Wisconsin!

If I lived, say, in Marseille, I'd never have days like this: waking to a half a foot of snow on the ground. Beautiful, fresh, puffy white stuff, coming down all around the farmette.






Here's the farmhouse, in its snow-blown glory:






I live in a state that knows snow. The plow is out just as we sit down to breakfast and the last snowflake settles on the branches of trees outside.






(The bird is pecking at the branch upside down. Presumably to avoid the snow.)






Now, I promised myself that porch roof climbing would stop. But it did feel like a rather heavy snow, and the wind curiously created a few spots where I could actually stand on boards and feel more or less anchored, so for the hell of it, I went out and pushed the copious amounts of snow off the roof. My it's pretty from up there...






And if that isn't enough outdoor exertion, there is the walkway (my job) and driveway (Ed's job) plowing to do.






I don't mind it. There is satisfaction in heaving loads of snow off the ground to create a clear path.

And even this is not enough of outdoorsiness. Not for me. We go straight out to Lake Farm Park (that's the one just up the road from us) and we are the first to hit the trails. We do the long one today!






For obvious reasons. The occasional streak of sun, the fresh snow -- it's all so beautiful!






Really beautiful.






And because it is Wisconsin, the trail packing vehicles were out getting the trails ready, so we benefit from that as well. Though we are here first!







In the afternoon, we go to my daughter's house to look in on Goldie the cat. Like Isis, she doesn't really disturb wrapped packages. You have to wonder what she's thinking -- are these colorful blocks for me? Well now, thank you.







...But I prefer my own toys.






By the time we drive home, the snow begins to fall again. Lightly. Nothing requiring additional clearing.

At the farmhouse, I put on my good playlist and I light those beautiful lights on the little "tree." Did you notice the Polar Bear below the tree? I grabbed him from the reject pile as my daughter picked through old family ornaments and decorations. I think my girls always believed he looked more like a toilet plunger than a tree ornament. Maybe. But if so, then let's just acknowledge that he is one helluva really handsome toilet plunger!






Chicken chowder for dinner. It belongs to this day.

winter solstice

It is such a peculiarity of nature that daylight is at its shortest as we begin our slog into the winter season!

Today, of course, is winter solstice: at midday, we see the sun at its lowest arc. (Did you know that even though we have fewest minutes of daylight, the sun actually sets later today than it did in the past few days? It has to do with the elliptical path of the earth.) Though here, in Wisconsin, we wont really see that elusive sun. We're in a cloudy stretch of freezing mist. Pretty, if you look at it from the side of the wind.











With really pronounced ice crystals.






But biting cold. It reminds me of central Europe in winter. (And by the way, Warsaw gets two hours less of daylight today than we do: they're only at about 7.5 hours, we're nearly at 9.5. My sister lives in Stockholm and they, poor souls, are at a mere 6.)

My color today is at home. I stayed up late last night wrapping...






...which is such a luxury! When, in the past, could I take the time to do this several days before the holiday? Ed was impressed:
Take a photo! It's so pretty!
It struck me that he's not been around gift wrapping much. It goes without saying that he and I do not exchange presents.

It's a day of smiles. At breakfast...











After breakfast...






In the course of the day, I go out only once, to the grocery store. A pretty drive!






In an icy gray sort of way. (This is the road just by our driveway.)






In the late afternoon, I fret about a key gift that did not arrive. The company where I made the (online) purchase is no longer picking up its phone, nor is it responding to email (somehow I had missed the key fact that it was already well into bankruptcy proceedings). In a resigned acquiescence to the superiority of Amazon, I reordered said item from there and sure enough, within minutes it was on its way.

The little guys let me down.


In other news -- it is a delightfully slow-paced pre-holiday weekend. My girls, their guys and occasionally Ed will be joining forces over various meals this Monday evening and Tuesday morning. Followed by a part two dinner on Wednesday. None of this is at the farmhouse and that's more than okay -- the reindeer have taken the sleigh elsewhere this year and I am content with it all, so long as we can have our time together.

Which is the truly magnificent part of this season.

the season

The weather continues to define each day. As expected, freezing rain overnight. The porch roof is finally off limits. Neither Ed or I are that insane. (Though we did do a google search to see what they use to de-ice planes... Verdict? too toxic!)

The next drama is to come on Sunday (heavy snow) and then on Monday (single digit highs).

December is such an interesting month.

And such a beautiful month! A musical month. My playlist has five hours of favorite Christmas music and I judge it to be incomplete. However did it come to pass that I took on this holiday and considered it my own? The heathen who loves Christmas!

Understandable, no? When I was living in New York, everyone I knew was Christmas-happy. The family I au-paired for was Jewish, but they had a tree and gave Christmas gifts. So, too, Ed's family. Well, obviously! If I could love Bach, if my college professor, Prof. Sachs, could show me the relevance of St. Matthew's Passion to everyone's life, doesn't it follow that all tradition, and especially all musical tradition should command the same respect?  In those days at least, Christmas was everyone's holiday.

That wonderful music -- repetitive, familiar, glues it together and I listen now to my playlist, jumping between Polish hymns and Ella Fitzgerald and Diana Krall and Clare College and Kings College and St John's College and if that's all too serious for you, I have also the Muppets -- ohhh, what's there not to love?

Ed goes upstairs to escape it all.


Scenes from the day:

Breakfast, almost ready!





Ice!











Christmas at the farmhouse.

Thursday

I read student wills today. Or rather, drafts of wills that students wrote for others. For some reason, it was a very touching experience. Most of them took the (ungraded) assignment seriously and their finished product was both creative and with a personal touch. I like that.

The day lacked sun. That winter grayness set in. It was expected. As is the ice rain for tonight. Weather today should be ignored. Everything else proceeded smoothly and with charm.

Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. More than ever, they define the day. Put contours to it.
















The sun tries to break through. Momentarily. I seize the minutes and head out for a brisk walk "around the block." The air feels cold in its dampness. In anticipation of that icy drizzle tonight. An unexpected warm up, but not warm enough to break the long spell of below freezingweather.






On the bright side of things, I want to say that there is breakthrough in the case of the orchid plants! I've had these babies for years and in recent times, they've not bloomed. This year, they're finally coming around again. As if to say -- we know our home is here. We can relax now. Not hold back. We're content.







And, too, it is a wonderful day of 'almost retirement.' Yes, I'm still reading papers and exams, but I'm doing it slowly. Contemplatively. No hurry now. None whatsoever.

winter day

A poem written to memorialize it, a dinner invitation, messages, emails, cards, comments here on Ocean. Then the student thank yous. Unexpectedly. Gifts. Flowers. Beautiful notes. Wow. How can people be this nice?






Who knew that retirement would be this... emotionally charged?


Winter sunrise. (From the bedroom window again. How convenient that one doesn't have to step out to take in its beauty!)






 Breakfast. (And yes, I'm responsible for shaving that beard off. He had grown quite the Santa stuff in the time I was away.)






And a fairly pretty winter day in Wisconsin. But, I'm still attending to things. Perhaps I will always be "just" attending to things, but I do have to say that today, I accomplished much that needed to be done.

An office visit (producing these flowers that you see in the first photo) and errands in every direction and so it isn't until after 4 when I finally pull into the farmette driveway.

It really has gotten to be too late to ski. (The sunset, over the farmette.)






But a walk? Can we do a walk?

Yes. (In the same Lake Farm park where we so often ski, just two minutes east of us.)















Then home. Isis comes to the door as we come in and his loud meow is full of accusation. Where have you been?
It's dinner time. He gets leftovers, we get leftovers. Satisfied, he goes right back to bed. Ed plays volley ball. I sit down to post.

Tuesday

Write quickly now, before my still jet lagged senses shut down for the night.


Breakfast, in the sun room (with a new little cloth spread over the round table):











Next -- a major organizational roundup. I'd call it cleanup, but it's more than that. Stacks of papers, piles of books, clothes, oh everything -- all out of order.

So this was the morning: ordering things and then polishing it all up. Ending with a prominent setting of the plant we use as a Christmas tree.






One glance outdoors and I see that it's a sunny day. Warmer than the previous two. Touching thirty maybe.






It's impossible to stay indoors. There is a new layer of snow and I once more (perhaps for the last time?) climb up on the porch roof to sweep it off. And then I just want more of the outdoors.

And so we go skiing again.











And that's just grand, except that I have my sixth floor (where I worked) friends from the Law School coming over for supper. And so after the skiing, time gets a bit tight. I don't even pause to take many photos. It is one huge sprint to bake the cornbread, poach the pears, roast the fish, make the sauce for it.



the cornbread -- with apples and onion




the pears, in honey and wine


The friends come and it is a merry time of of reminiscing and poem reading (on retiring) and then we call it quits because they have to be at the office tomorrow morning. Not me. That "have to be at work" schedule belongs to the past.

I'll be picking up exams to grade tomorrow or the next day, but I'm not at all stressed by this. It's the last bunch. And after, I'll turn my face toward the projects that I'm lining up for the years before me.

back home

There's a beautiful moon outside...
I know, but my camera is packed and I haven't the energy to look for it.

It has been a long trip back and the last part -- waiting for the last flight to Madison -- seemed the longest of them all. A delay of three hours isn't tragic, but it wears on you, especially when the crew keep saying - just a few more minutes - and it's not that at all.

But it surely seems like I snuck in through a window of decent flying weather. Snow the day before, snow today -- wow, there's winter in Wisconsin!

We stopped at the grocery store on the way home from the airport. Salad - I want a salad! Oh, home is looking so good!

In the middle of the night, Ed again tells me about the moon. But I don't want to move: Isis has snuggled at my elbow all night long. I don't want to disturb him.

Still, it really is bright, throwing winter beams over the snow-dusted earth. I catch the shadows of the night out the bathroom window.






And in the morning, there is a sunrise, and I don't need to leave the farmhouse for that either.



out the bedroom window





out the bathroom window



And there is breakfast...





And there are chores to be done, groceries to be restocked, all that.

And thenthe  snow starts falling.






Want to go skiing?
The temps are in the single digits... Well sure, why not.

It's crazy to go skiing at 4 p.m. when you could have gone at 3 or 2 (because you're retired!). But we do just that, driving over in the old Geo that, against all odds, Ed repaired in time for the winter season.

It's spremely quiet out here, in the woods by the lake.





No  ski tracks to follow, just a white path.

It takes us an hour to do the loop and sure enough, it's nearly dark when we finish.





You don't like this as much as Paris, he says.
We talk like that. It's the way we express a feeling of pleasure.


At that farmhouse, Isis has settled in for the long haul. That cat is a poster boy for contentedness. He's not the only one.