Eve

Our holiday plays out in three acts -- the scene shifts, the players have to vary slightly, but it is one beautiful Christmas, made only more special by its quick appearance and then quick passage.

Perhaps the most custom heavy is Act I, played out on the 23rd this time, when my girls and their guys arrived from a weekend in Chicago. I'm to cook dinner, but I'll be doing it at my older girl's home. The tree is there -- it is the holiday hub for us this year.

A quick stop at the farmhouse, a chat with Ed...





...and off we go. Ed stays back at the farmette for this one. There are two traditions that we observe that are just entirely alien to him -- exchanging presents and eating a meal of beef fondue. There's a lot of bend and sway in him these days, but life is best if we allow each other to choose for ourselves where the bend and sway takes place. So tonight, he stays home.

Therefore it's the two young couples, and me, and it is such a beautiful evening! (Oh! And Goldie the cat. ...Who loves enclosures!) A few snap shots to bring back the best images:













(he's from Minneapolis, she's from Madison, the present is from her sister + husband)




(what did I tell you...)


The beef fondue is a quirky meal to have in place for Christmas Eve. I reached for it some two dozen years ago: feeling overwhelmed with work, kids, Christmas baking, meal planning, gift buying, wrapping -- the usual holiday stuff that drives a young parent to near panic as the holidays approach -- I needed a special but also easy meal for Christmas Eve. Nothing is easier than cutting up portions of good (pastured!) beef and making a half dozen dipping sauces for it. 

These days, fondue carries the tag of being so retro. Well now, I am that old! It was common when I first started cooking -- especially cheese fondue, which I think was America's first wake up to the idea of using a good, flavorful cheese in a dinner menu. Our version uses beef boiled in an herbed broth.






(Here you see Goldie's caretakers giving her the treat of cooked beef. She did not reject it. Neither did Isis when I took his share home.)






So long as we're now in the retro mode, I make, as you know, crepes Suzette (which, of course, means flaming them in a Grand Marnier orange sauce).






We sip sherry at the end (not so retro anymore! This one is making a comeback!) and sing along to the too familiar songs from Christmas Even on Sesame Street. (The girls were babes when that tradition got started. Their partners kindly humor us on this.)

And then Ed comes to pick me up and to deliver the errant gift that refused to be UPS'ed on time and it really is such a fantastic evening!



And now it is December 24th and it is as cold as I remember it ever being on this day! (The temperatures never get beyond the single digits.)

I see the sun rise from our bedroom window and I am just so happy to be entering now Act II of our holidays: breakfast at Hubbard Diner.






Ed joins us for it. I'm well dressed this morning -- all gifts from my girls -- and this is the last hour that we have with my littlest one and her fiancee, so you'll see more pics of her and (sadly) none of my other girl and her husband! Never mind, the older two will make an appearance in Act III tomorrow!






It's sad, of course, to see my youngest then take off. There are too few meals in life with your kids, and especially with those who live in far off cities. But, this year we had two Acts together and so I have few complaints there.






The day refuses to get any warmer. It is too tempting to stay in the farmhouse and admire the sky, the snow, the winter sun from within. No! Mustn't get soft! We get in the car and turn toward the park down the road.






And we spend a wonderful hour on the ski trails.






The sun is low when we return to the farmette.






We pull into the driveway. We'll be spending a quiet evening with Isis. Basking in warm thoughts!

I'll leave you with this last image from the old orchard -- for your own Eve.





For Ocean readers who celebrate Christmas -- may you have a joyful holiday! Ed will say -- every day is a holiday and in that spirit, let me wish for all of you a time full of good cheer, good food and, of course -- enduring love.

preparation

Ed is still sleeping, Isis has had his breakfast. I step outside to dust off the walkway from the most beautiful delicate layer of snow -- the kind where you can almost see each crystal, gently placed, one on top of the next.






And it comes to me then that perhaps I really am happiest with all seasons. That so long as there is a warm farmhouse waiting, I hardly mind at all the winter cold, even as it freezes my wet hair this morning and most assuredly I do not mind the snow.






I go back inside and start breakfast.






And I set to the task of making tonight's dessert -- Crepes Suzette.






Everything about tonight's meal has a comfy retro feel to it. But I wont write more just now.
After I'm done with the crepes, I pack them up, along with odds and ends and head out to my daughter's home. She, her husband, and my littlest one and fiancee are driving up for a Madison Christmas. Tonight. I'll write about that tomorrow.

In the meantime, merry day before Christmas Eve! Don't let all those last minute ads in your email get to you. Ignore them, go outside. Happiest holidays to you, from the farmette, which looks glorious right now!

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.