another ending and a celebration

Up early. At sunrise. Captured in the bedroom window.





Breakfast. Rather rushed.
 

 


Ed is off and away for his Friday tech meeting. And I eagerly, eagerly pick up the next stack of exam essays to grade. This is the last batch and it comes from a class where I know many of the students from previous classes. I'm truly eager to see how they did. (I wont know until I submit all grades: grading is completely anonymous.)

No interruptions today. I want to get to the end.

And I do.

And now I enter the final grade ever (it's an A+, richly deserved) and after I do this, I burst into tears.

Retiring is a funny thing: I look forward to it (I wouldn't do it if that weren't the case) and I look back as well and of course, what stands out is the best of the best (it's always that way, no?) -- the most special classes, the kindest, most earnest students -- their faces are before me now. Sigh...

In reality, I'm not yet completely free from work obligations. There'll be meetings with dissatisfied students. There'll be the dreadful task of emptying my office at school -- 25 years of folders and marked up texts. Uff! Chuck it all! Light a match to it!

Maybe not.

In the meantime, in the late afternoon, I bounce back to a less emotional state. It is a beautiful day -- with loads of sunshine and warm temperatures (right around freezing). No question: what we need is a good hour out on skis.  A heavenly hour, of quiet, of blue shadows and lightly golden skies.
















And then we're home and Ed takes a quick nap and I get ready and now out we go, for a majestic retirement celebration at L'Etoile...






... on the terrifically sweet invitation of my Law School friend and her husband. Here they are, to my left...






...and joining us are my daughter and her husband, to my right...






...and I'll spare you the photo of Ed or myself because you see too much of both of us here on quite the regular basis! Even though, shockingly, he did comb his hair for the occasion -- you might not have recognized him!


I haven't eaten at this very special restaurant since I did my moonlighting here (that ended just about the time Ed and I began spending time together -- in other words, eight years ago). It is a superb place of great food -- such great food that awards are cluttering their hallways. I'll leave you with a photo of my dessert -- a meringue, champagne citrus sauces, pomegranate, ice concoction -- all refreshing and deliciously prepared.






The moon is weeks away from being full and there is a light cloud cover tonight. And still, on the drive home tonight, I say to Ed -- it is such a bright, bright night! ...isn't it?  

December 26

There are the days before Christmas and the days after and it really is remarkable that they all share one month because really, they have nothing in common.

Oh, you may argue otherwise: breakfast! There is always the farmhouse breakfast!





But after? What a difference a day makes!

First, we spend a while blowing a hairdryer on a set of windows. They've created substantial ice dams. We breathe a sigh of relief when we can release the screens and we take them to the farmhouse shower, where the built-up ice will surely melt.

Then I settle in to grade. From morning 'til dinner, without interruption. No that's not right: I stop once -- for about a half hour. Yes, yes -- to sweep off the porch roof! It may well be the last time. Today, I note that the wood beams are iced over. That's not good. Even my slippers slide. But, I get the job done, enjoying, as always, the beautiful view onto our farmette buildings from up high.





Then, back to reading essays. I read 79 so far. 65 to go.

Evening. A winter still outside. Though I know there will be movement soon. Every day I find new tracks of deer and other animals, many of them quite close to the farmhouse.






Dinnertime. Yes, you guessed it -- leftovers. The day after. What a difference...

Christmas!

A morning of snow, of winter, of Christmas.

He wakes up, shifts position and without even opening his eyes, says, as if programmed to do it -- Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to you too.

I read the NYTimes editorial -- commentary on this mighty day that is so important, so tradition ridden and I think -- yes, it is exactly that: a day like no other. A day of finding joy in life. Of working with all your might to create those pockets of joy.

Pancakes for breakfast! (At least for Ed. My joy is in my oatmeal with kefir, fruit and honey.)











Like Scrooge, this morning I open my books and do accounting for the year. Unlike Scrooge, mine are meager sums. But, this annual exercise is always a happy event as it always, always shows a small profit for the year. Ever since I first started keeping financial records some forty years back, I rounded up my recorded expenses. The reality check comes at a time when we're all groaning under the burden of the holiday bills. Yes! piggy bank money, to be sure, but still -- all nicely black. Enough for that extra treat at the end of the year. Ice cream anyone?

In the afternoon, Ed and I ski. We talk about breaking out and moving beyond our local park trails. Yes, we consider it, then we smile. Not today. We stay local today and pay tribute to the immense gift of being so close to a county park.















Evening. My older girl is cooking dinner for us. A Spanish Christmas! -- she tells me.

Such cooking talent! We have an excellent meal of seafood paella.






Her husband finishes their gingerbread house project...






...we eat (not the house!), and this brings a close to the holiday, to days of holidaying, to this season of festivities.

Thank you, Ocean readers, for all your sweet, sweet comments and wishes. As always, I am touched by your generosities.





Onwards now to the tail end of 2013. Such a year!

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.