Tuesday

Do you remember the movie Christmas in Connecticut? The 1945 film with Barbara Stanwyck? [For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, the story is about a woman -- Elizabeth Lane -- who is a well known food writer for a major magazine. She writes about her life as a mom living on a farm and she churns out stories about her sweet and cozy existence. Included, of course, are recipes of her homemade... whatever. Trouble is, she is, in reality, a single woman living in New York and the entire story line is pure fiction. Even the recipes aren't her own. She snitches them from her friend and restauranteur, Felix. It's a fast paced comedy of errors flick. Very "of the era," so if you're going to be bothered by some of the archaic ideas (and you should be!) that belong to that postwar period, then you'll probably find plenty to complain about. Me -- I actually do enjoy the plot, even on the rewatch, preferring to focus on the fact that the character breaks stereotypes and forges ahead with her success, even if it is, well, ill-begotten!] Sometimes on these quieter winter days, I think I am not unlike Elizabeth, churning out blog posts about farmette life and cozy breakfasts and well fed chickens, with pictures of blueberry muffins and references to chili that'll last all week, and notes on films watched under a warm quilt on the couch, with a background of twinkling lights on the Christmas tree.

The difference, of course, is that our reality here, on the farmette, tracks that story line. I'm retired, a dedicated cook, and I love to write. And there's chili that'll last a week. Every detail sounds like something Elizabeth would write, except, of course, ours is that kind of a life. 

In truth, we are not unusual in our daily habits. We are very quirky in other ways, which you would surely pick up from reading Ocean. But in our day-to-day movements -- we're conventional Wisconsinite-Madisonians (even though we don't live in the city itself). And yes, this kind of daily stuff -- feeding animals in the morning, caring for grandkids in the afternoon, going on hikes along forested paths, cooking up dinner for everyone on Sundays and holidays -- is really very satisfying. No wonder Elizabeth Lane was hell bent on feeding that image to her dedicated readers. [I do promise you -- I do not secretly live in New York City and unlike Elizabeth, I do know how to boil and egg and change a diaper.] Loving warmth and fragrant aromas coming out of the kitchen -- that's universal, isn't it? Still, as I'm about to sit down and type up a blog post about the cold crisp air as I go out to feed the animals...

... about our breakfast, with the Rustic Pine candle adding a glow to the kitchen table, and a steaming bowl of oatmeal with dribbled honey waiting for me...

... I'm so reminded of that movie once again! And feeling very grateful that our hygge warmth and farmhouse coziness is a reality, rather than just an image of what I think you would want to hear.

(from the kitchen window..)

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Just before picking up the kids, I drive to the next town over, which happens to be the home of our post office. (We are not part of the Madison mail circuit.) A package is being held there for us and I am curious about it. And well I might be: it's from Germany, from an Ocean reader who must know how much I love central European bakery treats at this time of the year. The box is filled with packs of cookies straight from a bakery in Aachen. Yes, chocolate covered gingerbread with hazelnuts, wafers with a dusting of cinnamon, vanilla half moons. (I have never been to Aachen, so I had to look it up on a map: the city is right at the western border, where Germany and the Netherlands and Belgium collide.)

This always touches me -- when a reader does something unexpected and kind. Postcards from Australia. Christmas calendars from California. Or, simply an email from Michigan. People I've never met, yet I know them in this special way -- they react to what I write. We keep in touch. And Ocean becomes something bigger and better than just my words and photos on a computer screen. Because now I get to know a little of their lives too. (Sometimes I know more than just a little and a friendship grows out of the exchange and that is just wondrous!)

Thank you to all of you who read, and extra special thank you to those of you who take the time to write me a note. Or send me German cookies for Christmas!

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Here's my afternoon duo!

Our thermometer topped at 23F (-5C) today so there's still some snow on the ground and both kids had recess fun rolling around in it with their friends. By the time of the car ride, they were sapped to the core.

Sparrow, as a kindergartener, rarely has homework assignments, but Snowdrop has quite the stream of things she has to do after school's out. I've never loved the fact that teachers give kids lots of homework and I don't love it now. The girl does need a couple of hours to regain her strength, to nourish herself, to unwind, to process her day on her own terms. This is great and she has ample opportunities to do just that at the farmhouse. But this means that I hand her over to her parents just in time for their dinner hour and after that she needs to drag out her homework assignments. She's not alone in this, of course. Many kids go to after school programs and don't return home until 6, facing the same issue of work at the end of a long day. And there isn't much time! School starts at 7:40 in the morning, so weekday bedtime is necessarily on the early side. This is why I wish schools would realize that homework just does not fit neatly into our lives right now where two parents work full time jobs (or worse, the child lives with only one working parent). Ah well. Eventually they'll be older, and their bedtime will be extended, and they'll do their assignments under the light of the moon and all will be right with the world again.

In the meantime, I feed them, read with them (well, mostly with Snowdrop -- Sparrow is happy with the occasional book, but also loves his time at the art table, or building towns for character play) and get them into some form of a zen state so that they go home happy and relaxed.

And yes, in the evening, Ed and I slurp chili and watch a show and it is indeed a beautiful evening here, at the farmhouse in Connecticut Wisconsin.

Monday

I am not a supremely knowledgable art spotter, but I can usually distinguish works done by well known artists. Especially when we're talking about artists painting in a style that I've tracked in museums over the years. But when this painting popped into my FaceBook feed this morning, I was stumped. Never would have I guess it's an Edward Hopper. (It's called Le Bistro and it's at the Whitney Museum of American Art, though it's not currently on view.)

In the blurb that was appended to the painting I read that Hopper thought that at the core he was an Impressionist, at a three dimensional level. (Meaning that in his paintings, he was always interested in the third dimension.)

Why mention it here? It's relevant! It was one of those moments when a chance reading triggered multiple reflections: about defying labels in people, in one self, about looking beyond the first impression, about how little I really know even when I think I know it.

It's a perfect morning for musing. The house is together, the tree is up and glorious now in its daytime rendition. And it is very very cold outside. A high today of 24F (-4C). The snow stayed put of course, but it's like a bread on its second day: credible, but not as perfect to behold.

The hens aren't budging from the barn. At some point they will feel the need to head out and search for a better world, but right now they're working through their first shock of cold weather. Ed and I discuss, as we always do, each year, whether they will need extra heating. When we get Arctic blasts, we do place a heater by the coop, but in these freezing but not beyond the beyond cold days, he's convinced that they can do as well as their other feathered friends out in the wilderness. I cant help but think that their skinny feet look awfully vulnerable and their combs seem to flop in despair. Still, they are Wisconsin chickens -- they have been through this before and they'll get through this again. Besides, we are told the this is going to be a mild winter (El Niño effect). We can hope. They can hope.

Breakfast. Cozy. And early. 

It's hard to think about going out for a walk in this weather, but I do it! Ed has a work meeting so I'm in solo mode. Not wanting to make a production of it (so cold...), I walk the new development next to us. And I wonder why I don't stop at the coffee shop that opened there a month ago. I've taken the kids for ice cream plenty of times (exorbitant prices!), but a leisurely coffee, by myself, to people watch? Just once, on opening day.

The truth is it's not cosy. Done in white on white, with a big ceiling fan that feels healthy but cold, I can't get excited about snuggling in there for long. Coffee shops, in my mind, have to have that smell of freshly roasted beans, with the hiss of an espresso machine working full blast. Steamed windows maybe, with atmospheric art work on the walls. Wood, carpeted or bare, would work better than linoleum, cushions  would be a huge plus. Fussy, aren't I? Yesterday my daughters and I were talking about how Vienna or Salzburg are fantastic winter destinations. Unimaginable without time spent in cafes. With the smell of coffee and cinnamon or cardamon. Cold weather countries (think: Scandinavian or Central European) have this down to a pat. We, in Wisconsin, should be equally capable of doing this right. My long awaited local caffe went with a different vibe. Miami Beach maybe. It does not pull at me. I'd rather drive further and do better. Or stay home and bake up a storm and drink my own milky frothy latte, or call it by its Austrian (German) milchkaffee. Sound good, doesn't it?

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. She knows I'll ask her about her day, so she gives me a heads up on how things went...

We have a few errands to run and it's quite late by the time we get to the farmhouse. Still, it is a gratifying afternoon. All indoors. Except for the walk from the car, which she always chooses to do without her coat. It'll be -100 and she'll still ditch the jacket I'm sure.

Inside, a pleasant surprise: the tree.

We read. A lot. In fact, that's all we do. She reads, she eats, we read. And then it's dark and I take her to our drop off point, driving by the light of a very beautiful Beaver Moon.

I'm sure you can guess what I will have chosen to cook up for dinner: it's chili weather to the nth degree! It takes me several hours to chop, mix, and stir things up. After I'm done with it, I can see why it took so long -- the yellow pot is full! We will be eating bowls of chili all week! And that's a good thing.

one more

It's hard not to love these days extra super much. All members of both young families are here, all the kids  are healthy and excited by each day's gatherings (it's a dice roll about the health: it's almost too much to hope for to have all five without runny noses during the season of bugs and viruses, and yet here they are and yes, I'm knocking on wood!). It's hard not to think that these days of eleven people at the table just get better and better. And the cousin play? Fantastic. And one more thing -- it's hard not to love the fact that overnight, it snowed. It wasn't a blizzard by any means, but enough to lay a magic covering on our November landscape. And thus it will remain for a handful of days.

Good morning, world. 

I dont have time to pause. I need to prepare foods for this morning's brunch at the farmhouse. Both young families will be here.

Ed drops the extra leaf into the table and brings up the second high chair. I bake the blueberry muffins that never go to waste. And then I dash out to Madison Sourdough. Snow and bakery smells go so well together!

Here's my personal take on cooking up a brunch: serve good bread product! Today's offerings: buttery croissants, sourdough bread, some cinnamon rolls, and of course those muffins.  For me, they form the backbone to the morning meal. You wouldn't think that bread is anything more than an afterthought, a sidekick to the main platter, but I have learned that with kids and adults in equal numbers at the table, good breads keep everyone happy. Then I can add the bacon, the prosciutto, the cheeses, the eggs (cheesey today!), maybe some bite sized cookies, and a wide selection of fruits. I had the image of throwing in smoked salmon over cream cheese, but watching the bunch dig in, I decided it wasn't necessary. They were content with all that was already there.

Okay, so that's the meal. I have to go back a little though, because I had a very personal investment in a moment that happened before everyone sat down. Do any of you remember when back in Annecy (during my trip there in October) I was determined to find the last matching piece of kids' clothing, because I'd already bought shirts and dresses for 4 out of the 5 of them and it would be so perfect to have all dressed in that same plaid flannel? Well, today they humored me and all wore their plaids. Which I commemorated with this photo.

During that same trip, Snowdrop had asked me to bring her back a beret from Paris. "Purple, please!" -- she hinted. I did not think I could find a purple one and yet lo! They now sell them in purple in addition to the usuals. It's a great gift to bring back. Maybe a tad hokey, but these things ("designed in Paris but made in PRC") are inexpensive and all wool (very warm and very cozy) and actually, the kids love them! These guys wore their berets all morning long. (Well, I misfired with Sparrow, who could only sigh with regret and longing, seeing the two older girls in purple. When will I learn that you cannot differentiate between the three older ones! When they are together, they all like what the other two are doing/wearing/playing. Still, he was a good sport about it and the photo is one that I love for all that went into it and for the fun they had posing for it.)

Okay, now for the meal.

Ready and waiting!

Oh, do I love having eleven at the table! 

Special props to the two kids that haven't been here since summer: 

(Juniper did eventually eat the croissant, but for a good part of the brunch, she held onto it, as if to match her beret...)

(Primrose is not a little girl anymore...)

Their play today was grand. The older three spent a lot of time doing art and playing with chloroforms together, the younger ones floated between the "art room" and the play room.

And the adults had many moments just to sit back and catch up and spin December plans (our next big gathering time). And all too soon it was time for the Chicago bunch to head back. 

There is still one lingering great moment, when I do another attempt at a photo of the Madison bunch for a holiday greeting card (not mine -- that went into production weeks ago). Everyone was in such a great mood that we scored a success! I wont post the winning photo (that one is for my daughter to use), but I'll give you a fun one leading up to it.

And they all leave and I honestly cannot stop smiling for a good four hours! 

As I get the house in order, I think about the Christmas tree that I now have in the mud room. Shouldn't I place it in water? And if I'm going to do that, shouldn't I put it already in our living room? I was going to wait until December 1st, but the tree is here and waiting, as if asking for its moment of glory... 

Ed saws off the base and in it goes!

Can this day get any better??

I suppose I could put up the ornaments... I mean, the tree is there, waiting...

(what's finer -- the entirety...)

(or the exploration of the detail?)

I take back any hesitation I had about the beauty of November. This one has been tremendously splendid. In detail and in the entirety.

With so much love...

30 days before Christmas

Is yours a home that takes in a Christmas tree for the holidays? Yes? So how and when do you pick it up?

I have to say, I tend to get stuck in repetition, for the simplicity of not having to think this through. For years, pick up was at the University Forestry Department. Okay, that wasn't super easy -- you had to be there at 8 to get a decent tree, but still, you pointed to one, you were done. Other times? At the local garden center. Conveniently located across the road from Clasen's Bakery so you could reward yourself for overspending on a Christmas tree, by now overspending at the bakery. Once and only once do I remember dragging the girls out to a tree farm, dull saw in hand, going the cut-it-yourself route. The tree was miserable, but we had hiked for what seemed like miles to find something decent and we would have taken a Charlie Brown special at that point. So I sawed and we dragged it to the car and I said "never again."

Ed initially hadn't been a fan of the idea of any chopped down tree in the farmhouse so when I moved here, I kept it really small: a wee one from the grocery store. 

But it grew. I mean, not the tree itself, but the size of it, over time. Two years ago I ditched the crate where it stood and placed it on the floor and from then on it was the proper size and I was happy. It wasn't huge, mind you -- takes me fifteen minutes to decorate it! -- but it felt authentically Christmassy. 

This year, I approached the project with prior warning to Ed. Yesterday I gently mentioned that I would be picking up a tree, reminding him that it was good for the environment and for animal habitats to grow trees, and he should expect it to go up sometime this week.

He asks -- why dont you go straight to a tree farm and maybe even cut it down yourself? Or have me do it? Look, there's a story about one nearby...

This is how today, after the usual animal/breakfast routines...

... Ed and I met up with the entire young family at Hanns Christmas Farm. It could not be closer -- just 16 minutes away along rural roads. And it could not be more beautiful. And let's be clear -- it could be colder, but not by a whole lot. We're topping the day at right around freezing once again. And it could not be more buzzing! It's our busiest day of the year! -- the smiling attendant (one of many here) tells us, as we watch cars stream into their parking lot.

There's a whole lovely story behind this place -- how the son bought the farm from his dad, who had started growing trees so that he could buy himself a new truck, how the farm grew, how hard he, the son, now works at nourishing the saplings and growing them into holiday trees, how he employs dozens of helpers, providing extra income to so many in the local community, how he donates trees to the zoo so that animals can play with them, and to our lakes, providing more habitat options for aquatic life. But what stands out to me is how special it feels to see the kids play between trees, picking their favorite (no, not that one! I really dont like it! How about this (monster big) one? Oh, come on, it will fit!). 

(and can we get this (monster big) wreath?)

Then moving on to warm up in the Christmas shop, to make a Wisconsin moment out of this ritual (rather than merely going to a big store and handing them money for a tree removed who knows when and from who knows where.)

A few more pictures...

And they are done.

Ed and I were going to saw down a tree ourselves, but honestly, the ones they had precut (just last week) looked so perfect that I failed to see the point of heading out ourselves.

Fast forward to the afternoon and my younger girl arrives with her family. We all meet up in Clasen's Bakery!

(Sparrow runs to greet the new arrivals... as if he hadn't just seen them yesterday, in Chicago)

(I haven't seen this girl since...August! Clasen's has a huge gingerbread house. Kids love it. Adults love to take pictures of kids inside...)

(And this girl! How she has grown! Catching up to the Nutcracker!)

(carrying their load of cookies...)

(and now all four are in the house. Sandpiper is home napping.)

And then we all gather at my older girl's home for some tree trimming fun.

So, more pictures...

(My older girl's tree trimming snacks are legendary! The best is Wisconsin's Rush Creek Reserve -- a cheese sold only in the late fall, still in the oven, softening...)

(Sandpiper doesn't want his new truck to go on the tree just yet...)

(the oldest and the youngest in the room...)

(cousins: a tree shape in front of the now decorated tree...)

(who will place the topper? Sparrow has the honor this year, but he is too short! So he passes it to Primrose who passes it to Snowdrop who passes it to her dad...)

(The older threesome take a bow and curtsey. They're all dancers. They know how to do it right!)

(Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree, your branches green delight us!)

(The evening ends with pizza and a movie. Which one? The Muppets Christmas Carol!)

And now we are done (with their tree) and all of a sudden, Thanksgiving is but a distant memory. We are 30 days before Christmas, but we are fully in the right mood for it. And that's such a beautiful thing!