adding years

Late last night, I lost myself in an internet chase. I'd read an article in the paper, and from there, I followed a link to a person whom I once knew, and this then lead me to someone else, who in turn was closely associated with the little girl I took care of when I returned to the US at age 18, acting as an au pair to her family.

I lived with the young girl and her parents for a small handful of years and it is no surprise that she was close to me and I felt a huge amount of affection for her as well. But when I left, moving away from New York to pursue my further studies in Chicago, I did not stay in touch -- with her or her family.

There are many reasons for it: they are prominent New Yorkers. I was just a glorified baby sitter. However fond we were of each other, it was a fondness not born of familial ties or even friendship. I was hired help. Once an employment connection is severed, you really need to move on.

I read about the family in the papers all the time, but they are who they are and I am elsewhere -- in my own orbit, which, as it turns out, evolved into a life that took me into other professions over and beyond being a nanny -- though some might argue that in my senior years, I have come full circle, returning to these duties that I once did well and maybe for that reason still enjoy doing -- at least to the extent that they involve now charges that are within my own family.

I write all this because last night, all those articles and family references lead me to wonder -- what is my former charge up to these days?

It's not hard to find out. It turns out that she was quite recently on FaceBook. I see that she has children of her own (I guess I sort of knew that) and those children are now older than their mom was when I cared for her.

And here's the really shocking truth: My charge was 7 when I entered her life. I was 18. I don't know why I never did the math, but it surely means that she is now herself nearing retirement.

Well that just blew my mind! I think of her as the girl I teased and hugged and laughed with at age seven, eight, nine. Somehow, she moved from that, to approaching senior status.


Today is Snowdrop's birthday. I am more excited by this than if it were my own birthday. And yet, I know (just as I knew with my au pair charge) that these young years of hers, where I am by Snowdrop's side for so many of her important moments, are just a jumpstart for what will surely be a grand and independent life -- one that will spin in its own gorgeous direction. 


We wake up to the coldest day yet. Thankfully, it is the last of the Arctic days. We've had far too many. We are so ready to move on.

Breakfast. Early for us: Ed has work commitments and I have a cake to bake.





You'd think that this baking of a cake is a trivial deal, but it's not. I choose a Tartine cake out of their cookbook and it is damn pain in the ass recipe and of course, Snowdrop wouldn't care if I used a cake mix -- she doesn't eat more than two bites of any cake. Surely she won't notice that this one is thinly coated with home cooked caramel and delicately covered in deep chocolate genache, all in between four layers of bittersweet chocolate cake. (To give me credit, Snowdrop did request a cake that's chocolate and with penguins. I deliver on both counts.)

(Spreading the caramel...)






And now it's time to pick up the girl. As luck would have it, Snowdrop had requested to go back to what she calls the "enchanted garden" after school -- the tropical greenhouse at our local Olbrich Gardens. It's a great day for it: it's steamy warm inside! I join up with her parents there.











After, we retreat to the farmhouse. Presents!






And dinner, which thankfully is only pizza, because the cake is ridiculously demanding. There, finally done.






The evening is terrific. Snowdrop, despite the fact that she hasn't napped all week and has pushed her parents on bedtime for several day now, is in great form.






We eat...






Snowdrop has us all try on each others hats...






We pause for some appropriate books, just to calm things down a bit...






And then comes the cake...






And shockaroo! She gives a puff...






And I guess those lungs have grown, because the candles are out!






What is there left to do but sing?

We cycle through many rounds of "Down by the Bay."






Everyone is, by now, exhausted. Everyone.






Except for Snowdrop.

She's happy to slip into her pajamas. And then resume her story telling.







Later... The family goes home. I tidy up and sit down to write.

Happy birthday, Snowdrop! And keep that smile going, forever and ever!

January 4

The head spins: it was this cold yesterday! And bitter cold today! And it will be even colder tomorrow!

How long before we move on to something friendlier? We haven't the snow that Snowdrop would love, at the same time that we have temperatures that are downright threatening.

Numbers. Negative numbers, single digit numbers.

Early morning numbers: I'm up and on my way to check on the cheepers.  No, there's not much snow, but what there is, reflects the joyous moments spent playing in it with Snowdrop. We created these tracks!










Breakfast. I wake Ed and ask him if he really wants to come down this early. I'm speeding this morning. Major grocery shopping. Lots to do.

He comes down. I'm grateful. Orchids blooming away.





The mid day is a bit stressful. Snowdrop has a big head bang at school. She is watched. Parents worry. She seems tired. Might it be because she has missed naps? Or is it the big head bang?

I had just explained to Ed that kids always keep you spinning.

There are medical consultations and discussions. She seems maybe okay. Is she okay?

I pick her up at the usual time: all worries put to rest. She is more than okay. She is chatty, bouncy, sharp, delightful.

I wasn't going to allow for play time outside. I mean, when the high temperature is in single digits -- that's not play weather. But Snowdrop really really  really wants a ride in the sled (with a baby in her lap). Ping! The thermometer registers 10F! (-12C) We have climbed above the cutoff point. Okay, Snowdrop! Away we go!






Later, she picks up her snow shovel and throws the powdery cold stuff on herself and then just laughs and laughs...






It's time to come inside, Snowdrop. It is really cold!

Into the farmhouse. Off with the boots, the snow pants, the jacket, the mitts, the scarf, the hat...

Robust appetite.

Grandpa always shared his cookies with me...





Little one, I need to finish trimming your hair to get you ready for your big day tomorrow.
Grandma, my mom always says, I can do one more thing. So, I  have to feed my babies.

Never argue with a Snowdrop.






This is the last photo I'm posting of this wonderful two year old.

Tomorrow, she turns three.

In the meantime, the temperatures drop, the winds howl and our bout of crazy cold weather continues.

back to school

We're all adjusting: winter vacation is over, Snowdrop returns to school.

Yes, everyone is suddenly rich with their own time. Or at least richer than, say, a day or two ago.

Or, is it that we're not rich at all, but rather we force ourselves back on the treadmill of life. The luxury of a free flow of hours has to be shelved for now. To be continued, during the next school vacation.

All this against a backdrop of bitter cold weather. Suddenly, like it or not, you have to get out there and get going, whatever the weather.

Me, I'm nearly always outside in the early morning anyway. Ed is keeping grad student hours (late to sleep, late to rise) and I'm feeling like someone should be there to greet the cheepers as they leave the coop.





It's a time to take in the farmette, on its own terms.





I have to smile today -- it feels almost balmy when I compare it to the past few days. We're just above 0F! (-18C).  Oh, how you appreciate the gift of just a few extra degrees! (Tomorrow, we're plummeting again.)

Breakfast. By our reliable orchid plants (to the far left) that bloom like crazy every winter.






In the afternoon, on my way to pick up Snowdrop at school, I pass the lesser lake. It's a popular spot for ice fishing and you'll find the huts up even on the coldest days. I've heard that these guys (almost always men) look forward to their winter vigil out on the lake. Do they feel the cold?





Snowdrop: happy to be in school, happy to be picked up as usual, happy to be going to the farmhouse where I promise her at least a handful of minutes on the new Big Girl sled. (The school smartly keeps the kids indoors on these cold days and Snowdrop is just bursting to wear her pink snow pants.)

The sled is big enough for the little one and her baby (and then some)...






But Snowdrop doesn't want to just ride a queenly ride. She wants to do stuff! Conquer the mountain!






Make snow angels! Build snowmen! (Can't be done...) Pull her babe in the Big Girl sled!






But not for long. We both know that this is not the weather for a long outdoor play time.

Inside again, she turns to the delicious prospect of throwing her Playmobil characters into a (tiny) pool. And she asks -- grandma, can we take out the blue pool? She means the wading pool and of course, I tell her it's too cold. But we can put it on the porch... No, too cold there as well.

She returns to her play, where a girl with her name is climbing into the small tub of a pool outside underneath a stately palm.






(Her speciality: making up stories about children and families...)






There is, of course, so much more to the evening after Snowdrop leaves, but I can hardly remember where the hours went. Kids keep you on schedule. When they're gone, schedules fizzle... We eat, write, read. And I think about how great it is that the cold spell will move on and, if we're lucky, a good snow cover will blanket the farmette.

One can hope.

and now we are 14

No, silly reader! Not 14F outside! We reached a high of only 9F (-13C).

Well then fourteen what?!

Years old! (Though when you get to be this old, you almost stop counting...)

Fourteen years old? Who?

Ocean, of course. I started publishing daily posts fourteen years ago today.

In recent years, I've never skipped a day. But honestly, putting up posts is child's play now. In the early years, the technology just wasn't there, especially when I strayed from home. I'd knock on doors, enter bars, use phone lines -- oh, the hours I would waste, the things I would do, just to find a daily connection! Ping! Photos uploaded! Ping! Published! Such a relief.

Too, in the early years, keeping a blog was a bit of an oddity. You blog? Why? Why? Why? Then it became passé: you're still blogging?  Now -- well, it's understood. I write Ocean posts. Even my Polish friends have come around to accepting this about me. I write daily. About seemingly inconsequential events that grow big only because I make them so. Which is profound in that it isn't very profound at all. It is life. We all live it, love it, want more of it.

So I write about it.


On a cold cold January day.






With all the warmth in the world found just inside this farmhouse. Over breakfast, for example.






Breakfast with Ed. A smiling Ed. Now that's hard to capture! He does everything to make this photo one of the more challenging ones to take at the start of each day! But today he grins.






I have inconsequential appointments and tasks all morning long. Tsk, tsk, tsk -- all those tasks, hurrying with them so that they will be done, so that I can pick up Snowdrop just after noon.

Normally, I would go to the bakery to stock up on breads and treats before I see Snowdrop, but today I ran out of time and so we set out together, despite the challenge of getting her in and out of a salt-dusted dirty old car and putting her in a seat that needs to be adjusted for all those winter layers.

Madison Sourdough - where I buy Snowdrop's croissants and Ed's cookies (pieces of which then migrate to Snowdrop's little hand) - has a parking lot with murals that I always thought are a beautiful backdrop for a photo of your most precious grandchild.

(She is studying the art...)






(... and finding the little bit of snow to walk in...)






Inside my box of purchases, she finds what is meant to be an Ed cookie.






I promise her a wee piece. Later. She is satisfied. I mean, she's in her pink pants and with her "beautiful scarf." It doesn't take much to bring out a Snowdrop smile.






The smile grows wide as I agree to a sled run at the farmette. 9F is a little disconcerting, but she swears she is warm!






Can I shovel here, grandma?






Finally, inside.  A run to the kitchen...






She knows where I store the cookies.






Mission accomplished.






Are you eating a cookie too, grandpa?






Snowdrop, it's nap time.
But I have to take care of the babies...






There is always a "but I have to..."

After the nap: is grandpa going to close the coop?
Yes... But you should stay inside. It's really cold now.
But I want to go with him!

Guess who wins that round?






Cheepers secure, in the coop.
Can I please go for a ride in the sled? 
Too cold...
Just a short ride?

Guess who wins that round?

She likes to drag her hands in the snow...






Grinning the whole time.

All the way, around the barn, to the welcoming, sparkling, beloved farmhouse.






Fourteen years of trying to find images and words that describe how beautiful it all can be.

Hello, new year

The coldest of all cold days. Insanely cold. Happy cold New Year!

I hurry to look in on the cheepers. Apple, having learned from the old girls to stand on only one foot in cold weather, is there to greet me: where have you been?! We're hungry!






A beautiful world. A beautifully cold world. Happy cold morning to you!






Breakfast. Ed is in his morning mood. But he cracks a smile!






Immediately after, I start in on the evening meal. I hadn't picked a dessert yet. I leaf through cookbook after cookbook. Huckleberry saves me! I have the ingredients! I make petites strawberry galettes. (I highly recommend this fantastic dessert: Sure, it's a bit laborious as you fashion the crust and the berries, but then you stick the whole tray in the freezer and wait until 35 mins before serving, put it in the oven and boom! Delicious.)






My daughter requested a pasta dish. Why invent something new, when this fall, the roasted squash agnolotti worked so well?!





(I do wish my younger girl were here to help form the very delicate stuffed pockets, but then, I always wish that she were with us. It is a mother's perpetual longing...)

(Timed release photo: working the dough through the pastry rollers...)






Rolling and stuffing the pasta takes a while. How much time? I look outside... The sun is setting by the time I'm done.











The young family comes over. Well, it's not a straight shot: there is the problem of starting a car in the bitter cold. No go. Darn this weather! And still, we are the lucky ones -- there is no rush. Eventually everything falls into place. And the little one? Amazingly patient, happy, helpful.






(Rediscovering her toys at the farmhouse...)






The agnolotti are finished off in browned butter and sage...






Finally, beautiful, wonderful dinner.






Yes, I like lot of cheese on my pasta!






Dessert.






And we're done. Oh, but what a beautiful day it has been!






One day down, 364 to go! Happy sailing!