Saturday

I had many many goals set for today and the two days that follow. Because I wont be looking after any grandchildren I have no excuses for not attending to details of life. Some of those details are boring (yes, the stuff you and I do to get from one day to the next), some are challenging (deciding where to go for a ski week outside Wisconsin in five weeks, given that we all have no idea what the status of Covid will be in five weeks), and some are just plain old fun (soaking up a forest on skis at our local county park, after a breakfast of reheated croissants).

Let's plunge straight to the fun stuff. 

During breakfast, Ed tried to convince me that Durango, Colorado is my best choice for skiing, despite the fact that the town is many many hours away from Denver, where presumably I could fly to from Madison. When I protested the long drive, he noted that I could additionally fly from Denver to Durango. Never! -- I said. Short flights are the worst! They are always on tiny planes that rock in all directions the minute a cloud puffs up in front of them. Moreover, once I'd arrive in Durango, I'd have to rent a car, because it is impossible to imagine that I could ski straight out of the tiny airplane onto beautifully groomed Nordic trails. Not that I even know a thing about Nordic trails in Durango. This was all Ed's idea because I believe he once traveled through Durango.

After this, we did go out to ski locally. It was cold, and the 1/16 of an inch of fresh snow did nothing to take away the iciness of the terrain. Still, skiing in the park to the right of the road at least keeps us off groomed trails, so however slippery it is, it wont shatter our bones if we fall. And, as always, it was peaceful and beautiful!

An apres-ski treat:

In the afternoon, I set out to touch base with the grandkids who haven't been part of my orbit this past week. I did not strike gold.

Sandpiper was napping when I called.

Primrose and I communicated via text -- a preferred form of communication of all the older grandgirls.

Juniper was unavailable. She wont be available for a video chat for a good six months, I should think.

And Sparrow hates with a passion meeting up via Zoom. I promised him that he could go on practicing his handwriting (apparently his preoccupation this afternoon) even as I chatted "at" him via the screen, but that wasn't going to cut it either. 

The conclusion? Sometimes grandkids have better things to do than to humor grandma. Which honestly is a very good thing!

In the evening, after a dinner, I struggled to enjoy episode 6 of Breaking Bad. How can a series be so good and so, well, unenjoyable? Life is full of contradictions.

Friday

I'm definitely treading water this week, waiting to see if the ice doesn't crack under my feet. Do you see why this convoluted upside down image makes sense? 

While I wait to see if anything changes for the worse (so far the answer is no, everything is the same, which is good!), I dream big. Of skiing skating with my grandkids. And Ed (the skiing part). Of skiing by myself. Far away.

As I think about all this, I get so very hungry for crispy breads and flaky croissants. So I tell Ed -- breakfast will be late, but it will be yummy!

(to the bakery!)

 

(... for croissants!)

It is cold and there's a dusting of snow. Just enough to make your skin prickle and your car skid. I'm not sure it makes sense to go skating with my inspired skating super champ, but I pack up the necessities just in case.

I pick up the little girl and offer her some choices. Evey day she has been testing negative and today I feel she is past the window of possible infection and so the farmhouse is again on the table. 

She wants it all.

And I thought about an article I'd read in the paper today about how difficult it is for families before an infection hits their home (avoiding it is so stressful!), and when it enters their home (do you segregate? isolate within? whom do you test and when?), and it continues to be difficult as days of waiting and watching become intense. Here's why: some, but not all family members will become infected. Sequentially. So you have new triggers of shifting quarantines. In the meantime, your sitters stay away, your kid's schools throw down their own reentry requirements which change as different household members get sick and which will be separate and different for your workplace. Those lucky enough to stay negative, nonetheless have to follow the labyrinthian protocols -- all there of course to make others maximally safe. But it's messy and complicated and it all changes over time. Just one tiny example: Sparrow was under a ten day quarantine, which the school district changed to five days, effective next week, thereby shortening his stay at home to... nine days! Believe me, the parents are happy to take that extra day of childcare!

So because it's been one crazy ride, I'm ready to give the girl anything she wants today. Including time on the ice. And believe me, nothing about this day's weather is pleasant. It's bitter cold again, there's a wind, and there's that intermittent dusting of snow. We were the only live beings outside!

 

 

 

Yet, she was happy.

And proud.

And I was proud too, mostly because she wanted this despite the bad weather and despite the fact that she also longed for a cozy time at the farmhouse.

Which she got.

It was quite dark by the time I drove her home. The car had that extremely cozy feeling it gets on wintry days when it is so cold out there and so warm inside. She was well fed and rested and ready to talk about school.

I listened to her tales of some child's misbehavior and I threw in the comment that maybe the boy under discussion wants to get attention or maybe he's just getting used to school. I note that her mommy, who volunteers in the classroom for about an hour or two every couple of weeks thought him to be a smart and interesting child.

Oh, he just shows off for the parents! He wants all of them to like him. He wants to seem cool.

I ask -- so... so, how many of your friends have parents volunteer in the classroom?

All of them! 

Really? Are they mostly mothers? I know that most mothers work, as do the fathers.

The volunteers are all mothers.

No dads?

One boy (the worst behaved, according to her) has a father who sometimes comes. But his mother also volunteers.

Yes, here we are in 2022 in a progressive community of parents who buy their girls books such as Rosie Revere, Engineer and She Persisted and Herstory. Just send your dads to school to sort books for the teacher already! Shush!

 

A crazy week indeed. The type that requires some quiet moments, maybe in the forest? I'll put that into my calendar for tomorrow.

With love...

 

Thursday

The good news is that today we will top the freezing line again. Just a couple of degrees and just for a few hours, but still -- warm, for January in Wisconsin. The bad news is that today we will top the freezing line again. Yesterday afternoon, most of the outdoor ice rinks closed in Madison. I read that there was "puddling." I didn't see any of that on the rink we skated, but perhaps today will be different. Perhaps we'll be chased out of an ice skating adventure by ever forming puddles! I always thought that once formed, ice rinks sort of stayed put, until the first crocuses popped out. Who knew I had to live in fear of melting ice!

Ice skating not withstanding, it was pleasant to walk to the animals this morning in balmy air that was stuck just at the freezing point.

Ed has started talking about our planting plans for spring -- that's how good it feels to be outside right now!

(Breakfast)

At the grandkid home front, everyone is doing exceptionally well. No one has any Covid symptoms, and Snowdrop continues to test negative (as does Primrose in Chicago). True, her brother remains trapped at home while she gets to go about life almost as she knew it before. This is the time to dust off the old saying about life being terribly unfair. There is no other explanation.

 

I picked the little girl up at school in this new way of ours -- I wear a mask, we plan an adventure that's totally outdoors. I don't have to ask what she would like: yesterday, on her second day on skates, she caught the skating bug.

And so we return to the rink in her neighborhood park.

Sure, the ice isn't brilliantly clear or perfectly smooth, but there are no puddles and it is eminently skateable. And in this sport she is brave and strong and very quickly she ventures out on her own. She has secured her balance on ice.

Again and again and again.

I lure her off with a snack, hot chocolate, and some reading...

 

 

 

... but afterwards, despite the fact that I had taken off our skates, cleaned them and put them away, she wants to skate some more. Back we go!

The sun sets and I am feeling the chill of moving around over a sheet of ice for the better part of the afternoon. 

 

 

 

I take her home.

I have to add here that this isn't only about the little girl skating. I used to skate quite a bit when I was younger. And of course, eventually I stopped. Most older people don't skate much. Somehow the thrill of putting on blades and slipping around on ice dissipates. When I did return to it a few years back for the exercise if nothing else, I crashed and decided that maybe senior skating isn't such a great idea. But since then, I've given a lot of thought to why we limit ourselves as we get older. Not doing sports you once loved seems like a cop out. Perhaps what should change is that I shouldn't skate recklessly (I was a demonic skater: a bit of a show off on ice). Gentle skating is fun and teaching a grandchild to skate is deeply satisfying for many reasons. And you don't show off in front of your grandkid, so a fall is not going to smash your bones to fine powder.

This afternoon as she took her short little steps on the ice and I skated off on my own for a while, I felt I'd gotten my skating legs back again. And at my age, well, that's deeply satisfying.

Hot soup for supper. It just seems fitting after an afternoon on the ice.

Wednesday

It's good to remind myself which day of the week this is because our schedule is a little wacko right now, with two kids down with the virus and the rest continuing to test negative. Let me amend that: it's really not correct to say the kids are "down" with something, because they are as rambunctious as any nearly eight month old guy who loves to practice pushing a walker, or a three and a half year old who has been quarantining too long (in his judgment) at home. So, both boys are very much upright, but still, of course, waiting out their period of isolation.

Today is one of those days where winter turns suddenly mild. It wont last, but we are above freezing for the first time in a very long time and so the ski trail conditions are yukky. We need more snow! But, the air outside is lovely and gentle and mild. Good day to scrape off icy patches on the walkway to the house. After breakfast.

Because I am still being cautious, I will be picking up Snowdrop from school (wearing my best mask!), but we won't come to the farmhouse. Instead, we'll do an outdoor activity of her choice. To spice up our outdoor picnic, I bake one of her favorites (and mine too!) -- the World's Best Blueberry Muffins.

I am more prepared for an outdoor adventure today. Yes, I pack the fruits, the muffin, the chips she loves, the hot cocoa with marshmallows (she eats them separately). And the extra mittens and socks. But I also do a search of our city's skating rinks so we don't waste time driving around. And lo! I find one just a couple of minutes up the road from her school (and therefore an equally short distance away from her house).

It's a neighborhood rink, maintained by volunteers and it is absolutely perfect. Not too many bumps and cracks, not too slick. 

But really, it is the weather that has given us this wonderful gift of a glorious day. Oh, I remember when a high of 38F (3C) would have caused me to make funny shivering noises. But after a period of Arctic air, it is a true gift.

 

Snowdrop makes tremendous progress on this second day of skating for her. Whereas yesterday she could not stand up at all on the ice, by the end of today, we were skating holding only one hand.

And I thought -- wow, sometimes there is a silver lining to the big mess you find yourself in. If we had kept to our regular schedule, she would not choose to skate right after school. She would always choose farmhouse first. By the time she is ready to be out again, it's late and dark and colder than cold. But because we were obliged to stay outside, we skated.

And it was grand.

Hot chocolate...

She noted that we were close to one of her favorite neighborhood playgrounds and so we went there as well.

 

We aren't fully out of the woods yet. The infection could still spread within the family. That would be messy: isolation would then be extended for everyone. But why look for the worst case events when you are handed this beautiful day. Despite everything, a really beautiful day.

and then...

Well troops, how is it there in the trenches of Covid-land for you? Are you avoiding the arrows that are flying at you? Are you dodging the punches?

Good for you! (I hear there are some who can still say -- "Covid hasn't touched my family." But I'm not hearing that too often these days.) Keep your masks in place and don't go out anywhere! What? You have to work? You need food? You need childcare? Oh, well, gosh, that's a problem. Keep your fingers crossed then! But don't hold your breath.

We got hit here, in my Wisconsin family. A babysitter with Omicron. She only had contact with Sparrow and Sandpiper, but that was enough. Both kids are now positive. Snowdrop had been with me on that day, and more importantly, she is fully vaccinated. She's negative. So far. But depending on who you ask, you get all sorts of prediction: once one soldier falls, the whole barrack will follow. It's a question of time. That's one prediction. The other? Well, the babysitter was fully vaccinated and boosted. Maybe her load was low. The brothers are thus far asymptomatic. So maybe their load is low. It'll all blow over in a few days. That's another guess.

Ed and I are both vaccinated and boosted, but our booster shots came in September (when they were first approved) and so according to one set of outcomes, we are long past the period where we could proudly say "we wont get it." Chances are we will get it, if and when we are exposed. Just not so severely as to needing to update our wills right now (according to most data on this). 

The question is -- who can we safely see? Certainly not Sparrow or Sandpiper. The other members of the family? They all tested negative on several rounds of testing. But it could be early. And testing is good for a full blown infection and less reliable for early stage infection.

All this to say that everyone on the planet has their hands full with Omicron spread, and we are no exception.

Breakfast, before any positives landed, so leisurely and carefree...

And then POW, KAZOOM! Two kids infected! Now what?

In the end, I decided to play it safe, somewhat. I would still pick up Snowdrop, but I would wear my best KN95 in the car and crack the windows open whenever her protests (Gaga, it's cold!!!) subsided. I would not bring her to the farmhouse. I would pack a book or two and a picnic snack and take her straight to a park to try out her new ice skates.

Hi Snowdrop, I have some good news and bad news, which do you want to hear first?

(Does ANYONE EVER want the good news first? She went for the bad, followed quickly by the good, of which there was plenty: no one is feeling sick, mommy and daddy and you are negative (so far), and guess what -- no one will bug you to play with your brother more in the next few days! She liked that one!

Going ice skating proved to be far more difficult than I thought, given that we're in a town that prides itself as being home to two Olympic skating medalists. My first try was a nearby park where my daughters first learned to skate with me.

No ice there this year. Thanks, Madison.

Next -- I know for a fact that all our big lakes are frozen over (it's been THAT cold!). Why don't we go to the boat ramp at Lake Monona and skate from there?

 

 

What a dumb idea. The ice is horrible by the shore. Horrible. You'd have to be a pro to get past that. I do know that there are better spots to enter the lake, but I dont know where they are and the girl is starting to feel cold and less interested in skating.  (Gaga, look at this gorgeous ice brick!)

I have one more idea! How about the pond by her old preschool? I've skated there once or twice, years ago...

We drive through the old neighborhood where she once lived and this is Snowdrop for you: a girl of big feelings. I miss my old house! -- she tells me, as tears swell in her eyes. What stands out for you that you miss? I don't remember anything, but I miss it! She cracks a smile through her tears.

The pond turns out to be a pretty good place to take a beginner. Not perfect -- the ice is not smooth and there is nothing to hold onto  -- but good. With a bench at the side that's perfect to lace up the skates.

She is wobbly. And though I consider myself to be a very good skater, I'm feeling wobbly too. We wobble together.

She gives up.

She tries again. 

I get my balance back. She hangs onto me with all her might and I'm surprised we dont both fall flat on our backs, but we don't.

(Confidence takes hold: look, I can stand on one foot!)

 

And then there's the hot chocolate and her chips and fruits and a few mini marshmallows too. Always end tough lessons with treats!

I take her home.

We have a bit of a wobbly week before us, with lots of question and few certainties. I'm putting in an order for more mini marshmallows and hot cocoa as we speak.

(Hello, evening farmette visitor!)

 

With love...

to ski

You'll grant me that I'm motivated this year. Anyone who goes out when the wind stiffens your face with every gust and the temps never move beyond 8F (-13C), insisting to a skeptical sweetie that it is perfect skiing weather is motivated.

(the tracks in the snow? all made by animals that visit the farmette lands...)

 

 

 

I blame the pandemic. It has shaken us all up for sure and even those of us who are lucky enough to not fall sick with the virus have spent many hours thinking about how much our vision and our plans for the immediate and long term future have fundamentally changed. This is particularly true for us older people. If you are a skier, you have come to understand that with each year, your skiing ambitions must grow tamer and if you are a traveler (and I certainly was that before the pandemic), then you've watched the clock tick as you've stayed stuck in your home. You ski close by and at the same time you long for one, maybe two last ski adventures. Of the type that take you to new places, where the snow is perfect and the forest fills your lungs with sap scented air. And the more you know you can't go anywhere, the more you put all your energies into skiing close by, hoping that maybe you'll get in good form for that big adventure that someday surely will be yours again.

Breakfast first.

But by noon I am ready! Ed pushes back some. The weather, leg stiffness, the icy snow cover -- he tries it all, but in the end he goes along.

And yes, it really is cold out there. Skiing into the wind is like having a thousand needles thrown at your face again and again. And it is icy. There are no classic tracks in the part of the park that we take on for today and your skis lose their forward glide easily on every slant. 

Nonetheless, it is beautiful. Winter sunshine is stunning in its contradiction: if it's a war between the cold air and the sun's warmth, then surely I think the sun handily comes out ahead. You lift your face toward its rays and you feel the world is a happy place after all. 

 

We don't stay out long, but the loop does us good.And leaves us hungry!

In the afternoon, I bake a Galette des Rois. It's a bit late for this French treat that properly belongs to January 6th, but I had this idea that baking puff pastry wrapped around an almond filling would really smell nice on a cold winter afternoon. And it did, even though I did not crimp the dough enough and some of the almond filling ran away.

The rest of the day? Oh, doing some research, just in case the pandemic magically recedes and I am able to travel again this winter. To ski, far away. One can dream!

the new normal

Unquestionably, over the past two years we have learned that there is no new normal. That, of course, has itself become the new normal. But how could that be? A new something that claims the something doesn't exist?

These are the questions that run through your head as you try to figure out new routines in a year that promises to disrupt all of them for you. 

Hey, but the weather is typical January: bright and beautiful. And super cold, but we have learned to ignore that. Two out of three is just fine for us.

Breakfast, cozy, with cozy candle of course.

We are all trying to figure out the new Covid protocols as more people call in sick left and right. No one in my family is sick, but these days this seems to be the exception and I don't think we can expect to get through this Covid wave without some fallen troops, with at least mild symptoms or -- wouldn't it be wonderful -- no symptoms at all. One can hope. But in the meantime, we are gauging possible exposures and until we have it all figured out and confirmed by negative PCR tests, we're putting on hold farmhouse visits. So no Sunday dinner unfortunately. 

Ed and I do manage a hike today. Yes, a hike, not a ski run, not a regular old walk in nearby parks, but a lovely hike in the Brooklyn Wildlife Area. I think we needed the forest and the prairies and the birds and all that golden sunshine to wrap their beautiful cloak around our shoulders and give us a push forward in this tricky month of the new year.

Some photos for you:

And since I have no young family pics to share, I'll break my rule of not bringing in day-old photos and post one of sweet little Juniper in Chicago. I did not take this photo -- my daughter did -- but still, if I were to call her on FaceTime, this is what she would say to me:

With her eyes, of course. You do know that newborns don't speak, right? (She is three weeks old.)

Honestly, I do not know of many families (any people?) who are not having a rough time of it right now. Think how much stronger we'll all be when we're over the hump! With characters the toughness of a diamond! 

In the meantime, the snow sparkles, the air is crisp, winter moves forward, oblivious to it all. Tomorrow, despite the next Arctic blast, I am promising myself a day of winter appreciation! 

Until then, with love...

the birthday continues

It's hard to plan a birthday for a seven year old in these Covid years. But it's not impossible. You can keep to reasonable mitigation protocols, even if you live up north and (unless you're a polar bear) outdoor celebrations are not an option. You can make it as safe as a day in school. Masks, distancing when possible, good ventilation. Vaccinated kids, vaccinated parents. 

Today Snowdrop finally has a birthday party. Most of the girls from her class came. There was a theme -- of self care, of relaxation, of a bit of fun. There are party people out there that will bring in props that you can borrow and use in the safety of your own home. In my eyes, it was a party of release and pent up exuberance.

All this in the afternoon of course.

Breakfast comes first for me. Always. It's the weekend of the last sweet bread slices!

 

And no, there's no skiing for Ed and me. Not today. Shortly after lunch I go to my daughter's house to see if anyone needed help with the set up.

Oh! everything is ready!

 

 

(Sparrow is impressed)

(There's a place to relax your skin, relax your toes and feet, and to finish things off -- string some tiny beads and take a bracelet home. Snowdrop checks things out before her guests arrive.)

Guests arrive. The excitement is palpable. Here's one guest you know very well, who is pretty excited about being included.

Of course, there is also the more traditional part: of cupcakes and fruits, of candles and wishes.

What struck me throughout is how much pent up joy these girls had. Of being on this weekend afternoon with school friends, of dancing (oh, how they danced!), of having lived through these strange times, where school and life required such hugely unusual adaptations. And yet, they got through it and now finally, maybe maybe they can safely play together again. 

Two years, ripped from their young lives, but maybe not totally ripped, because I would bet anything that they feel stronger and closer to each other for having gone through this very messy period together, well, sometimes remotely and always with all these mitigation measures, but together nonetheless.

And Sandpiper? He slept through most everything!