Valentine's Day is now

The sun comes out, the day sparkles!






I don't care what's underneath that beautiful white blanket! (Hint: it rhymes with nice.) At the moment, that stuff's hidden. We crunch along paths of snow.

When we have a large snowfall (it does not happen very often), everything looks lovely the next day. Each tree looks regal and splendidly bedecked. (Most would agree that the tall pines look most regal and splendid of them all.)






With sunlight come the lovely blue shadows. Blue skies, blue shadows, yellow farmhouse: perfection!






(Morning visit with the cat and her kittens.)






Breakfast. Pink is fitting for this day.






Why? Well, call it Valentine's Day for me!

How so?

Perhaps you remember sweetheart celebrations that I have dragged Ed through in years gone by. They were very nice, very sweet. They involved coaxing him to a card stand, typically conveniently positioned in a chocolate shop where he would buy chocolates, though I would be there walking him through the ritual and of course, we'd share the sweet candies afterwards.

But a few days back, I mentioned to him that someone we knew had just had a massage. I must have seemed wistful because Ed asked -- do you want a massage?

A Valentine's Day gift was born!

I hadn't had one in a dozen years. They're beastly expensive and when I do the calculation, it always seems that the benefit is too short lived to be worth the cost. Still, this winter, I have had my share of sore backs,  wrecked knees and who knows what else. On a February day, a whole body massage seems heavenly.

I pick everything carefully, spending hours on selecting the place, the person, the type of massage and perhaps most importantly -- the date for it. The massage would have to be at a time when the afterglow can stay with me. A stress free day. One when I can take lots of little breaks and remind myself how wonderful I feel (after the massage).

I chose today.  I selected a hot stone massage and no, they don't just take hot rocks and throw them at you! You get your massage and incorporated into it is a working of heated flat stones across your body, allowing them to kneed you before being placed in key spots where their warmth feels especially welcome.

I did not just go for my massage: I prepared for it. I did yoga beforehand. I savored my breakfast, and then I tried hard not to rush to the studio. All morning long I moved with care, with anticipation.

And it was an incredible hour! The sense of physical well being during a massage is so complete that you truly believe every muscle in your body is revitalized and ready to spring back into action.

I wonder if wealthy people who have massages on a regular basis continue to appreciate the wonderfulness of the experience. Possibly it becomes just a thing to check off, like drinking a cup of coffee in the morning. But for me, that hot rock hour was otherworldly!

Happy Valentine's Day to you, too, Ed!


In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop. That is, I appear at her school on time, ready to take her to the farmhouse. But she is in the middle of an art project. She needs the little bits of paper, carefully colored and cut up to be safely tucked into an envelope created by her, or rather by us, because she can't quite get the envelope to emerge out of scant pieces of paper.






Many, many minutes later we head out into the cold. At least I think it's cold.






Today, we are a little in a hurry. Still, you surely can't help but love the utter prettiness of the landscape as you crunch along (to warmer spaces).






A quick play, read, snack...






And then it's time for ballet.

Snowdrop does love going to class, though without question, it is the "story" part of "storybook ballet" that most excites her.






She'll do the dance positions, the steps, the moves.






But it is the reading of the day's story and the dance that follows that really draw out her inner joy.





Happy child, relaxed grandma, beautiful snow scapes, warm farmhouse. What else does one need to make a February day shine?!

 

(Here's why you should not put away your holiday lights after the holidays: their color on a snowy landscape is magical!)

it snows

All night, all day, the snow came down. Were it not for what now lies underneath that new snow cover (a thick blanket of ice), I'd say it was one of our prettier snowfalls. For once, it's not terribly cold and there is no wind.







Honestly, it's the kind of snow that will bring a smile to any snow loving person's face.






But there is that base of ice and so deciding on how to proceed with shoveling calls for some discussion.

An Ocean reader suggested we explore some environmentally friendly snow melting granules. I like that option! I logged onto Amazon first thing this morning and purchased what I thought would be the most environmentally friendly stuff ("Natural Alternative Ice Melt") -- all this before Ed even stirred. I knew I'd get push back from him and I decided that when I ran out of counter arguments (he'll ask for lists of ingredients and then dig up scientific articles discussing their efficacy and potential for harm), I could say -- well, too late: I already ordered some, followed by -- it's way better than salt and we have to do something!

It's a predictable tug-of-war. Ed has always lived in ways that do minimal damage to the environment, but I'd say, with age, he's become even more rooted in his convictions that we are a wasteful species, caring little for the footprint we leave behind. I don't disagree, but I cannot quite reduce my footprint to the levels that he would like. The Ice Melt I bought was the only one I could find that claimed benefits to plant life, at the same time that it would not release unwanted elements into the watershed and ultimately the lakes fed by our springs. Run-off from salted roads and from excessive use of fertilizers has polluted Madison's lakes and we do care deeply about this issue. And of course, even using a product endorsed by the scientific community and a few environmentally focused agencies is not completely without consequence. Ed would rather just wait this freeze out. Me, I've done some slip sliding recently and so I want to do some minimal ice removal in just a couple of crucial spots -- where I get in and out of the car, where we step out of the house. Slabs of ice in both places wont disappear for many weeks. I'd like to give them a nudge.

In the meantime, we continue to walk cautiously. He feeds the cheepers, I feed the cats.







We eat breakfast, enjoying the beauty and serenity of the winter landscape out the window.












Because this snowstorm is so persistent (from yesterday evening until tomorrow morning), schools had to close today. No one wanted another snow day: teachers will have to make up the time in June and kids just came off of an extended stay at home time. Still, it was the right decision. The plows just cannot clear a street when the snow keeps on falling.

Parents once again have had to scramble. In the afternoon, the young parents drop off Sparrow and Snowdrop at the farmhouse and go off to their respective offices. Yo have to wonder what parents are expected to do when a retired Gaga isn't within reach.

(Ed eats an apple, she wants an apple. Ed eats nuts, she wants nuts...)






(And Sparrow is just so delighted with the whole setup.)






Sister and brother, brother and sister...






Don't you think it's time the two of them played together? He's willing!







She's willing, so long as he steers away from the pink.






When Sparrow naps, we read. And then I suggest she make Valentine's Day cards. Snowdrop loves everything about this project.






And of course, there has to be a solid block of time for story-telling.






There's a lot of story in all of us. But for this little girl, the beat of a story is so strong, that a day cannot be whole without its satisfying release.






Evening. I check on the cats again, brush the snow off the pathway, reheat some leftovers for dinner. It's still snowing. It's still very slippery. And very beautiful out there. And even more beautiful here, in the quiet farmhouse, with the still twinkling colorful winter lights.

Monday before the storm

We read that today, Madison took the unprecedented move of salting every street in the city, including in all residential neighborhoods. The thick layer of ice everywhere is not otherwise navigable and we are expecting a snowstorm tonight -- one that will dump a layer of snow on top of the ice. It is not a good combination.

Here, at the farmette, there is little more we can do: I'm glad we toiled with the walkway, chipping away at the ice as it was coming down. The path to the door is mostly free of slippery spots. Everything else is one huge sheet of ice. We've never had anything quite like it. On the upside -- when you know it's icy, you walk with care. Deliberately, slowly. A controlled glide!

This morning, I walked with care to feed the cats.






(animal paw prints, and underneath the light dusting of snow -- ice)






And I walked with care to pick up Sparrow when he arrived for his farmhouse visit.

And then I stayed inside. We stayed inside. It's just below freezing and so nothing is melting. How this will all thaw out is a bit of a mystery to me. But most certainly, the next several weeks will be mostly inside weeks for us. Avoiding treks across ice fields and along icy driveways is surely a priority.

Sparrow joined us for breakfast. He ate, I ate, we ate.











As always, he is one cheerful guy!

Added bonus at play time: I can concentrate on his needs (Snowdrop is at school), which include a dig into some of Snowdrop's toy loot.






Another meal already? Exciting!





"Fun book, gaga!"






Good effort at standing/climbing/scrambling.






And eventually, Sparrow goes home and I bring Snowdrop to the farmhouse, warning her to be very very careful on the walk from car to house.
Gogs, my shoes are rubber! It's like having sticky stuff on them! Still, she is careful.






Apart from a half hour spent on reading a book, she is committed to letting out one, big, complicated story. Indeed, she starts her tale in the car. It's as if it had been percolating in her for a long long time and she couldn't wait to let it out.


















Eventually, she asks for paints. But the story doesn't stop there.






I had ordered a smock. It arrived in mid-painting. Gogs, it's got a castle on it! She puts it on and continues with her story.

She is clearly under the spell of the weekend movie. There are black twists to her painting. I pick up plots of smoke and fire and boats sailing on a blue, swirling sea with crashing waves.






Done with that painting.






But not with the story. Still time for dress-up. For pretend phone calls to mysterious persons.






And when her dad comes to pick her up, she makes me promise that I leave everything just as it is now, so that she can continue tomorrow.


It's snowing now. Big, quiet flakes. We pulled down the garage door some and checked on the water supplies for the animals. Tomorrow, we'll have to dig out. Right back down to the ice layer that stubbornly rests at the base of it all.

the hours of Sunday

Funny how the day shrugs off the hours -- flips them away, one by one, pfft! Gone! No day better illustrates this than a Sunday. The pileup of household chores is significant and since it is Sunday, you work through them systematically and slowly. And before you know it, it's evening.

It's easy to figure out exactly where the time goes: just keep a tally. I did today. And I bragged (or complained, depending on which tone of voice you think I used) about the results to Ed.

It took me one hour and ten minutes to take care of all the animals!
Seriously? Why so long?
Well, this week will have lots of temperamental weather. So I was more meticulous with everything.
Still, one hour?
One hour and ten minutes! Dont forget about the ten minutes!
What did you do?
First, the cats. That was the easy part. But they're so cute and so much less afraid of me! So I stood there and talked to them as they ate their breakfast...






... and watched, as they retreated to one of their favorite spots in the back of the garage.






The ground is super icy, so I tried to chip away a little of the ice bridge that has formed by the front door.
Successfully?
No.

Then, onto the barn.

The cheepers water bowl was completely frozen. Maybe it's not heating properly? Anyway, I had to take that inside and get the dirty ice out and start afresh. That took a while. I put in a full bowl of water and, oh, were they thirsty! I stood there forever watching them drink!
Seems you did a lot of standing and watching...
Not so! Then I took the (captured) mouse to the park. (We finally learned that if you load the trap up with lots of pungent cheeses and nut spreads, they will go inside. We've had a successful catch almost every day this last week.)

(drive to park: February without the sunshine can look pretty severe)






After that, of course, I had the completely disgusting job of cleaning the trap. After which I had to scrub any surface within a mile of where I cleaned the trap.

Ed's mildly impressed.
Why don't you rest a bit?

I cannot. I must proceed with house cleaning.

A break for a pink breakfast.






A check on the cats. Still cute! (How can you resist admiring the mama and her awesome twosome??)






Are we having snow flurries? Yes we are. Arrival of winter storm (the real stuff!) expected tomorrow eve.





An online French maintenance lesson.

Yoga. I went with the tougher one. It was too tough, but I plowed through it!

It is now 4 p.m. Nearly evening.

Later:

It is, of course, the evening with the young family at the farmhouse and so I fuss with supper. Because they're worth it.
 






Snowdrop had seen a movie this weekend ("Moana"). It was quite a leap for her: fire and fury are not exactly within the little one's comfort zone. But now, having barrelled through it, she feels the thrill of having that popular movie under her belt. She can talk of nothing else tonight!






Dinner. Beautiful meal always, but especially when you can gather a bit of family around you.






Afterwards, we all slow down. Finish up, put away, sit back. The hours of a Sunday evening are as sleepy as a child after a bedtime story.  No need to tally the hours anymore. Pop some corn, watch a movie, read a book. And of course, write. With eyes only half open.

it is, after all, still February

On days off -- and today is such a day for me: nothing is imperative, no schedule must be followed -- you notice the weather even more than on days when Things Must Be Accomplished. Because thermometer readings, wind velocity, and precipitation tallies will set the amount of time you'll want to spend outside.

In my morning animal feeding rounds, I am happy to take in the sunshine.







But sunshine alone is not enough to keep me outside for long. It's cold and the icy ground make walking difficult. When Ed asks over breakfast if we should go somewhere for a hike, I can't think of a place that would be free of thick ice.






The city, sure, but we don't really think of Madison as a great hiking venue. We look for nature's calm. The city -- we reserve that for different necessities and amusements, not for long walks.

And so we stay home.






We are not a restless pair (at least in the short term). A day at home is a sweet treat for me. I like the quiet. Still, I wish it were by choice, rather than by the dictates of a cold and icy winter day. Honestly, I do think that everyone is getting tired of February. Poor, short month: it's not short enough!

The cheepers are restless. How long does this lock-up have to continue?? -- they seem to ask. We're not getting any eggs from them. The good winter layer, Cupcake, is gone. (She was such a good layer that she even left us an egg after she had been already decapitated by the hawk. No, of course we didn't eat it!)

The cats -- well, I had a heart sinking moment with them today: I went out to feed them just a little later than usual and all three were gone. I ran up to report the calamity to a sleeping Ed. He shook his head: don't worry. They'll be back.
Back??? The little kittens wouldn't have gone anywhere! They rely on the food here! And everything in the garage is upside down! (Well, not everything, but a few things are indeed disheveled. I needed to stir up Ed's emotions -- he was being far too calm.) Someone must have gone after them!
The cars will be back. We don't really have predators that would want them. Their greatest enemy here is the car speeding on a rural road.
But they're gone!
I'm going back to sleep.

As I fix breakfast, I keep looking out at the empty feeding station in the garage. No movement. The cat food is freezing to a solid mass. I go out again. This time, I let out a good and loud shout: "STOP SIGN!!"

And lo, she emerges. With Jacket. From underneath one of the cars. The two trot over to the garage and wait for me to stop fussing with their food.






I return upstairs: two are back! But Dance, the littlest one is definitely missing.
Relax. She'll be back. Cats like to explore.
But it's so cold!

In the end, he is correct. A few minutes later, I see Dance running to the garage. All three, accounted for!






Were they adventuring, despite the deep freeze? Could it be that they are fed up with February as well? The restrictions this month has placed on all of us have been tediously harsh. Both Ed and I like winter, so long as we can find a way to enjoy its unique outdoor prettiness. Right now, it's a chore to navigate from one spot to the next.

And so here we are, in the farmhouse, ignoring the outdoors, loving the comfort of warmth, of good reading material. Of streaming yoga videos, of lentuils simmering on the stove, of all the wonderful things that you and I can find in our own quiet corners. And there's always the hope that the last weeks of winter will be radiantly beautiful and more hospitable to outdoor adventures.