winter!

A friend reminded me yesterday that we've hit the middle of meteorological winter. Well then! We have many weeks left for significant snows! Half over, but a whole half before us.

In the meantime, I have to admit -- I'm enjoying the few inches of powder that we have on the ground now. It's cold still, but I hear we'll be drifting past freezing again this weekend. That's a warning: play now, because it may all disappear by Sunday.

Not you, girls! Don't get too brave. Turn right back -- we'll talk about food once you're in the barn.






They said it would be a cloudy day. Well now. Prove them wrong!






Slowly, the sky moves from gray to misty blue... (This view is of the farmette land, as seen from the road.)






But if I am enjoy the snow, it has to be a solo act, or, later in the day -- with Snowdrop. Ed, after avoiding everyone's sniffles, has finally succumbed to some mild version of something or other. He wants to come down for breakfast, but I suggest this as an alternative: upstairs, under the quilt,






As I work in the kitchen, I look out to see visitors. I watch to see if they're finding for sustenance. Seed pods. (Note one in her mouth?) The ones from our lotus trees. Go for it -- there are still several million lying around the yard. (And please leave vulnerable trees and plants alone. Thank you!)






When I pick up Snowdrop from school, I just assume she'll want to head straight for the farmette yard. She doesn't.
I just want to go inside, to read some books and eat fruit and play...
I surely am not going to push her into being out in this cold weather. I lug in her snow apparel, take off mine and start putting it all away.
Grandma, I really do want to go outside!
Whaaaat? Now??
Yes!

I laugh. She laughs. And honestly, she doesn't stop laughing, giggling, teasing for a long, long time.






... after I've put away all our winter stuff?
Yes!!!






Can I take my baby?






Faster, grandma! I loooove fast!











After a half dozen small hill runs -- down and up, down and up... -- I'm ready for a change.
Let's shovel ahah's sheep shed walk!





I'm going to cover you with snow, grandma!






Snowdrop, I have snow everywhere!






Let's go inside.
But I don't want to...
Let's see if ahah will share his cookie with us.







And back to laughter...






Yes, snow with sunshine will bring out the best in us! (A nap and a good snack help.)

and so it snowed...

You know how it is: throw her a penny and she wants a dime. Well, we got a nickel's worth of snow today and yes, I would have liked a dime.

Oh, it was enchantingly pretty to wake up to this! (Looking out from the porch...)






I went out happily to rescue the cheepers from the misery of being trapped in the barn, fed them well and admired the beauty of the delicate snow.






(Yellow farmhouse, white snow... still falling!)






But it is cold and the snow is very delicate: like meringue. I bend down to form a snowball. I can't do it -- the pack of snow crumbles in my hand.

Still, it continues to fall -- delicate stuff, but more of it. Well, just a little more of it. I'd be surprised if we had more than four inches total and it is a fluffy pile of inches. Clamp it down and it's like a squashed sponge cake, only not as sticky.

(Breakfast, with a pretty view...)






I shovel the driveway. Ed offers to blow it out, but is it worth starting the great machine for it?

But more importantly, is it good enough for cross country skiing?

Weeeeell...

Ed and I head out to our nearby county park. It's exciting to be going skiing again. It's our first chance to do it this winter!






It's so pretty here!






But it's not a good run. There just isn't enough of a solid cover and Ed worries that he's scratching his skis. He takes them off. I try to take a downhill turn and fall hard when the boards catch gravel.

We continue on flatter ground, Ed still off skis. And now he crosses a patch of ice and falls even harder than me.

We proceed more cautiously, both on skis now and honestly, it is a fun hour despite the difficulties, but my oh my, would we love a good old snowstorm. (Not the damaging kind -- just a wet, lovely, thick snow blanket for our winter landscape.)

(Driving home... The whole band of forested land is the farmette.)






In the afternoon, Snowdrop comes over. And of course, she is terribly excited about building "the biggest snowman ever!!"

This is the best we could do:






Ed calls it our snow-clump. I tell Snowdrop the snowman looks better if she kneels next to him.






Ever the optimist, she asks -- can we build a snow house?
You can't blame me for not trying...






But grandma, it doesn't have a roof!

I explain to her that the roof (and the walls and everything in between) will have to wait for more snow.

We take the little sled and scoot about the farmette. And I have an idea.
Snowdrop, there is a secret house out here that you can enter, and it has a roof and it's very beautiful. I point to the tall firs that grow toward the far end of the farmette land. You can climb into it, see?

She does see. She scoots underneath the vast branches.






Just big enough for her. Fairly dry, with the scent of pine needles.





Can I come in?
If you ring the door bell!

But it's really to cramped for me. It's hers. And she is very reluctant to leave it!







Come on, little one! We can visit the cheepers!

Yes, that does it. Feeding them in the barn still ranks as a favorite of hers.






Can I play with them for a little bit?
One quick minute!






Indoors again, she is full of spark!






Her parents come over for dinner and she ropes them into her stories.






And of course, when Snowdrop talks, everyone, even Ed listens!






It's a beautiful day, a holiday of course. True, the snow presented small challenges, but more significantly, it delivered such great joys! And I am sure as anything, everyone will sleep well tonight!

Sunday

Let's sweeten up this cold cold day with an Ocean romp -- at least in the morning hours -- with Snowdrop.

She is sleeping over at the farmhouse and she wakes up late, happy, and hungry.

Breakfast number one. Mmm, corn flakes.






Not done yet! Mmm, granola.





It's very cold outside. Barely touching 0F (-18C). I look out the kitchen window: a cat, so orange and fluffy that if she were your pet you'd call her fluffy, walks up the barn path.
Ed!
He's downstairs, looking for his jacket in a flash. Is it a stray cat? Should we feed her?
From Snowdrop: I'm going with him! I want to help!

Jacket over p.j.s, cap, mitts. The cheepers hear the commotion. They think it's all about them of course.





Snowdrop feeds the cheepers, Ed puts out kitty food. But the cat is gone. She was, as the others were, merely passing through.

Bath time, dressing time. It's so cold that I want to see an undershirt underneath her tunic.
Grandma, I don't need the sweater dress. I am very warm like this.
Snowdrop is at that age: she wants a voice in the major decisions affecting her life.






Sometimes you stand back and let her take the lead. At other times, you show her that it's pink and has a penguin who wants to snuggle next to her...






Breakfast number two. With Ed. This one is the big morning meal and it has her favorites these days: scrambled eggs and bacon.






She should be going home, but, well, there are the characters and the stories...
Can I play for one little minute?






(Good grounds for a tease...)






Okay. Let me do the dishes while you play.
I'll help!






Eventually we head back to her house. So cold, so very cold! On the upside (and there is always an upside), we may be getting some snow tonight.

... and we'll build a snow house and a snowman...
... with pine cone eyes and a carrot nose...






It is a quiet afternoon. I resist cleaning, I defer taking care of anything at all. Our family dinner is postponed until tomorrow. I open up my kindle and read.

and back again

A day there... and back again. Cold there, colder here. January weather. With no snow.

My room at the Hotel Robey in Chicago offers a dramatic view of the city. Look! The clouds are receding. It's going to be sunny and bitter cold.

(predawn)





(yep, sunny and cold)






But the cold hasn't defined the past days for me. When I am with Snowdrop, it is crucially important: can she play outside?? No? What a shame! But as I go down to my Chicago hotel cafe to munch on yogurt and granola, and sip a steaming cappuccino, I am filled with that good feeling that comes from a warm room and a warm coffee and a good view out onto the world. It's single digits outside? So what!






Afterwards, I catch the "L" train, from this familiar stop...





... to the airport. From there, a bus to Madison. Where it is even colder. No matter. I have grocery shopping to do and then a few hours to set the farmhouse straight again, readying it for a Snowdrop overnight visit.

As she comes in, she spies Ed on the couch. Can we go put the chickens in the coop?
Snowdrop, they're long asleep already!
Can I go see them?
But it's so dark and cold!
Ahah will take me. He has a flashlight in his pocket.





She has such hope!

Off they trot.


Later, after supper, Snowdrop goes straight for her characters. Arrange, tell stories. I hear her saying -- it's a beautiful sunny day! Like me, she appreciates the warming rays of a winter sun.






A quiet evening of play, much of it on her own. Ed comments how incredibly self sufficient she is.
Yes, to a point. As she explained to me coming in from her walk to the barn, when I asked if she ran into any of the tree's branches (they hang low in places): No, grandma, I'm a big girl, but I'm not a super big girl.

Straddling the big and little. Doing such a beautiful job of it!

to Chicago

For many years now, the first half of January has included travel for me. It's a good time to take a break and recharge winter dulled batteries. But this year, I'm curbing my winter travel enthusiasm. I'm going small. Close by. I'm going to Chicago.

There is a triple pleasure in going there now (today!): the city has an art exhibit at the Art Institute that I really want to see. Too, my younger daughter lives in Chicago, so this provides a visit opportunity. And thirdly, it'll allow me to go out to dinner.

You'll think this last point is funny. We all eat out constantly, no? Well no, not me. Not dinners. Not on this side of the ocean. In fact, the last time I remember eating a dinner out would have been maybe in July. It's not that Ed hasn't offered a "night on the town," -- say eating mussels and fries at a bar counter (his favorite). It's me: when I am home, I like eating dinners at home. Snowdrop has this favorite book that she has me read over and over again where a family goes out to a restaurant to give the cooking mom a break and of course, the effort, the wait -- all of it, make for a more complicated evening than a dinner at home. My feelings exactly. And of course, I love to cook. When I really do need a break from it all, there's always takeout Thai.

Still, I love restaurants and I love art and I love my daughter (not in that order!) and going to Chicago creates for me an opportunity for all three.

Right after a quick and early breakfast...






... I catch the bus to Chicago. It's a cold day (freezing temperatures, scattered snow, fierce gale warnings) and so I table any idea of a long stroll through the downtown area.  I take the "L" train...






... and make my way to the Loop...






(Fierce gusts, bursts of snow -- what else could Chicago possibly deliver??)


 


I head straight for the Art Institute.

This is the exhibit that I want to see --  Soviet Art, noting (if not commemorating) the 100th year anniversary of the Russian Revolution.






I've heard about it first hand (older daughter had seen it, son-in-law's sister helped curate it) and I read about it in many places  -- both praising the effort and grumbling about the fact that it isn't political enough, as if the very conceptualization of art as being a Soviet endeavor isn't enough to have you recognize the nature of the enterprise!






Poland under communist regime is often lumped by westerners as being right there (in terms of propaganda, suppression and expression, etc) with the Soviet Union (and East Germany and Czechoslovakia and Bulgaria etc etc). This is of course nonsense. And yet I'll say this: Poles from my generation do know the images now referred to as Soviet art. Nothing about the exhibit is shocking or even surprising to me. Indeed, it becomes rather nostalgic as I study the stuff that in one way or another had been presented to me before. Not in a museum, but in school books, newspapers, and, well, real life.







I canvass the exhibit twice. I don't want to have missed any of it.

Here's one last photo -- of two  women, agrarian women, taking pride in their work. (At least, that is what I think the photo is meant to convey.)





 Yes, a lot is left unsaid here, I know that. I don't want to suggest answers. I'll just take you to the room next door to the Soviet Art exhibition. In rooms dedicated to American art, you'll find pieces from the same period -- early twentieth century. For example, this icon painting, straight from Iowa  -- he, with the pitchfork, she, bringing the foods to the table....






And let's jump to New York now, to the Hopper masterpiece, depicting the American diner. in New York ... a scene not of fulfillment, but of ... what? Disappointment?






Then there is the less known painting, by John Sloan -- depicting working class women,  in this instance, out for a night at an Italian restaurant in New York. It's a joyous scene of women celebrating their newly gained freedom to be out and about on their own, without male permission or presence.






Art offers so much room for commentary! But I'll leave you to you own musings and interpretations. It's time for me to meet up with my daughter and her husband!

I make my way to their home...






... where I am treated so well (a toast! bubbly wine for two, bubbly water for one) and so I linger, linger... until it is time for dinner. The three of us eat at Daisies. It's a current favorite and of course, this is the best part: I can join her world, their world for this one wintry evening.

It's oh so late. Time to head back. I had decided for this trip to spend the night at a hotel. Many reasons for it -- one being that the young couple has a full schedule this weekend and me, I'm thinking leisurely thoughts, at least as far as this day and tomorrow morning are concerned. Rates at their neighborhood place are exceptionally low now and so after dinner, we head straight for the Robey.

(Here's the room: so basic, so well  maintained, so perfect for me...)





We pause for a quick post dinner night cap at the top floor lounge and then call it a day. Oh, but what a day it was!