Monday - 297th

We are definitely stuck in a weather rut: misty skies call for ice crystals on tree branches. Gray clouds give the impression of early dusk all day long. 

On the upside, there is a bit of magic outside. I mean, the trees!

Ed had spent half the night fixing our forty year old (maybe even older) dryer because my daughter's dryer was completely out and they had boatloads of wet kid clothes that would benefit from a spin in our old machine. (Our old machine isn't exactly broken, but it could use adjustments. Such were made somewhere between 3 and 4 in the morning.) For this reason, I did not wake him for an early breakfast with me.

And it is early. The kids are coming and the ship must sail forth smoothly! 

 

 

 

 

 

It's the first day of school in the new year for Snowdrop and she has a new schedule -- one that appears to include more teacher time, though there are still additional online assignments that must be done as well. The teacher class time is actually quite okay today. 

The online assignment though is mind-numbingly boring, but of course, much of school work is boring. Still, in a classroom, there is some satisfaction in completing work sheets handed out by a class monitor. There is no satisfaction from watching the word "this" jump around a tablet screen, supposedly twisting and kicking its way into a child's consciousness. I think we're supposed to record something -- the little girl tells me. Are you? I don't think so. I think you're good. Click the check mark. 

I mean, I wasn't going to go back and read the instructions again. I just wasn't.

In between the lessons, the kids play and, too, we dig into the book stack, bringing out some favorites about mysterious happenings in the course of a school snow day, and adding some new ones for Sparrow to get him unhooked from old favorites that he just wants too many times each day.

We could have played outside -- Snowdrop asked if we would have time for that -- but the school day seemed long and the book reading took us well into the afternoon and so we put it off for a sunnier day (with the hope that we will indeed have a sunnier day before I have to say good bye to the kids).

 

 

 

Toward evening, Ed and I went skiing. I can't say it was my favorite run. Oh, it was pretty! 

 

 

Indeed, very pretty!

But getting dark. And cold. Still, we do it. You cannot let down your guard in the winter months. So we ski. One loop in our county park and we're done. 

At home we have Monday leftovers. Every week should have at least one easy dinner day. For me, it's always Monday. An easy slide into the new week. I hope it's a good week. For all of us.

Sunday - 296th

 When I started counting the days of isolation back on March 14th (day 1), I had no idea how long it would last. That's a good thing! 296 and counting would not have felt especially happy. So maybe you shouldn't tell me that another X days will be added to my current tally!

It's a quiet day at the farmhouse. Still pretty outside, with frosted tree branches and restless cheepers in the barn.

 

But the skies remain gray. Come on, weather gods! Do us a favor and blow the dense cloud cover away for a while. Thank you, in advance.

Breakfast with the guy on his post-beard trim day.

I know we should be out skiing, but I'm hesitant. Sundays are busier days out on the trails and people don't always wear masks. I don't know why. So we pass on our sprint in the county park and go out for a short walk in the new development instead. It's a good compromise: after all, I have a cake to bake! 

Snowdrop has requested a lemon chocolate cake for her birthday -- not a conventional combination. The one I find online allows me to bake it today and indeed, the recipe author encourages us bakers to freeze it overnight for easier trimming and frosting. In all my years of baking and pastry making, I have never ever baked and frozen a special occasion cake ahead of the event. I have very old fashioned ideas about foods being... fresh and honest! Still, I need the cake for Tuesday and these particular instructions couldn't be clearer: "I recommend you freeze the cakes overnight."  Into the freezer go the three layers!

And I wrap presents. The next few days are going to be pretty tight, schedule wise. Pile it on for this day, when the going is easy.

 

Someone asked me -- what will you do when the kids stop coming next week? What projects do you have lined up for yourself?

Well now, I was a total failure project-wise when the kids stopped coming here at the end of August. I launched nothing new. [Did you? Are you a lockdown super hero? Are you even more creative, energetic and productive now that you have more time and fewer parties, contacts and travels in your schedule? I read about people like that! But more frequently, I read about people like me: half-hearted tidying, a few more books on the table next to me, an extra meal fixed and delivered to my daughter, and boom, another day passes .] So how will my winter months look? 

I'll let you know.

In the meantime, I have a Sunday dinner to prepare. Same old seafood pasta. Same beautiful Sunday routines, about to be disrupted, but still here for today, still shining brightly for us as the young family comes over.

Small photos. I didn't take many and the ones I took deserve a small size. Sometimes the mind strays and the camera is sluggish.

Even as the warmth is always, always there.

Ocean 17

 Let's play some number games. If you take the number 17, multiply it by 4, you come up with 68. In the year 2021, I will turn 68. That means that I have been writing here on Ocean for one fourth of my life, because today, Ocean is 17 years old.

One fourth of my life, writing daily posts? Insane! (Some have said as much.) Why set yourself the goal of finding something fresh to write every day, with no time off for vacation or to defog the brain a little? Why stay up late to finish a post? Even on dead tired days?

The truth is, I haven't spent much time thinking about the whys. Most people who like to write do write every day in some fashion. Asking them why they write is like asking a jogger why she runs or a gardener why she plants seeds each spring. 

Many believe that a blog is a dated artifact. A product of the early years of postings and sharing. Everyone has moved on to Instagram and Twitter. Even the word blog feels lumpy and tired (I rarely use it! I prefer Ocean!) But I have found no better way to write for others. Ocean maintains a nicely balanced, I think, combination of words and photographic illustrations. And though it surely isn't my most serious writing, it is, nonetheless, a serious attempt at consistent, audience driven writing. 

And to repeat what I have said in the past, even in these days of questioning where truth lies in the reality that we depict for ourselves, let me assure you that I tell no lies here. I skip over a lot, I avoid politics, I do not spill family secrets, but what makes it into an Ocean post is as real as the Montana Forest candle that is burning next to me as I write this.

One fourth of an old person's life. That does seem a long time! Like the Energizer bunny pounding away at the little drum, with no end in sight.

Another cold day with no sunshine to warm you up outside. The cheepers have been hiding in the barn for weeks now, but today they decided to throw a glance at the greater world out there.

 

It was just a glance. Back inside they all went, huddling in some corner of the barn for the rest of the day.

Breakfast. I think Ed needs a beard trim.

 

I shave his face immediately after.

In the late morning, my daughter comes with the two grandkids for her Saturday visit at the farmhouse. It gives her a little time to sit and read, without being too far from a child's demand for a story or a cuddle. For the kids -- it's a break from the pandemic never ending routine of staying home. For me, it's a sad reminder that our time together is nearly at an end yet again. But this isn't the time to think about that. The kids pounce on the books I usually leave out to tempt one or the other...

And after lunch, I suggest snow play for Snowdrop. It's a rare chance for us to spend a longer period of time outside while her brother stays indoors with his mommy. Sparrow never has a great time navigating the winter world of slippery surfaces and snow drifts. Snow pants only add to his misery. Pretty quickly he wants to be either held or taken indoors. So today, I push Snowdrop to consider the outdoors despite the absence of an inviting sun shine. And she agrees.

For the little girl, a snow covered field is just another venue for her extensive fantasy world. I'm a sidekick to her stories, a not too relevant one at that, though she always has roles for me to play with ample instructions on what fits into her story line and what is just plain wrong. Most of the time, I let her take the lead. Sometimes I tease her with being obstinate or difficult. But today, I go along.

These days she starts off with an announcement that the Magic Meadow of Snow is open for business.

And then it's one long romp through the snow drifts, in the front yard and out back.

In, under, and around the great big pine trees.

Snowdrop can go on like this for a long long time. I'm the one that eventually gets cold and in some fashion, we bring our story world to a close. 

 

 

 

Will I get another chance to play with her outdoors this winter? I don't know.

 

In the late afternoon, Ed and I ski again. It's growing colder, but we don't mind. And maybe, just maybe -- well, you know how the song goes -- the sun will come out, tomorrow.

 

the New Year

Welcome! Much anticipated, appreciated, beloved even -- the new year.

We greeted it at midnight. This is late for me (if not for Ed), but in return, I promised myself a later wake up hour. That was not to be. Ed had allowed Dance a new year's night at the farmhouse. She came up to our bedroom just as the night's darkness began to recede. Seeing movement underneath our quilt (we do wiggle, after all), she jumped up and took to the task of chasing all the "mice" she was sure were frolicking under the bed covers. A foot moves, Dance pounces. Again and again. After a half hour of this, Ed took her back outside, but by this time, we were wide awake.

It is true that those who rise early are often amply rewarded. Here's our predawn view from the bathroom window:

You could say, therefore, that we began the new year with animals in our midst.

(There is a lot of moisture in the air. It feels chilly, but on the other hand it makes for a lovely landscape. All the twigs, crab apples and pine needles are covered with a sparkling thin layer of ice crystals.)

Breakfast. This is who we are on January 1st, 2021:

I light a new candle called Montana Forest and indeed, I get an occasional delicate whiff of spruce, pine and cypress, with a base of moss and cedarwood.

And now I drive to my daughter's house to help her with taking down the Christmas tree and with readying the house for the new year. The kids help as well...

(Snowdrop has set up an assembly line, whereby her brother takes off the ornament and hands it to her. She hands it to me, I wrap it up and put it away. hmmm...)

Well, they help until I bring out the vacuum cleaner. Watch them scamper at the sound of the sucking monster!

I'm back home now. There is still time for a quick ski run with Ed!

 

(Deer, everywhere)

We finish just as the snow begins to fall once more.

The kids and their parents are with us again, this time for a New Year's Day dinner. 

(Montana Forest...)

Turn on Portal: happy New Year, beloved Chicago young family!!!

 

(Messing with Ed...)

(Shrimp taco dinner: Ed's in charge of the corn tortillas.)

I heard from friends far and wide today and I have lingering messages in my head and images of many smiles, of hopes for spring gardens and blossoming lives -- all lovely stuff, from good people leading good lives despite it all. 

[Pause here for a totally absorbing, feel good movie, with popcorn. Fighting With My Family. About Professional Wrestling. I had never known this theatrical wrestling even existed. 2021 starts off with me learning something new. How cool is that!]

I hope you have plenty of reasons to smile in this fresh new year! Big grin, gentle upturn of a mouth, loud and happy, quiet and appreciative. If you have it in you -- pass it on to a friend or a stranger. 

With love.

New Year's Eve

 Come on, admit it -- did you ever really love New Year's Eve? Crazy parties when you were young, dragged out evenings when your eyes say "sleep" and your head says "stay up!" when you're older. Did you like saying good bye to a good year? Didn't you worry just a little that some of the goodness will slip away? I mean, was there a promise that a new year would be better? For so many of us, keeping things basically the same was a worthy goal. Resolve not to change everything, to move stuff around, but to keep things stable and peaceful!

[Today, Snowdrop, who will turn six next week, said -- I don't want to be six. I like being five! I hear you, little one! I hear you.]

But that was all in the past. This year, most anyone I know looks back on 2020 as the worst year ever and hopes for anything but a continuation of the same.

And of course, I do too. I want the pandemic to wither and wane and be gone, or at least be done with its devastating destruction. I want the chaos on the political arena to be done forever! I want a healthy, peaceful new year for us all, with lots of family and friends in the mix. Hugs easily given, children cuddled, visits scheduled. In other words, I want you and me to live with hope and newfound wisdom and love.

But I do not discard all that happened in 2020 and neither should you. My list of happy moments will be different from yours, but most of us (not all, but most) will have had at least a few reasons to smile as we sift and sort through all that has happened in the past year. 

Still, New Year's Eve is a little melancholy -- this year, last year, every year -- don't you think? I mean, I'll probably crack some bubbly tonight and make Ed take a sip, but giddy playfulness? Not on the cusp of a flip of a calendar page. 

[Ed tells me the same thing I told Snowdrop: it is just a flip of a calendar page. Nothing more than that.]

We were promised a sunny day, but I saw not a wisp of sunlight. It's as if 2020 wants to have the final word: there shall be no glorious sunshine on the last day of my watch! Still, everyone's mood is upbeat. We dare hope for a happy new year for us all!

Breakfast...

And the kids. They come bursting with play energy.

But they are also good for a snuggle. In this one month, Snowdrop has loved being held again, to grow limp against my shoulder as I rock and walk her. Something like this:

And when we sit down on our beloved orange couch together, I can't help but ask Ed for a photo. Because soon this couch will be empty again.

Kid games: 

Pretend eating...

Pretend hair styling...

 

Drawing...

 

Painting.

 

Like any kid, in any home. Except, no two kids play in an identical fashion. Perhaps what we love so much about little ones is that they always put their very own spin on whatever is presented to them.

 

In the afternoon I take these two home. I have a dinner to prepare and, too, Ed is itching for a quick ski run. I fit it all in. 

(A deer, chatting up one of the cats...)

 

 

 

The young family is with us for the final meal of 2020. And it is wonderful to see the kids and their parents once more, because really, each encounter now is precious. And we know it. 

We cannot have the youngest family with us, but there is Portal! We get to connect with Primrose and her mom and dad, and that's beyond grand.

And here's a thought: I do think that there is some good that's come of this weird schedule for parents who are able to work from home (but who are also struggling with keeping their kids focused on school, even as school is nothing more than a screen shot on a little tablet): the kids have gotten more time with their parents. And this, I think, has buffered all the strangeness that has been thrust upon them this year. I see Snowdrop, Sparrow and Primrose all adoring their moms and dads in new ways, as if they had new insights into the people that are their parents. Lots of time under the same roof may have been stressful, but it hasn't been all bad.

So, bubble away 2020. And let's toast the new year. May it be really really happy for you! A lot of it is beyond our control, but not all of it: we can all do our bit to make this as good as it can be. You and me. All of us.

With love and hope.