Saturday

During the kids' school vacation, I've not had them here, at the farmhouse in the afternoons. Oh, I've seen them often enough -- on or around the important holidays, or when their cousin was visiting, and too, for no reason at all. Just because.

Today was a "just because" day. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that it was a good hair day. Immediately after breakfast (appreciate the colors!!)...





... I set to giving Ed a haircut/beard trim. For once, he asked me for it, possibly because his eyebrows had grown so long and bushy, that they were obstructing his field of vision.

And soon after, I drove over to the young family's home. A visit with the grandkids there is in order. Why today? Well, there is the issue of hair again: Sparrow is scheduled to go with his dad to the barber for his very first haircut. So there is the before photo (what, you cant see that his hair's two inches long in the back??) ...






... and of course an "after" picture: here's the little guy looking mighty grown up with his big boy cut!






As for Snowdrop -- I could say there is a need for a before and after sequence as well, only I wont get to the "after" photo until tomorrow. Today is the last time we see her as a four year old!





Tomorrow, she will turn that wonderful age of five, when you're old enough to understand a few of life's complexities, but young enough to believe that happiness is absolutely within reach, every single minute of your day, so long as you've got your family nearby, a good book on your lap, a favorite toy still there, unbroken, waiting for you, and a mandarin orange, or some other food du jour on your plate. (If you're lucky, you'll carry that belief in happiness for a long long long time! Perhaps into your senior years!)






So, everyone's looking spiffy right now. Time to return to a few of my resolves. Very late in the afternoon, Ed and I head out for a walk. To the usual county park next to us. Just before sunset. Because it's quite beautiful then.
























And as long as we're out, we may as well grab a bite to eat at the Great Dane Pub, just a few miles up the road from us. We do our usual: sit at the bar, read the newspaper (Ed) or a book (me). A perfect date, on a beautiful good hair day.

Ocean 16 plus a day

This morning I tell Ed that I slept really well! Nothing like a long hike to put you into deep sleep at night.
You had a nightmare -- he responds.
I did? I don't remember.
You thanked me for waking you.
I must have "slept" through that whole episode as well!

I wish we hiked energetically every day, but I know that this is not realistic. Eking out a 25 minute walk is challenging enough! Fact is, I would like to do four things every day: hike, review a modest amount of French, do wholesome yoga stretches, and write (I'll count Ocean for this). Reality is that I only seem to be able to guarantee the latter -- writing. The others -- well, I'm trying.

But I never skip posting on Ocean.

Which brings me to another point: yesterday, Ocean turned a sweet 16. Meaning, I began writing here when I was just fifty years old, sixteen years ago. From January 2nd, 2004, every day. In the early years I would skip just a couple of days each year, only because sometimes I could not, for the life of me, find an internet connection. But in recent years, I've been here, even though sometimes I have to admit, with eyes closed (like when I'm supposedly thanking Ed for waking me from a nightmare), typing away and trying hard to edit, even as I am too tired to look back and reread the simplest text.

Every year I note this January anniversary, but yesterday I just plain forgot. Honestly, my head is too full of other stuff right now. There is the delightful mind clutter: we have a bunch of family celebrations coming up and they all require some advance thinking and prep work. But mostly there is the harder stuff to keep straight -- that having to do with my mom's situation.

She is still at the Rehab Center, but they have told me that she has stalled. It's time for her to move. Onwards and upwards! But of course, she has, right now, no place to go. We're working on it, but it will take time.

So these are my challenges: get her approved, find a place, get her accepted, move her in, and in the meantime -- close up and empty out her apartment without knowing really what she'll need or where she will be in a month or two. The head spins!

What I find interesting is that my role is huge, and my time commitment to my mom right now -- it's enormous. And yet, it's not huge at all, in that were I not here, the cogs of the wheel would move everything forward, regardless. No one would throw her out on the pavement or stick her in a room with ten others, all smokers, with a history of violence. They would transfer her to a room in a facility where people would care for her. What I do is merely grease the wheels so they move smoothly. I ask questions, making sure that everyone understands what's going on. That my mom understands what's going on. I am the quality inspector. But honestly, thus far, the services provided for the aged in Madison have been superb. The people know what they are doing. My mom (who has not a penny to her name) is treated with dignity and compassion. It's impressive how much time they have spent on her case! For all those who complain about bloated government services -- wait until your old cranky great uncle, or bummed out grandmother, or you yourself need care. You may be thanking your lucky stars yet for all those services!

Oh, I do like this proud state, with its single word motto -- Forward! (see it here, on the quarter issued in 2004, commemorating Wisconsin.)

Except that the Wisconsin winters are too long.

But today is another one of those days when it seems a tad warmer than it should be, given that it's January.

After breakfast (enjoy the flowers! I have little else to offer you by way of color!)...





... I drive by the big lake on my way to my mom's apartment and notice that the water is not frozen at all. We are back in the gloom of a gray day. I don't bother taking out my camera.

The rest of my Friday is pretty much devoted to mom stuff. She has her big evaluation today -- a super important moment in her progression toward the next level of care. I'm there to talk to the staff and the person from the state agency who does the evaluation.

When I come home, after a distracted and therefore abbreviated Friday grocery shopping, I am pretty much spent. Meaning I don't want to go for a walk, I don't want to review my French, I don't want to do yoga stretches.

I do pick up my laptop, and I write.



What? No photos again??

Okay: can I interest you of a picture of our two little kitties on the porch? One has a name -- Calico, for obvious reasons. She is gray, brown and white - with true markings of a Calico. Did you know that such markings can only be had by a female? Thus we know she is a girl. The other kitten -- he looks so much like the other nameless teenagers in the shed! We will never be able to tell them apart!

winter softness

It helps to move calmly through the day when the day is like this one: not biting at all, but sunny and pleasantly mild. True, were this to be our new winter normal, we should worry. But, this lull in winter weather is not unusual. And we're certain the cold will return. For now,it is so very sweet to wake up to temperatures that are just above freezing.

We have a gentle day.

A late breakfast...





And a bit of work on some accounting stuff and mom stuff and then we break out! Off for a bigger walk in a bigger space: we drive to Indian Lake, where the trails crisscross a forest, touch a lake and meander past prairie grasses.

It's late afternoon and so the light moves from being sweet to being exquisite!











Are you a forest person? Or a meadow lark? And does it change for you in the winter?

I've been loving the hush of a forest this season. Indian Lake County Park doesn't have many pines or firs, but still, the quiet is profound, especially on a weekday, after a holiday.






The lake itself is not frozen. This is unusual for January: whatever layer of ice was here in November is almost gone.






(an eagle? an eagle!)






Oh, but the views, though not grand or spectacular, are in fact serenely beautiful.





Our hike is longer than we'd planned so that by the time we drive home, the sun has long vanished. No matter. For once I am not in a rush. That demands of life resume tomorrow. Today, we move slowly, with a winter calm that you wish would stay within you all season long.

the New Year

Don't you just love the feel of 2020? As a number, I mean. It's just so perfectly sleek and rounded. I'm happy to be waking up to its prettiness. It's a shame that I don't really write checks these days. I'd be tickled each time I wrote in that dignified yet playful 2020 on the date line.

This year, I actually greeted the New Year at midnight. Ed and I had watched the ball drop on Times Square (that was at 11 pm our time) and  we wished each other a happy new year and I went to bed, but with a book and for some reason I stayed awake, way past midnight!

Nothing would happen if I didn't get up to feed the cats with dawn each day. They would survive. But, they all congregate on the porch and they stare into the house and wait for any sign of movement from within. And so I do get up and it is in fact a very pretty sunrise! The light snow is still with us and the morning sun always given it the most beautiful and sparkly pinkish hues!







Good morning, everyone! Good morning sleeping gardens! Happy New Year to us all!






Breakfast is late because I had the idea that I should go back and get some more sleep. It was a good idea even though it didn't quite work.






There is some tidying and straightening that should be done. A Christmas tree to take down. Kids toys to store or put in a proper place. Mom stuff, house stuff -- you know how these things can fill your day. But not so much that we can't scoot out for a walk in our local park!






The lake looks like the piece of meat you take out from the freezer in the hope of defrosting it for dinner that night: partially thawed. No fisher-people out in little huts today.

Just geese.






We've walked these paths a million times and yet each time on them is special. I tell Ed -- I can deal with this type of winter: gentle, with wisps of sunlight!






Beautiful wisps of sunlight and spectacular winter sunsets.






In the evening, the young family is here for a champagne dinner of take out! That's right -- Chinese, from a place that specializes in dim sum. And 185 other dishes.






(shrimp dim sum! yum!)






("Can we play now??")






So ends the first day of a new decade. Phew! Nothing messed up just yet, nothing broken, nothing neglected. Lots of pretty moments, plenty of smiles. I'd say that's one sweet beginning to a new year.

New Year's Eve 2019

Let's take stock together, okay? Looking back, was it a basically good decade for you? Can you think back to all that went well?

For me, just being here today, knowing that my young families are thriving, having Ed by my side badgering me about the details of long term care, all this while the furnace hums, with delicious leftovers in the fridge, and waking up to a delicate snowfall  -- oh the list of good things is so long! -- leaves me feeling so very happy, and so very fortunate.

So what do we do in the next year? What resolves are good to put forth? Well, at the very least, people need to see that smile. From you, from me. If nothing else, we should be generous with handing it out. Cheap and easy. So why so often do we hold back?

And what else is on my list for the new year? Well, this past year, I stayed within my pensioner's budget, so that's good. I've eaten plenty of fruits, grains and veggies. All fine. I should move even more and I would love to write more, and read more, and be calmer than calm.

Isn't it wonderful to have the luxury of worrying about such small items in the scheme of things? I am very much aware of my good twist of fate.

And what would I like to see in the new year? For me, that's easy: more of the same I hope. Really, more of the same.


I thought about all this as I lingered over an afternoon cup of coffee at a coffee shop near my daughter's home.

The day had gone well: we had had snow and it is cold outside, but none of this was excessive -- not the cold nor snow. It's a pretty winter landscape!











Breakfast, late, even as the guy is barely awake...






Then I'm off to my mom's apartment and to the Rehab Center, where I go over with her steps that we will be taking in the weeks ahead. For the first time, she does not appear to be listless and indifferent (meaning hostile) to it. She listens and offers some input. All that is very very good.

And now the pause for coffee, with sunshine...






... and a change of venue: I go to my daughter's home to help them take down the tree and tidy up their place in preparation for that fresh start we all love to have on January 1st.

But hey, there is snow! While Sparrow naps, Snowdrop and her mom build a snowman. There isn't that much snow and what's there is powdery. Nonetheless, they are bravely moving forward with it.











... while the dad practices mixing cocktails for their evening celebrations. (The lune en miel from Ladurée is just exquisite!)






The wee snowman's done!






Sparrow is up!






Siblings, watching a Sesame Street clip together...






We do a lot of "cheers!"  and "happy new year's"...





... and then I return home to fix a New Year's Eve supper for Ed and me. With Prosecco. You don't need champagne to say "cheers" and "happy new year" and "I love you."


The moon shines brightly here, at the farmette. Does it for you as well? I hope so.





Happy, happy New Year! With love.

the last holiday gathering

Typically, by December 30th, Christmas feels like last year's holiday. Not forgotten, but really distant. Whatever tree I have up has grown stiff and brittle from its long indoor life. Time to take it down. My attention shifts toward the new year.

But this year, all this has changed. Because the kids came up from Chicago to be with me for the weekend following the 25th, Christmas has a had quite the long run at the farmhouse! Only this evening, when all is very quiet here, do I feel that the holiday is towards its end.

And it was a remarkable, beautiful holiday!

I came to it tired and and not a little frustrated. Oh, I had had my nights of sleep, but still, the days dragged me down. For me, November had been brutal (the weather, Ed's prolonged absence) and I expected to coast through December. Well, that didn't happen. My mom's stroke completely changed my routines. There were still the grandkids to watch, there were holiday preparations, but mainly, there was a lot of mom stuff to deal with.

But here's a miraculous thing: this weekend, when my daughters and their families came together at the farmhouse, no one was sick. No kid had even the sniffles. This in itself was fabulous! No low grade fevers, no ear infections, no passing around nasty bugs. With small kids in our midst, that is indeed a rare event in this season!

And here's another sweet detail: for decades, when the kids were little, I made a big fuss for three meals in a row: I cooked and baked for all of Christmas Eve dinner, Christmas breakfast and Christmas dinner. And I decided to do that again this weekend: three meals in a row for all of us. The goal was to make it special but also to spread the prep throughout the day so that I would not disappear into the kitchen for hours on end and be removed from the fun of playing with everyone. Somehow, it worked well. All meals were ready within fifteen minutes of the predicted hour and I felt I could weave in and out of child fun and kitchen duties.

Still, today, we all voted for going out for our last meal together. There is magic in that as well and yes, this day, all of it, was liberally sprinkled with magic.


Breakfast. In two parts: the first is just me and the little girl, sharing a mango.






I then bring up Snowdrop's balance bike. Want to try it? Yes! Adjust the seat and we're off!






Breakfast part two: with my two girls.






Let's ride you over to the kitchen sink for a bath now!






Then follows some serious cooking for Primrose and me! But only pretend.






With a birthday cake!






And macarons.






We meet up on the Capitol Square for an early lunch at Graze (the casual place that's a companion to the posh L'Etoile).






You'd think these two hadn't seen each other in years! The joy is that great!










Graze is completely empty when we arrive and it remains on the empty side the entire time we're there. Not many people come in for a festive brunch on a Monday. Downtown Madison feels a bit empty -- closed down in anticipation of another holiday coming up tomorrow. But all this throws us a nice benefit: first of all, we get a terrific table with a view...






And, too, no one minds that the kids are a little more active. They are all well trained to sit quietly when in a restaurant, but today we bend the rules a little. And this makes for a very happy bunch of young ones.











"Are you taking apicture of the two sisters? Can I be in it?"






"I'm just happy to play with my napkin..."






When they stand on an air vent, their skirts lift, as if walking in a city over a subway vent.





And so ends my holiday. I'd say it ranked up there among the finest.

I came home, drank a tall cup of coffee and promptly fell asleep on the orange small cuch. Tired and happy, all at the same time.