Sunday

Each year, right about this time, I make food lists for the coming holidays. Anything that you can do in advance is a great help. And so I begin.

My starting point is always a review of what I did last year and what I can carry over into this year's holidays. It's tricky because our holidays are never the same. Sometimes we have the Madison young family for Thanksgiving Day and that's it. Sometimes (rarely), it's just Ed and me. Sometimes (also rarely) everyone is here. And of course, last year was crazy lonely for everyone, since no one ate with anybody else. We were all in our separate bubbles, zooming, but otherwise keeping our distance.

Compared then to 2020, anything is an improvement. And indeed, this year is several steps in a terrific direction. Still a little funky and goofy, but pretty good, considering.

The trick this year is that the holiday for me starts early and lasts for several days. So meals have to be carefully planned. Grocery lists have to take into account limited fridge space. My energy level has to be split perfectly between all days, since one is no more no less important than the next. And it's all saddled into the regular rhythm of a week. I mean, it's not as if for Thanksgiving week there are meals to do and nothing else. Kids still come to the farmhouse, Ed still messes up the couch cover, the cats still demand their time of face and belly rubs. 

I'm thinking of all this on the cold days of a nippy and wet, but still mightily golden mid-November. 

(Last year at this time, not a leaf was left hanging on the maples or the crab apples. This year? Look above, look below.)

Sunday is the one day of the week when I have much to do inside and rarely need to be anywhere beyond the farmette boundaries. The kitchen is my focal point. From breakfast onward.

 

 

 

Evening dinner for the family is my anchor. 

I rarely take many photos when the young guys come over. There's a lot of activity everywhere! But today, there were these clusters of kids in various places that just begged for a camera shot.

(And then Sparrow joins in...)

(And mommy takes the babe...)

(And of course there is dinner...)

(And then there is this cluster again, this time on the couch...)

Seems to me winter snuggling urges are starting to take hold. I have no problem with that!

With love.

the books we read

There was this period of time in my daughters' lives when they were already readers, nonetheless we still had evening hours where I read out loud to them. They are three and a half years apart, but I never dumbed-down the books to meet the needs of the younger girl. I could always find something that would be good for the three of us. 

I loved those reading hours! Kids' books can be very very good -- from the classics (my adored Anne of Green Gables), to more contemporary stuff. The goal was to keep the themes moving through different times and places. To shed some light on economic disparity and cultural traditions that were foreign to us. But what was often difficult was to find books where the protagonists were of mixed race or of a different race. It's not that there were none, but my local bookstore (Borders) didn't carry many. Oftentimes there would be the token Black or Asian girl in the mix, but they seldom were the central characters to the story.

Too, what I really missed were books with diverse characters, but that weren't necessarily accounts of extraordinarily accomplished people. I have always loved stories where the characters are ordinary, complicated people like you and me. Only with various perspectives born of different life experiences. 

Two things I can say right now: such books are easier to find these days (thank you, internet), and also my grandkids are at the age where reading with them is an act of total pleasure. The books are good! I get as much involved in the dramatic twists and turns of the daily lives of these people as they do. I shed happy tears when a problem resolves itself in a good way! 

I say this because my Saturday had some of those reading hours smack in the middle. It's wet and cold outside and we pretty much ignore the Great Outdoors. 

I eat a bowl of fruit alone (Ed sleeps in)...

... and then I go off to do my Saturday run to the bakery to pick up croissants and baguettes. Some for the farmhouse, some for the young family. (And I am surprised to see a looooong line at the bakery! This is a great sign, in my view. We are all becoming delicious bread addicts!)

I hang out with my daughter, with Snowdrop, and Sandpiper (while Sparrow is at his multi-sport activity with his dad).

(She is teaching him relaxation techniques...)

And then Snowdrop comes home with me and we finish the several remaining chapters of Ways to Make Sunshine, by Renee Watson. It's like Ramona (down to the Portland setting), only modern and the family is Black. Does it matter? Yeah, I think it does. We aren't at a stage where we can ignore race in our recounting of daily life. I think Watson's books are fantastically clever in their simple recounts of daily life. Such welcome additions to our collection of favorites!

 

(Just one photo! Okay...)

 

 

Evening. That beautiful November quiet sets in. Candle flickers. I start in on the planning of Thanksgiving week meals.

creating something

Putting together ideas gathered from the shreds of your day. Building something out of bits and pieces of nothing. Searching for words to form a clever or colorful sentence. Arranging bits of plastic and toilet paper and painted wood to create a story. Having some of this in your day is what makes it sing! Snowdrop would agree. Yesterday, after we had had our fill of reading, she went off to the playroom and brought together these important elements of a story that was churning inside her. She worked tirelessly in arranging everything on the table just so, in the same way that I might struggle with a sentence in one of my book projects, or reach for threads of the day that might create a post for Ocean. (Today she returned to it.)

People say you need nothing tangible to spark an imaginative thought. Creativity will allow you to use anything within reach or nothing at all to build something satisfying. Maybe. But we have our muses and props and candles and plastic Lego pieces and glass birds and toilet paper rolls that fuel our creative juices. So, what did you use today to help you along? Me, I stuck with the candle (Holiday Pine, by Kobo) and some rose hips in a vase. Same stuff that adorned the kitchen table at breakfast.

I like small props. A cup of tea, a tiny Christmas tree in December. Beautifully crafted chocolates. Things that relax the brain and inspire me to look at life in a new way. 

Lately, I haven't been writing much (except for Ocean posts), but today, as we went through typical November stuff -- a wet mix of rain and snow -- I had that urge to put the candle on my writing table and dig out my Great Writing Project no. 2.

November is the perfect month for writing. I did not get to it, but it doesn't matter. The strong urge is there -- that's a step in the right direction. A gift from a beautifully wet November day.

 

 

(Do you remember a school day from your past when the first snow came down outside? A child would notice the wet flakes and spread the word. Kids would be on their feet, the teacher would seek to restore order, but there would be a smile tugging at the corners of her or his mouth. The first snowflakes are always magical!)

Today's moment of snow-showers:

In the afternoon, I again bring the little girl here after school. By then, any wet flake of lingering snow has melted. But the memory is there. That and the promise of more to come in the weeks ahead.

For some known only to her reason, Snowdrop goes immediately to the art room and begins to draw. She has an idea (it has to do with love) and a need to run with it.

I think kids have a constant stream of sparks pushing them to create. Me, I'm still feeling good about my one moment of inspiration from this morning! Hmm... maybe I need to bring together a few more small props...

Thursday

Three memorable chunks to this cold and wet day. 

First of all, my friend, the one who lives in New Mexico, is in town. Usually we like to meet up in coffee shops, but I'm not that bold during the pandemic and so instead, we spend our morning at the farmhouse kitchen table. Like this:

I think it's been a while since we had a good, long visit. There was a lot of ground to cover!

 

Second chunk? Oh, picking up Snowdrop, not only at school...

... but then, even more importantly, at another school, where she went with her dad to get her Covid vaccination. I sat in the car and waited, because she wanted to come to the farmhouse afterwards. I watched many, many kids walk in with their parents. Some took pictures by the sign (as I did too, when she came out!)...

All were practically bouncing to go in! Brisk steps, on this momentous day when they finally inch closer to safety -- for themselves, for their families, for their schools and communities. Snowdrop was exuberant and proud! 

 

 

 

We'll be waiting now for the younger guys to get their turn...

 

(At the farmette, it's cold. I hope Snowdrop wants to go straight in! Yes she does. With just a quick detour.)

 

 

Third chunk? Oh, the beautiful evening at home, with Ed. I've started lighting a candle that has a very faint pine forest aroma. It's not at all perfumy. Very subtle: you say to yourself -- is there a candle, or is it a window cracked open unto a forest?  

Dinner dishes put away, one more chocolate divided between the two of us. I pour a glass of wine to celebrate the true coming of November. A little cold, a little dark. The way it should be. To the progression of seasons!

With love...

the price we pay

As we basked in the sunshine on toasty autumnal days, week after week, all the way into November, I had this nagging thought that this is not right. It's a sugar high: artificial and definitely not good for us. Wisconsin needs the cold in the same way that your perishables need to be placed in the refrigerator. Last night I had proof of this.

I had known that something was wrong with my right arm, but you know, when you're 68, you tend to ignore most irritants unless they persist and intensify. Still, as I went upstairs to bed, I gave it a good look as I took off my shirt. Sure enough, I had a fully embedded tick. And man oh man, was it embedded. Ed and I both tried to work it out with tweezers. We got most of it. Who knows how long it had been there. The inner part of the upper arm is not exactly a spot I'd look at in the course of the day. 

What's remarkable is that I'd been fully clothed during the most vulnerable parts of the week, when we were hiking. Your best defense against ticks is to wear long pants, long sleeves, etc. And in November? Who ever heard of ticks in November? Oh, but wait: this November didn't have the killer frosts and cold temperatures. Instead, it had sunshine and temps straight out of late summer. And so the ticks live on.

We considered if it was in fact a Lyme bearing tick and decided that evidence (red halo, etc) was suggestive. Since time is of essence in terms of successful intervention, I spent the morning at my clinic showing off my remarkable puffed out arm (the conclusion? early stage Lyme disease), and picking up meds at my local pharmacy.

It's rather a mundane story, but it does add strength to that old saying -- be careful what you wish for. As I said before, we can't be too in love with weirdly warm weather. It doesn't belong here in November. Let's get down to the bracing cold stuff that is more in line with what we need to keep us and the flora and fauna healthy.

In other news -- the colors are still so very pretty! I know you're tired of seeing the farmhouse in my posts, but each morning, I look out on it, framed as it is in the gold of the front maples, and I think -- so pretty!

Breakfast. Waiting for Ed.

What else to add -- how about this tiny tidbit: I found a seasonal hand soap that I like.  Can you guess why? (Yes, it's named after my oldest granddaughter -- Snowdrop!)

And so my thoughts fall back to the November of cold temps, of forecasts that mention snow showers (remember those??), of the gentle hum of a furnace, and of long winter nights with many great books loaded onto my Kindle.

Tuesday

The trouble with November is not that it is chock-full of dreary and dark days, but that it is heading in the wrong direction. In January, where the days are equally short-lived, we're hoping for snow and eyeing perennial catalogues for spring planting. We're in an upswing! In November, each day grows shorter and there's rarely snow on the ground. Which perhaps is a good thing because snow is fun for about three months, and after that you are ready to move on! If it starts in November, you're done with it before it is done with you.

Nonetheless, this year, the slide toward cold, dark and dreary hasn't yet started. It will, in a day or two, but we've been given a whole week of lovely days to make up for what's to come. I mean, I've always said that November is the toughest month to get through in Wisconsin. This year it has yet to turn mean and nasty.

Still, Ed and I don't do much outside. I have a stack of catch up chores and Ed has a morning long Zoom meeting. Indeed, I don't even want to wait for him for breakfast. I bake up some muffins and eat alone.

In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop at school. 

 

 

 

Once again, I try to keep her outside as long as I can. I'm fighting an uphill battle with a girl who has already had plenty of time on the school playground. Still, the day is so pretty... The farmette is so pretty...

It's dark by the time I drive her home to her brothers.

 

 

 

Amazing how quickly a day goes by when daylight hours are short-lived. But, I come from northern Europe, where today the sun rose at 6:48 and set at 3:51. That's a whole lot worse than Madison's 6:44 and 4:39. And I'm not even going to bother giving you the times for Iceland, or Norway! It's easy to be bothered by November's peculiarities until you remind yourself that however irksome those are in your neck of the woods, someone else has it a whole lot worse, and complains about it a whole lot less.

 

(At home again, I have a chance to tell Primrose how very sorry I am that she was feeling under the weather this past weekend...)

 

Happy kids! They never care which month we're in and how short the days are. It's past sunset? Let's look at the moon shape and find the first star! Yep, they know where they can find the essential elements of a good day. A pile of golden leaves, a crescent moon, and maybe mac and cheese for dinner... That's all it takes.

up and down and all around

Even with our seasonal lazies, and coming off of a busy weekend, Ed and I could not, would not waste this remarkable day of sunshine and warmth. 66F (19C) is a November meteorological anomaly to be sure. Can't hope to see another day of its kind until spring.  Knowing it was coming, Ed and I actually discussed the possibilities all weekend long: where to go, given our dislike of long drives,  on a most beautiful November day?

Part of the problem is that November brings with it the hunting season. You're not likely to be shot, but you do have to dress in Halloween orange and, too, you're likely to come across people with dead animals and/or rifles. It just takes the thrill out of a forest walk. 

So I set (more like cajoled and begged) Ed to search out a no-hunting-nearby-and-not-too-well-known-to-us hiking destination. I thought it would be an empty set, but lo! He found one! 

It's fairly new -- acquired by Dane County Park System only in 2016. No wonder we'd never heard of it. It's called the Morton Forest and it's located in the Driftless Area -- to the south and west, so with lots of hills and vales. 

This was our day then: a quick morning walk for me...

Breakfast, with Ed still finishing up his research...

And soon after, a 38 minute drive to the Forest.

Even in this late season, where most of the trees are in their final stage of leaf shedding, it is stunningly beautiful. There are three peaks, and each one has a nifty bench for you to plop down on so that you can take in your setting. We'd read that the climb is stiff -- not one for seniors or young children. Meh. It was not a big deal.

Want to walk with us? Three summits and lovely forested paths to connect them all. There are prairie fields as well, but these, of course, don't show off as well now. Still, the entirety gets high marks from us!

On the final peak, as we sat back and looked out on the view rolling lazily before us, with the sun coming at us to the left, and the utter silence surrounding us from all sides, I murmured that the few minutes sitting absolutely still up there was truly bliss. Total relaxation. No spa treatment could feel this good!

We walked all the trails -- every loop, every up and down. It wasn't that long -- maybe a couple of hours. A wonderful new place to consider when you just want to be in the quiet of a forest, alone, at peace with the world.

It is true that you can shatter that peace by picking up the newspaper upon your return. For who knows what reason I read the very well written article in the Wash Po on human cruelty to animals. Specifically -- to dogs. Heartbreaking. I almost told Ed that we should adopt one of those sad neglected animals. Almost but not quite. I thought about the cats. There are many forms of animal torture in this world, one of them would be to sic our six wild cats on an unsuspecting hapless pooch. Sense prevailed. A donation to the Humane Society or PETA for their work on rescue interventions is a much better idea.

Evening. Thinking now of animals, and forests and of all the good people in this world (there are many)...

With love.