the  day they take place. They stretch into the future and keep me afloat as we wait for the days when we can be well, more normal.

For now, not many words, but a heck of a lot of photos!

 

It's not too cold today -- just around freezing. I'm up early and Ed, in joining me for breakfast, comments -- too bad you don't have sunshine for your outing.

He helps me load the car with Christmas presents and I am off. 

Two hours later, I'm at Raven Glen Forest Preserve - a place for which I will always have total fondness, because it's where I have been able to spend time with Primrose and her parents, even at the height of the pandemic.

And here, two hours south of the farmette, the skies are a gentle blue gray! Lovely!

 

I load some of the gifts onto a sled. Primrose spots this right away when she arrives. There's no snow here, but a sled can be pulled without it!

A walk to the lake. Primrose is holding on to a book that was part of the gift pile...

We were here in the thick of fall and now we are so on to winter! The lake is frozen now.

(Studying a chunk of ice from the lake...)

First attempt at slip sliding (aka skating, of sorts!)...

And loving every minute of it.

Happy girl!

A mango and gingerbread snack...

A dance, a song, a distanced hug. See you in the awesome new year!!!

Two hours later, I am at the farmhouse, taking out the pots for tonight's dinner.

A quick but very sweet, remote Christmas gift check in with the Chicago family (we'd exchanged presents, but it wasn't practicable to open them in the park)...

And now the Madison family comes and it is as any Sunday -- noisy and lively and one could only wish that this was the norm, not the exceptional month when we can do this without worry.

(Snowdrop goes right for the Wobble -- beloved until the moment when she drops the heavy board on her foot!)

(Sparrow, on the other hand, goes for the tiny Legos, still not believing his luck in gaining access to them...)

(An after dinner exhale on the orange couch...)

It's snowing outside. I step out and watch them navigate the quickly accumulating white stuff. 

 

 

 

A gift. This Sunday was a gift.

Christmas 2020. It ends for us tonight.

288th day and a holiday pause

 There is no excitement, no splendid meetup with kids or grandkids. (Another set of very isolated grandparents is visiting with the young family this weekend). No celebration, no cooking craziness in the kitchen. It's a winter day, a quiet winter day. A pause in December's whirligig of activity. 

A working breakfast, in that Ed is trying to keep the handle on my 40 year old pot from falling off. All my pots are very old (except for the nonstick medium frying pan, which gets replaced every five or six years). And they work beautifully! Except when a handle decides to disengage...

There is a lot of catch up work around the farmhouse. Tidying, putting away, washing. But by mid-afternoon, we're ready for a substantial walk. We drive down to one of our favorites -- the Brooklyn Wildlife Area. And we do wear our blaze orange stuff. It's still the hunting season and indeed, we spot at least four hunters with their big rifles and their hounds.

But apart from that, the trail is empty and the air is bracing and the path is ... not too slick!

The next three photos are all about the sky, because really, in these hilly areas, you climb up a bit and look out, and feel yourself always to be dazzled by the enormity and great beauty of the sky. Today we actually veer off the Ice Age Trail (to avoid some hunters) and are rewarded again and again by lovely views across the forests, farmlands and prairies. With a moon, showing off its belly, up above.

And, too, we see an unusually large number of airplane contrails (some actually casting a shadow in the sky), crisscrossing the heavens as if in search of something. There must be little wind up high, or else they'd long be dispersed.

 

One more sky, just a few minutes before sunset. Over a corn field, of course.

By the time we return home, it's growing dark.

Supper? If you like eggs (as we do), here's an idea from Xi'an's Famous Foods chef Jason Wang: scramble up some eggs in a pan, but take them off the skillet just before they're done. Then throw some chopped green onions on the same pan, cook on high for literally less than a minute, then add some roughly sliced tomatoes, and now return the eggs, add a little soy, a dash of salt and you have yourself a super supper! I also roasted some tetsukaboto squash, because we have so much of it from our CSA!

 

And a salad. We are the true salad crunchers. Every day. Green stuff, today with chopped up beauty heart radishes to brighten up a winter plate.

Christmas Day

 Glorious sunshine and bitter cold. 4F (-14C) when I step outside to feed the animals. THe path to the barn feels as solid as rock. Beneath the surface there'll be bugs, frogs and sleepy bumble bees, hiding away for the coldest of the cold months. I wish them a happy rest!

(Tuxie, whose fur coat surely keeps her snug...)

And to the rest of us who haven't the ability or desire to sleep away the season -- well, happy Christmas! (Or, happy winter if Christmas is not your thing.)

Breakfast, just a little special, with Panettone, that Italian sweet bread that is enjoyed by so many all over the world on this day. (I have to smile at the size of this one, which, by the way, I did not bake: just big enough for two. Perfect for 2020!)

I have a lot of baking and food prep for this day, but I do not plunge into it right away. The New Yorker pulled together a handful of holiday-themed stories from years past and they sounded so deliciously tempting that I allowed myself a pause to read just some of them. As a gift, the magazine is making them available for sharing. Here's their description, with my links to each story: 

In “Hack Wednesday,” by Margaret Atwood, a Canadian journalist reflects on her marriage and past decisions as Christmas draws near. In “The Burden of the Feast,” Bobbie Ann Mason recounts growing up on her family’s Kentucky farm and explores the nostalgic allure of holiday cooking. In “Winter in Martinique,” Patrick Chamoiseau describes his enchantment with the Christmas pigs that his mother raised while he was growing up in the Caribbean. Lorrie Moore writes [in Chop-Suey Xmas] about the complexities of celebrating Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and Christmas all at once, and James Thurber offers a parody of “A Visit from Saint Nicholas,” drawing inspiration from Ernest Hemingway. In “Year’s End,” by Jhumpa Lahiri, a college student returns home for the holidays to discover that his loved ones have changed in his absence. In “The Christmas Miracle,” Rebecca Curtis conjures a tale of a family gathering that is thwarted by the mysterious deaths of several cats. Finally, Frank McCourt recalls [in Christmas Past] an unconventional holiday dinner that he had with his landlady and her son after returning to New York from a stint in the U.S. Army.

Which ones tempt you? For me, can you guess? Yes, the Kentucky farm (good!) and, too, the disappearing cats (funny, in a strange sort of way)!

There are moments throughout the day when I pause and again, the emotions swell. For the health care workers. For the empty places at tables, for whatever reason. For all of us for whom the vaccination cannot come fast enough. 

(Setting the table for dinner...)

Most of my day is in the kitchen. Baking. The planned buche de Noel takes almost as long as to grow a whole forest of trees. I had tried many recipes over the years and finally, exactly twenty years ago, I settled on one with orange flavored cream and a bittersweet chocolate ganache.  

And the main course? Cornish hens -- another traditional holiday dish for us. I get them ready for the oven.

In the late afternoon, the young family comes. Snowdrop is soooo excited to give me a gift, chosen by herself..

Sparrow is still recovering from a sound afternoon nap, so his mommy helps with the presents. He certainly is on board with the idea of presents!

We all exchange gifts and they are all wonderful! One always wonders what a child will glob onto from the pile before her. Surprisingly, Snowdrop really liked the Wobble. 

The things you can do on a wobble!

I'd thought Sparrow would be too young to enjoy this, but, if Snowdrop likes it then he surely must give it a try...

And now we connect with Primrose!

She, too, gets asked about favorite gift. You can't take a child's word for it, but as of this moment, among all her toys, Primrose chooses .... a pair of scissors and demonstrates the incredibly fun activity of... cutting (while mom gives the old shrug that kids bring out of us so well and so often!)

Okay, the cornish hens are very ready!

The yule log is ready too, but it needs additional touches. Snowdrop applies her artistry...

Later, much later, I have Ed take one more photo before they all take off under a star studded sky. I'll end with this picture, wishing only that the extra little space on my knee had Primrose on it too

I clean up to one last round of holiday music, putting away the last dish to the strains of Silent Night.

With love.

Christmas Eve

If you celebrate Christmas, aren't you especially fond of this day? Even if you are a child and Santa isn't expected until tomorrow? In Poland, of course, Christmas Eve is everything. Sometimes I think Christmas Day is an afterthought -- to recover after the celebration. All festivities begin at sundown on Christmas Eve and last long into the night.

I don't follow the Polish rituals and indeed I think our family traditions are a rather eclectic mix of rituals adopted and improved upon over the years, but I do love this day quite a lot.

It's freezing, here, in the upper Midwest. The coldest Eve I can remember. A high of 11f (-12C). But pretty! There is an ever fine sprinkle of dry snow and the clouds are not particularly threatening.

Inside, I do shed a few tears. (Admit it, for whatever reason, didn't you?) For me, they come when the young boy sings the first bars of Once In Royal David's City during our broadcast of the King's College Nine Lessons and Carols. I've written about this program before. It has been broadcast live, every year since 1918, when it was first aired as a solace to a war ravaged nation. This year, the choir had been rehearsing until the very end and then the decision was made to not gather for a live performance, given England's surge in infections. But a rehearsal had been taped just in case and we heard it today and it was beautiful. You had to be moved. If Christmas is about feelings of compassion, how could you not think about all those who have lost so much this past year? How could you not feel a surge of love for those in your life who make you so very happy?

Surely the holiday is also there to remind us all that there is still much joy in our lives. Despite everything, we can search for those grains of joy.

Breakfast!

And now I'm in a hurry. Finish wrapping, start cooking. Those two tasks will fill all hours of daylight. Until the young family comes.

 

 

 

Our first item on the agenda is to connect with the young family in Chicago. It's time for ...

Each child was to prepare something for this: there s singing, recitation, dancing, And plain watching,

And lots of applause and fun.

And then comes a tradition that has been in our family ever since my girls were little -- a family viewing of Christmas Eve on Sesame Street, while I cook.

We have pasta with super special sea foods (giant shrimp, scallops, and yes, a few tiny lobster tails!) in white wine sauce. 

I had asked what they'd like for dessert for Christmas Eve and Snowdrop shouted out "ice cream!" Well okay! No baking until tomorrow!

(A moment to take it all in...)

And now the young family returns home to do their own bargaining with Santa and stockings and cookies and reindeer foods, while Ed and I settle in for a restful evening over popcorn and a movie.

A beautiful evening. Sure, I wish the younger family from Chicago could be here but hey! They are well and thriving and I am already imagining all the times we can come together in the year ahead. 

Oh! What's that? The jingle of bells? Must be Santa...

Wednesday - 285th

Crazy winds, weirdly warm temperatures, snowstorms raging just a short drive to the north and west, clouds, sunshine, clouds, and within hours -- a precipitous drop to bitter cold weather. There, have I set the stage for this day?

Morning walk, with traces of snow still evident.

Breakfast flowers.

The kids are as bouncy and all over the place as the stuff going on outside. 

First thing on the agenda: rehearse for a family Christmas Show.

Except that Sparrow does not see himself as a dancing, prancing reindeer. Nope, cannot be coaxed!

They want to do art, but Snowdrop tries five times to get a picture right and fails each time. 

 

 

 

I begin my talk about not cutting down too many trees. About art being a process, not marked always by success. She walks away dejected. "I"m a perfectionist! I guess it's a good thing I don't want to be an artist when I grow up. [Lately she has been saying she wants to be a scientist. A chemist, to be precise.] In science, it's good to be a perfectionist."  She cheers up.

Then she goes through a period of not feeling up to snuff. A bug? What? I cannot say. (I can only say that it cannot be Covid, since the young family has gone nowhere and seen no one since mid-November. Nonetheless, she is checked. We live in weird times.)

Meanwhile, Sparrow helps pile on the cheese on the pizza. Gogs believes in a lot of cheese.

 

 

Lunch and the appearance of sunshine revives Snowdrop, though at this point, I can't say that Sparrow is his usual chipper self. He claims he wants to take a nap. 

But, by the time we go out to walk toward the car, everyone is revived. At least for the next half hour.

After I return the kids to their home, I come back to an Ed in need of a walk. We haven't been out trekking for a couple of days now. Sure, the wind is fierce and the sun has set...

But we need the movement. And the restorative rest that comes from being outdoors. And watching the geese soar over a flaming sky.

And a forest bath.

Evening. A call from Primrose! All warmth and smiles as she eats her supper and I fix one for Ed and me.

 

And then? I cannot tell what will happen next. There's chaos outside as clouds roll in, the winds turn downright violent, the temperatures start their plummet. Shush! What a day! No surprise, I suppose. It's Festivus!