Christmas week

I do understand that for many people, Christmas Eve begins the period of celebration. If you follow that tradition, then the twelve days that follow Christmas ostensibly trigger a long lasting birthday party of sorts, no? One religion-focused website instructs celebrants to keep on partying until the Epiphany (January 6th). It's the Feast of Three Kings, emphasis on feast. So, feast and party away, from Christmas Day until then. It's a bit of a simplified view of the holiday, but that's the way I have always understood it to be in Poland. There, the tree goes up on Christmas Eve and then I suppose you rejoice for twelve days after.

Since I have always picked aspects of the holiday that fit within my own view on what should be celebrated, I sort of flipped everything: Christmas activity starts now, and the momentum grows until the holiday itself, and then it fizzles. Done. The music, the feasting, the family gatherings, and yes, the presents -- all finished oh, maybe one or two days after Christmas. I'm ready then to put away ornaments and switch back to my jazzy folksy classical music. The Christmas tree is usually tired, and so am I! 

Thus for me, it's the week before Christmas that's special. It's contemplative. It's anticipatory. It's like the days before Thanksgiving: all full of hope, no recipe has failed yet, no weather event has foiled your best laid plans to travel to be with family. It's all beautiful and intense and potently sentimental. 

I suppose for my family, the joyful gatherings will always begin now around the time of Juniper's birth. And immediately after that, we fully engage in holiday madness. And so today I wake up to that feeling of incredulity: we have passed the midpoint of December. Solstice is on Wednesday, Eve on Saturday, Day on Sunday. A loaded week of preparations. 

I also wake up to a very real cold spell. An Arctic blast rarely makes its way down here for the holidays. But this year -- wow, it's really cold, all the way through Christmas Day. 

With the chilly air, though, comes a crispy frosted beauty. When I go out to feed the animals, I take my time, detouring to corners of the farmette land that I rarely visit in the wintertime. I see that another tree has fallen. But mostly I see the magic of a winter with snow.

The hens are all clustered in the barn, refusing to step out into the big freeze, except for the one Bresse girl who insists on laying her egg in the garage. She runs over as soon as the coop door opens and stays in a box on top of the table saw until the egg pops out...

... then back she goes to rejoin the rest.

The cats? They take a long while before finally stepping outside.

Ed is sleeping late today, though I wake him when friends drop in with Christmas greetings. We linger with them around the kitchen table and postpone our breakfast until after. In the meantime, I light a candle -- my new juniper one. It triggers memories of a December celebration alright!

Yes, it is a late breakfast, but that shouldn't have thrown me off. We often eat quite late. But somehow, between that and the fact that I have no scheduled Snowdrop pick up (she is still home sick), I am completely lost to the world, planning out menus and making lists, and this is all fine, except that at 12:30 I am startled to see that it is... 12:30! I have a coffee date with my daughter set for 12:15, on the other side of town! [She wants to hear every detail of the birthday bash, since she had to miss it due to the illness that swept through her home.] I have never in my whole life lost track of time so completely. I carry a clock in my head all the time, to the point that I never need alarms and wake-ups, nor reminding pings and calls -- I know when to get up, when to pick up kids at school, or take them to lessons and appointments. I'm on automatic clock pilot!

Not today. Today I completely messed up. And mind you, my daughter is the one who is on a work schedule and has the time constraints that I no longer have. Sigh...

Well, we do have our coffee and my girls are always very forgiving of parental eccentricities and peccadillos. But after, I hop over to Clasens Bakery (my last visit there this season!) and pick up some chocolate gingerbread to atone for my unfortunate behavior today. 

And I take it over to the young family's home, where (from behind a mask) I also get to visit with Snowdrop -- sick since Friday, though hopefully on her last day of whatever bug circulated in their house.

After I come home, Ed and I toss around the idea of going skiing. We are really unmotivated! It's cold! It's late! We've got stuff to do! Tomorrow! For sure!

Tonight, I reheat the soup I made yesterday and we tear off pieces of bread from Clasens and thank our stars that we have such a wonderfully warm house, and me -- that I have such wonderfully warm daughters in my life.

With so much love...

birthday bash

This day marks my final attendance at a birthday party for a one year old! Of course, you never really know. Unexpected babies pop out all over the place. Best guess though -- this is the last time I'll watch with utter contentment as a babe plunges freely into a piece of a first birthday cake.

It's almost always better here, on Ocean, to hand over the stage to the main players on a day like this one, so I will hold back the words and rely on photos to tell the story of how it all unfolded.

1. Breakfast: I come up just us oatmeal is being served. 

I cut up the fruits for us all and join them at the table.

2. The Cake: this was a long process! My daughter had already made the cranberry jam and the sugar coated berries. Last night, actually late into the night, she baked the cake. This morning she is making the frosting and putting the whole thing together. Primrose helps.

The dad helps as well.

Done!

3. Getting everything and everyone ready: we make a paper chain to decorate the room. And now the kids get dressed. As it's a special occasion, I share my lip gloss with Primrose. Can you tell? No? Okay, I'll use more next time!

Juniper, the birthday girl, wakes from her nap and also gets ready. No lip gloss for her. Just a crown!

(Happiness is... owlie.)

4. Grandparents arrive (and, too, an uncle an aunt).

5. Lunch: the savory part.

6. The gifts: first, a card from big sister.

A musical llama from me. Juniper is so musical that she will sway rhythmically to her own banging on the xylophone.

Wait, do I see more presents? Yeah!

You know she is getting tired when she clings to a purple box and looks with glazed eyes at all of us.

7. Lunch: the sweet part. The cake: finally, to be enjoyed. The song, the candle -- just one!

No no! Can't touch!

Mesmerized.

Help blowing it out.

The younger family.

Eating it! Loving it! Being amused by it all!

And there you have it! A beautiful celebration of Juniper, the youngest little one in my pack of grandchildren. Pulled off grandly by her dedicated and joyous parents, and her friend for life -- her big sister Primrose.

I drive home soon after. I want to get back before dusk. Blasting Christmas music, losing myself in thoughts of this month of festivities and foods and love, so much love -- I get home in no time.

Hello, snow-covered trees.

Hello farmhouse. Hi Ed...

Let me tell you about my weekend in Chicago...

With so much love...

Chicago: a day with Juniper and everyone else

It's almost as cold here as it is in Wisconsin. Almost. But who can even notice such details when the day is so full of family. Yes, I wish the Madison bunch could have been here. In the end, back home, all kids and one parent came down with a virus and there was no way they were going to drive down here and share their woes with the rest of the family. So, unfortunately, they're home. But everyone else is here! Well, later in the day they will all be coming together.. 

Initially, the morning is calm. I come up when Juniper is already eating breakfast...

The girls have a bath and get ready for their day. It unfolds differently for the two of them. Juniper is going to stay home, with me...

And Primrose -- after helping her mom make candied cranberries for her sister's cake...

And after playing around with my time-released selfies...

... the big girl gets ready for her dance class and recital. (her mom is an expert at ballerina buns!)

She and her parents are off!

Juniper looks at me with quizzical eyes: what are we going to do now??

Ha! Selfies, of course! This grandma will surely be remembered for those time-released picture games!

Ah, Juniper! You don't know that this weekend is really for you, do you...

You don't really understand the concept of birthdays yet. That's okay! You'll grow into it. I expect you'll be counting the days toward your next one and the one after!

In the meantime, would you like to walk over to the grocery store with me?

I bundle her up. It's below freezing and the wind is brutal!

(Even as the city has its own winter beauty after a light snowfall...)

Phew, that was tough going. though! We have a pause for a breath of warm air in the store, where I pick up the essentials: flowers and more fruits (since I tend to make copious fruit bowls for everyone when I am here, well, back home too!).

Time to bundle up again!

On the walk back, Juniper is less willing to stay hidden behind layers of cloth. By the time we reach her home, her cap is off and wickedly tossed to the side, her blanket is pulled down and she is laughing triumphantly, bitter cold wind notwithstanding!

At home, I feed her lunch. As I tidy up, she explores. And finds. Are those presents for me?? Yes, but not today little one! Tomorrow's the party!

Eventually the family returns, another set of grandparents flies down and joins us, Juniper tries on her first pair of shoes.

... and then we all go over to yet another set of grandparents for a pizza supper. With snacks!

Two kids, adored and watched over by five grandparents this weekend! (The sixth one is home finishing his own run with some virus and, too, tending to the animals while I'm away.) And another uncle/aunt combo are here as well!

And still, this is not the birthday celebration. For now, we just enjoy watching the kids cavort. May they sleep well tonight. With visions of sugarplums, or at least sugared cranberries...

... and so much love...