Wednesday - 299th

And how does your heart feel today? There is so much horrible stuff going on right now in the greater world out there beyond the farmette lands, that it feels unreal that I should think, feel, and write about my life as a grandmother of three and soon to be four magnificent grandchildren. But I will do it anyway because this is where the good stuff happens. It's where joy and beauty reign.

Even though, I have to admit it, it's a tough day for Gogs. After five weeks of intense time with Snowdrop and Sparrow, where they have spent a significant part of every day here at the farmhouse, we have to now cut off those visits -- all those hugs, snuggles, games, meals -- all of that comes to an abrupt end. The sitters, who have been waiting patiently in the wings, have been promised a return to childcare duties starting tomorrow. And they are magnificent at their job and they are needed, because the young couple cannot maintain total isolation 100% of the time, especially if Snowdrop returns to in-person learning in a few weeks. 

Thus today is my last day with the kids for, well, let's not speculate on how long. Let's hope for not terribly long. Because, well, because the farmette is waiting for them, already feeling the pain of the emptiness that comes with their absence.

We wake up early to a foggy day. 

 

 

More prettiness out there! (But I do miss the sunshine.)

Half the cheepers -- the younger lot -- decide to finally venture out and test the winter waters. Or rather snow. Which they hate. Their claws are not clad in warm footwear. 

The older girls, wiser by many years, stay in the barn.

Breakfast. I give Ed a break. No photo. He'll be my one human contact for a long time. May as well give him peace and quiet during today's morning meal.

And then the kids come over. It's hard not to think, and write, in terms of lasts. But it is a last. For a while. 

Snowdrop knows that change is imminent. Her play is different today (and therefore so is his). She alternates between boisterousness, engaging Ed in a balloon game (with many rules!)...

And later, in a dress up talent show, with Sparrow, who is shy about it, but loses his timidity entirely when she coaxes him into laughter.

 

 

Then, in other moments, she just wants to snuggle and read passages of December's favorite books and explain to me the virtues of having a Barbie with purple hair...

 

 

Too, we settle in to draw a little, and definitely (at the request of both kids actually) watch a couple of episodes of Olivia (each one is only ten minutes long). You wouldn't guess it by looking at this photo of the captive audience, but Olivia is pretty funny.

 

Toward the end, I tell her that she should consider taking any toy that she may want to have at home. She pauses and thinks about the implications of it. I reassure her that we've done this before, that it will be fine. She accepts it, stopping only to write on the frost of the screen porch door as we leave. (Mine is the I love you. Hers is the rest, Sparrow works hard on adding an S, for Sparrow.)

How I do love my grandchildren! And yes, I know I am the lucky Gogs. I had them in my home for five weeks. I know that. It makes for an abrupt end, but I'll never forget how fortunate I was to be handed this month of Snowdrop and Sparrow (and not too infrequently -- their parents). Not being able to spend regular old hangout time with my Chicago younger daughter and her family is that more bitter side to the sweetness of this complicated month.

 

In the evening Ed and I ski. It's therapeutic. With so much going on, with the sudden end to an extraordinarily busy period in my life, I need to glide, to take in the winter loveliness, to feel at one with the world out there.

 

 

And I do.

Our evening friends -- the only friends we see regularly these days:

And home again. 

 

 

I try not to look at all the things that remind me of the presence of kids here (everything!). I reheat leftovers and here's a novel thing: I take out a bag of frozen veggies and throw it into the mix. I decided to work through the bags of frozen produce I purchased in early March, unsure then about the future of our food supply, about the virus, about safe grocery shopping. A sign of hope: use up the freezer stuff. We wont be needing it. (Don't prove me wrong!)

I finish supper with Primrose in Chicago. A child's voice. Such a welcome thing!

 

And Snowdrop calls. Not because she needs to connect so soon, but because she has learned to use her mom's phone surreptitiously and to click on my number.

Evening quiet. We're used to that. It's the daytime quiet that will feel way off..

Tuesday - 298th

A memorable day!

... For the wake-up to lovely sunshine! Just one day of blue skies (the clouds are slated to return tomorrow), but oh, are we thankful for it!

 

(just before sunrise)

 

 

 

 

 

... Memorable, too, for the wake-up to no hot water. And no heat. And no gas in the stove. How could this be?! I have a million things to do! It's not just any day, it's Snowdrop's birthday. She is six and there should be friends and a party but of course, there is none of that. There is home and there is the farmhouse and right now the farmhouse is very cold..

I rouse Ed. 

The gas is somehow stuck. Not flowing into the house. We call Madison Gas and Electric

They take a long while to come and that's a good thing, because before they do, Ed locates the problem: an iced-over pressure regulator on the gas line. Phew! A close call. He de-ices it and we're back in business!

A very rushed breakfast... 

 

 

... and then the kids arrive. You'll see a lot of Snowdrop here today. A party of photos of the girl who deserves a party! (And her little brother who just wants to be with her every minute of the day.)

(admiring mermaid banner)

(this one: )

(school: ten minute phonics lesson)

(letting me take her 6-year old portrait)

School, play, read, play - your typical mash-up of activities on this unusual day.

The birthday girl is in great spirits and that's such a good thing! Of course, she is often in great spirits. Snowdrop has a wide emotional range, but her default setting surely is exuberance!

Watching her grow up is indeed grand. Each and every child on this planet has a unique gift. Or two, or more. Whatever the little girl's gifts may be in adulthood, right now, without a doubt, I'd say she is a master story teller. As it's her special day, I can share something from her encyclopedic storehouse of stories. It's from yesterday actually. She was discussing things mathematical with her other grandmother and in being told she can make up a story math problem, you know, with the usual subtractions and additions, Snowdrop enthusiastically offers one of her own creation: Here it is:

LUCY AND JACK’S SNOW DAY

 

Lucy and Jack are waking up. Lucy opens her window and yawns and then she says "Look at that snow! It's a snow day, Jack." she says. Jack wakes up. "What, Lucy?" he says.  "Jack, it's a snow day!" said Lucy. "Lucy, don't get too excited," said Jack. "First we have to get ready." "Yeah and wake up Mom and Dad."

she said. "Okay," said Jack. "We'll wake up Mom and Dad first." "Well, what are you waiting for?

Let's wake up Mom and Dad." she said.

 

"Shhh!" said Lucy.

"Let's jump on their bed." said Jack.

First Mom woke up. "Aah,kids... why are you jumping on my bed?It's only 7:30 in the morning."

"Mom," said Lucy, "look out your window. It's a snow day."

Then Dad woke up. He said "No peanut butter pancakes."

"Dad... Mom can cook but you know we can't cook."

"Sorry,kids. I was dreaming I was at a mansion where they brought me everything I wanted and next I had wanted peanut butter pancakes."

 

"Kids, let's go have breakfast." said Mom.

"Can I have peanut butter pancakes?" Dad said right away.

And then Jack said, "And I'll have peanut butter pancakes too." And then Lucy said, "I'll have peanut butter pancakes too!" "Wait, kids and Dad," said Mom. "I think I'll have peanut butter pancakes too." "What are we waiting for?" said Lucy."Let's go downstairs and have our pancakes."

After they ate their peanut butter pancakes, Lucy said, "Jack, race you to the door!" "Hold on, young lady. First we have to get ready for the day and then you can say 'Jack, race you to the door.'"

"Okay," said Lucy. "Let's go take a bath." Lucy and Jack took their bath and got dressed. Lucy said, "Let's go outside and play." "And have a snowball fight," said Jack. "Well, let's get ready and go outside." said Lucy.

When they got in their clothes and went outside, Lucy said, "Let's have 14 snowballs. I'll have 3. How many will you have, Jack?" 

"Hmm," said Jack,"how many will I have? Well, how about I have 11?" "Yeah, you should have 11," said Lucy. "Let's go have our snowball fight."

In the end Lucy won because she didn’t use a single snowball until Jack ran all out.

Some day someone will have to tell her that her teacher will expect a two line problem. For now, I just have to smile and say -- this is sooo Snowdrop!

With such radiant sunshine outside, I push for the outdoors.  Not terribly long: Sparrow's patience with snow is still pretty thin. (Snowdrop, on the other hand,  could play out there for a long long time.)

Gaga what's Snowdrop doing? Snow angels? I think she's just enjoying being in the snow!

 

 

 (Sparrow with snowman)

(Snowdrop is not a snowman builder. She prefers her magic meadowland pretend play.)

 

 

In the late afternoon, I take the kids back to their house and I speed up the preparations for a farmhouse celebration. The cake needs to be frosted...

Too, I fix the girl's favorite dinner (crunchy chicken, pasta and corn), blow up some balloons and bring down the presents. Snowdrop had meekly asked -- gaga, will you be giving me a present? Yes, little one. I will. 

[And, just before the young family comes back to the farmette, Ed and I have time for a quick run on a ski trail! That's how close we are to the county park!]

 

(frozen lake, ice fisher person...)

Just after sunset, the young family comes and the birthday celebrations continue!

First on the agenda: connect with the Chicago young family.

The balloons, the gifts -- it's all rather spirited! Snowdrop takes a moment to recharge.

(dinner)

(cake)

And then, one last photo. I will see the kids one more time, tomorrow, but there wont be anyone to take this pic: of the four of us on the farmhouse white couch, where we have had so many rambunctious play moments, interspersed with the occasional viewing of their beloved Olivia the Pig film clips.

Time for them to head home.

The farmhouse is warm, the water is warm, the stars are out, the heart feels very full.

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.